So Close to Magic
by Sonny13
Summary: Winona was new to the whole 'magic' thing, but she was pretty sure that even by Hogwarts' standards, drawing the future was freaky. She's content just to let her secret gather dust in a dark corner of her mind, but as she soon learns, the future waits for nobody, and when the young boy from her visions finally arrives at Hogwarts, the real work begins. Fred/OC
1. You would be the first to stray

**A/N: Hello readers! I've been promising it for so long, and now it's finally here: welcome to my Fred/OC fic!**

**I've been working so hard on this piece, and I've had a blast. It will be spanning all Hogwarts years and beyond. **

**It's going to be a long story, and an _incredibly_ slow burn – as has become somewhat my specialty – so don't expect things to heat up for awhile yet. Hearing your feedback, I know a lot of you wanted this to be more of an M-rated story, and I'm glad (because I feel like I write that sort of content a lot better than the more tame stuff) but since this story begins when everyone is eleven, the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll (sort of) won't come into it for awhile.**

**Quick disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I earn any money whatsoever for this story. I'm just a fan having some fun. **

**Anyways, I hope you like this story as much as I do, I can't wait to hear from you all! Thanks for reading – enjoy!**

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Glancing down at her golden, elaborately printed ticket, Winona's face scrunched as she read the words _'Platform Nine and Three-Quarters'._

"You just run straight at the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten," the graceful witch – Professor McGonagall – had told her the day they'd gone into Diagon Alley and bought all of her necessary supplies. "It'll take you straight to the train."

Winona was skeptical about the instructions, but the Professor didn't seem the type to be interested in pranking her eleven year old girls.

She followed the other people her age with trolleys, guessing that they were all probably heading for the same place. Turns out McGonagall wasn't full of it after all, people actually _were_ running bang at the wall, disappearing through it and not seeming to come back out the other side.

It was like a doorway to nowhere.

Thinking that McGonagall _probably_ wouldn't wish her dead, Winona knew she had no choice but to follow the instructions she'd been given. Inhaling deeply, she straightened her shoulders, tilted up her chin and ran directly at the wall.

Once she was on the other side she felt somewhat relieved, but also a whole lot more lost. She took a moment to marvel at the shiny beast that was the Hogwarts Express where it sat beautifully on the tracks. It gleamed crimson and midnight black in the sunlight streaming in through the glass ceiling.

Lots of the compartments were still empty, so she slipped into the first one she stumbled across, stepping inside just as a kind man lifted her trunk above her head. She thanked him quietly, and as soon as he was gone she shut the door, letting herself relax into one of the seats.

With the image of the stunning Hogwarts Express still fresh in her mind, Winona pulled out her sketchbook and a fresh pencil, immediately kicking her feet up onto the seat beside her and getting to work.

To Winona, sketching was as easy and as necessary as breathing. She found true peace in the way her pencil glided over the paper, creating a new whole new world out of graphite and colour. She would sketch to try and block out the noise in her head, the memories that haunted her like her own personal ghosts.

She had just finished the main body of the marvellous train when there was a sudden bang and a series of shouting from outside her compartment. Winona reluctantly put down her sketchbook, moving towards the door and sliding it open, sticking her head out into the corridor.

Splayed on the floor of the train was a young girl, no older than Winona herself. She had short, dark hair and wore a lumpy blue sweater. Above her stood a large boy, clearly a couple years their senior, with beady eyes and a permanent sneer on his face.

"I didn't know," the girl was saying, voice shaking a little from fear.

"Of course you didn't, you Mudblood scum," he snarled back, taking another threatening step closer. The girl cowered back, afraid he might strike her.

Winona had seen enough. "Hey!" she barked, sliding out from the safety of her compartment and stepping in between the girl and the older troll of a boy. "What's your problem?" she demanded, voice like ice and her hands balled into angry fists.

The boy blinked in surprise, and Winona got the feeling he wasn't used to being challenged. "Who're you?" he spat, glaring at her venomously.

"Your worst nightmare if you don't back off," she retorted without much of a thought. The girl on the floor hurriedly scrambled to her feet, taking two large steps back so she was stood beside Winona, still shaking just a little, nervously watching the scene play out before her.

The boy laughed darkly at Winona's threat, like she were nothing but an amusing little thing, a minor inconvenience in his day. The sound of it set her teeth on edge. "What're you going to do, firstie?" he sneered. "You gonna tell on me?"

Winona cocked her head. "Would that teach you a lesson?" she asked easily.

The unnamed boy looked taken aback by her confident words, but he recovered quickly. "You threatening me?" he demanded.

"If I were threatening you, you'd know," she assured him. She'd been standing up to bullies like him for as long as she could remember. He was nothing compared to the demons in her past. Dealing with him was inconsequential, but she knew it would also be terribly satisfying.

She was hardly surprised when the boy lunged forwards, hands held out in preparation to shove her backwards. His movements were clumsy and overconfident. Winona sidestepped the attack with ease and once he was in position she sent her small fist flying into his nose.

He tilted sideways in surprise, hands immediately flying to his face. Red began to pour from his nose and he let out a colourful array of language, shock flaming in his teary eyes. Winona shook out her aching fist, hoping she hadn't broken any of her fingers (again).

"Wright!" cried a voice from behind him, and Winona leaned around the bleeding boy to see a pair of boys gaping at her in horrified shock. "You all right, mate?" asked the taller one incredulously. Confusion was clear on their faces, each wondering how the hell an eleven year old girl had gotten the drop on their large, more physically intimidating friend.

"You're going to pay for that, Mudblood," spat the bleeding boy around a mouthful of blood.

"Promises, promises," Winona replied in her most bored tone of voice.

"Come on, Wright," said the boy behind him. "We'll deal with her later."

Wright looked like he desperately wanted to fight back there and then, but he resisted, spitting a final insult in Winona's direction before turning and fleeing, much to her pleasure.

She turned back around to see the girl the guy had been bullying. She was staring at Winona with something like hero-worship in her eyes. Winona grimaced at the sight of it. Beyond her there was a horde of other students piled into the thin corridor, all staring unabashedly at the scene before them. Winona took note of the respect in their eyes. Seemed she already had a reputation to her name – was that a good thing? She doubted it.

"I can't believe you just did that!" gushed the girl.

"He was a dick," Winona shrugged. "It was the least I could do."

"Are you a first year too?" she asked hopefully.

Winona nodded. "I'm Winona," she said, lifting her hand in an awkward wave. "Andrews," she added, because it seemed like the thing to do.

"Alicia Spinnet," the girl told her, giving a wide smile in return.

By now most of the crowd had moved away, losing interest in the event. Two people remained, however, and they were brave enough to approach. Identical twins with flaming orange hair came to a stop beside them, wide grins on their faces.

"That was the greatest thing we've ever seen," said one of them, practically bouncing on his toes, as if high on adrenaline from merely watching the confrontation.

"We've never seen anyone break someone's nose before," the other one chirped. "At least, not on purpose."

"Glad to be of service," Winona replied dryly.

"I'm Fred," said the one to the left, still bursting with excitement.

"And I'm George," said the other one cheerfully. Their massive grins were almost too bright to look at directly – it was like staring into the face of the sun.

"And you're our new best friend!"

Winona genuinely had no idea how she was meant to respond to that. She stared at them a moment, struggling to formulate a reply. She'd never really had friends before – people she was kind of friendly with, sure, but _friends_? It wasn't something she had any experience in.

People didn't tend to like her. They thought she was _different_ or_ weird._ She supposed, now that she knew she was a witch, their accusations made sense. She was different and weird – but so were these people, too.

If she wanted to get through the next seven years intact, she needed allies. Of that much she was certain.

"Do you have seats yet?" she asked them carefully. They lit up again, and she wondered how they could do that so many times in the space of one minute.

"We were just looking for somewhere!" said the one called George. Already they were shouldering their way into her compartment, bouncing down onto one of the seats with childlike enthusiasm.

"Winona, was it?" asked Fred brightly as she slipped in after them, retaking her spot at the window. "And Alicia?"

Alicia slunk in after them, eyes happy although just a little unsure. Winona nodded to the space beside her and Alicia smiled in relief as she sat down. Winona gathered up her sketchbook and a handful of stray pencils, quickly shoving them into the bag at her feet before sitting back up.

"Can't believe that ugly brute called you that," George was saying with a twist of his mouth.

"You mean Mudblood?" asked Winona. Fred and George both grimaced at the word, but when she glanced over at Alicia she was glad to find she looked just as confused as she felt. "Dunno what it means," she confessed.

"It means you have dirty blood," Fred explained, seeming just as horrified by it as his brother had been. "It's what Pure-blood's call Muggle-borns when they want to feel superior," he added with a snort of disgust.

"Oh," said Alicia sadly, looking down at her hands.

Winona knew from McGonagall that her parents hadn't been Muggles – in fact, they'd attended Hogwarts like any other witches and wizards in Britain. But she supposed the name could still be applied to her, considering she hadn't been raised by witches at all, but rather a series of Muggles who Winona would happily say all had dirty blood to one degree or another.

She didn't want to go into her tragic backstory, however. Let them think what they wanted about her lineage – it really didn't bother her one way or the other.

"Ignore that guy, Alicia," said Winona quickly, the words full of sincerity. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Alicia grinned and Winona smiled back, a little wooden but genuine all the same. "I'm not usually so easy to scare," Alicia told them with a shy smile. "But I didn't even know magic existed until a few weeks ago, and everything's so strange and new."

"We'll get him back for it," George swore with unyielding certainty.

Alicia looked surprised. "Winona already broke his nose," she reminded them. "Don't you think that's punishment enough?"

The twins exchanged a look. "Nah," said Fred brightly, a mischievous glint to his eyes. "Besides, our brother Bill gave us a stack of Dungbombs to use this year – and I think we found the perfect first target," he told them eagerly.

Winona didn't know exactly what Dungbombs were, but she could certainly hazard a guess. Her lips curved up in satisfaction at the thought of that Wright guy getting one in the face for his trouble.

"So, what House are you guys hoping to be in?" Fred asked them both eagerly.

"Uh, I don't really know anything about the Houses," Alicia admitted, bringing her legs up and curling them underneath her meekly.

Winona nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me neither," she said with a shrug. "Grew up around Muggles," she added by way of explanation.

Neither twin so much as blinked at the information, and Winona found herself warming to them even more. "Our whole family's been in Gryffindor," George told them eagerly. "So, obviously, we will be too."

"Obviously," she nodded with a pretend conviction. She really shouldn't be rude. Wasn't that on the no-no list of friendship? Never be rude? It sounded about right.

"What are the Houses, anyway?" Alicia asked, brimming with curiosity.

And so Fred and George launched into an explanation of the four Hogwarts Houses. Of them all, Gryffindor sounded like the best one for Winona, and not just because it was the one her new kind-of-friends wanted to be in.

She could be brave sometimes. Maybe not chivalrous, and certainly not gallant, but she'd stood up to plenty of bullies in her time. Besides, the twins made it sound like the best one, so perhaps she was just a little biased.

"You guys must know heaps about magic," said Alicia during a lull in conversation. "You're probably going to do really well in all your classes."

She sounded sad, like she were resigned to failing at school already, before they'd even walked through the front doors.

"Nah," said Fred, lounging back in his seat, shoes kicked up against the window. It didn't look particularly comfortable, but what did she know? "We're pretty much just here for a laugh."

Alicia stared, blindsided by the comment. "You mean, you don't plan on doing well in your classes?" she asked carefully, as if she'd never heard anything more barmy.

"We just wanna learn how to use magic," said George enthusiastically. "We don't care about doing well in classes. We're not _Percy_," he said with an edge of disdain.

The girls exchanged a look of bewilderment. "Who's Percy?" Winona asked, understandably confused.

"Our brother," said Fred, grimacing as he did. "The guy's ambition in life is to be made a Head Boy by the time he reaches seventh year. It's disgusting. Doesn't help that our older brother Bill was Head Boy in his day, too."

"How many brothers do you have?" asked Alicia curiously.

"Five, not including George," said Fred with a halfhearted glance over at his twin. "We've got a sister, too, but she's only eight."

"Wow," said Alicia quietly. "I can't imagine having _six_ siblings."

"Why, how many do you have?"

Alicia shrugged. "Just one – a little brother," she told them. "And he's only just turned two." She turned to Winona with a smile, slowly coming out of her shell the longer they talked. "What about you, Winona?" she asked lightly.

"Only child," Winona told them shortly. They kept staring expectantly, and she got the feeling they were waiting for more. Feeling awkward, she reluctantly pressed on. "My parents died when I was three," she said stiltedly.

Alicia's expression twisted in sympathy, but Fred and George just leaned closer, interest gleaming in their identical eyes. "That's what you mean, you were 'raised by Muggles'?" asked Fred. "How does that work? Was it like an uncle or something?"

Winona shook her head. "Nah, foster care," she said casually.

The twins just stared back at her dumbly. "What's foster care?" asked George in confusion.

Surprised that they didn't know, Winona turned to Alicia, who winced at the question. She was used to that sort of reaction. When people found out you grew up in foster care, they usually began to treat the subject like it were a chandelier hanging over her head. One wrong word and it might shatter into a million tiny little pieces, taking her down with it.

"It basically means I was raised by strangers, moving from home to home when I was a kid. Kind of like a pet they couldn't find a permanent home for," she explained offhandedly. The topic had long ago stopped causing her pain.

The twins looked aghast at the information. "You mean you didn't have a family?" asked Fred, horrified.

"Nope," she shrugged again. "Just me."

They didn't seem to know what to say; not because they were trying to be delicate – she knew by now that they weren't the type – but because they were so genuinely appalled that anyone would have to grow up that way. She hoped they didn't pity her. That was the last thing she wanted.

"S'alright," she assured them. "It is what it is."

"Well, being raised by Muggles, you two probably know next to nothing about Quidditch!" said Fred loudly, leaning forward and launching into yet another rambling explanation all about the Wizarding sport known as Quidditch. The girls listened eagerly, and in the back of her mind Winona was wondering if it had actually been this easy to make friends all along, or whether Fred and George were just a special case.

Hours passed with light conversation, mostly the twins telling Winona and Alicia all about the Wizarding world, catching them up on everything they didn't know. They appreciated it; it was nice to go into this knowing as much as they could; going to a new school was scary enough without adding a whole new world into the mix.

Finally they arrived at the station in a town called Hogsmeade, and all the first years gathered in a group behind a massively built man with a thick, wiry beard that made Winona's fingers itch to try to recreate it on paper.

They followed him down to a sprawling lake, the surface of the water still and glossy, like a mirror reflecting the sky back to them. When they got in their boats it was like sailing through the stars themselves.

The castle before her was the single most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her life. It stood tall in the night, firelight drifting out from the hundreds of windows, making it glow warmly against the starry night sky. Winona was humbled into silence from her place in her boat with Alicia and the twins. Even the rambunctious Fred and George were quiet, making no jokes as their small vessel drifted magically across the quiet water of the great lake.

"You know, Bill told us once that there's a giant squid at the bottom of the lake," whispered one of the twins from behind her. Winona smiled ruefully, knowing the humbled silence had been too good to last. "Fancy a swim?" he pressed impishly, and a gut feeling told her Fred was the twin speaking.

"You even _think_ about pushing me in and I swear, I'll break both your arms," Winona warned him in the same muted whisper. She heard him laugh quietly, but her attention had already moved. She stared up at the glittering, towering castle before her, trying to commit every inch of it to memory, so when she was up in bed and couldn't sleep, she would be able to recreate it on paper to keep forever.

Climbing up the endless stairs to reach the room called the Great Hall, Winona came to a stop with her fellow first years outside of a pair of huge double doors carved from reddish wood. She absentmindedly fingered the wand that was tucked into one of the deep pockets of her new school robes, feeling the wood against her skin, somehow warm and cool in the same instant.

And then McGonagall was there to greet there, giving a speech about rules and Houses and points and family, but Winona barely listened. It was just all so intense, all of it so much. She didn't know how to react, not even within the safety and privacy of her own mind.

The doors opened, swinging out to invite them in, and the first years were assaulted by a wall of noise. Made up of mostly chatter and laughter, Winona tried not to meet anyone's eye as they were marched up the middle of the four lengthy tables, guided up to a larger table at the end where all the teachers were sat.

Winona's eyes slid over them all, taking in the stern looking woman wearing the witch's hat; the tiny little man with glasses and a balding patch; the greasy looking man with inky hair and a hooked nose like the beak of a bird; and finally the man in the centre of them all.

Sitting tall and regal in the most elaborate of all the chairs, the man was wearing a set of light purple robes with tiny little stars stitched on in real constellations. He had a huge, long beard that disappeared down beneath the tabletop, and a pair of half-moon spectacles bordered a pair of glittering blue eyes – the kind of eyes that made you think the owner knew something you didn't.

Winona wasn't sure whether she trusted him immediately, or didn't trust him at all. It was either one or the other, but she couldn't decide which it was.

Those glittering eyes flickered away from McGonagall to meet hers, almost like he knew she'd been staring. Their eyes locked, and she wondered whether she were imagining the knowledge that glinted in his gaze. Like he knew exactly who she was. Like he already knew everything about her.

"Andrews, Winona," a loud, Scottish voice called.

For one breadth of a second she thought it was the bearded man calling her name, then someone jabbed her sharply in the side and she realised it had been McGonagall and that now the entire student body was waiting for her to do something.

The person poked her again, and Winona quickly walked up to the stool stood in front of the bearded man's spot at the table. His eyes never left her, and she felt uncomfortable turning her head away, as if he were somehow a threat to her safety.

Reluctant, she turned her back and sat obediently on the stool. Without preamble McGonagall dropped a wide-brimmed, heavy witch's hat down onto her head, and she tried not to crumple at the unexpected weight.

"_Hmmm…_" purred a voice in her head. Winona flinched but otherwise didn't react. "_So much creativity. So much force of will. Where to put you…?_"

She wanted to ask it to put her in Gryffindor, but she was sure it didn't work like that.

"_Gryffindor, you say_?" that voice purred again, sounding intrigued. She realised the hat was reading her thoughts and quickly did her best to think of something innocent and unassuming. The hat chuckled in her head, unmistakably amused. "_You would do well in Ravenclaw. They value knowledge and creativity above all else, you know_?"

But Winona didn't value those things, not really. Yes, she was a creative person – she spent more time sketching and painting than she did anything else – but that wasn't what she held in high esteem.

"_Hm, then what _do_ you hold in high esteem_?"

It took her a minute to think, but in the end she needn't say anything aloud.

"_Loyalty above all else to those you love, and the_ c_ourage to stand up for what you believe in…_" the hat murmured, interest soaking its tone. "_Well, are you sure? You would do great things in Ravenclaw. It's where every other Seer has ever been placed. You would be the first to stray._"

Winona's brow pulled into a frown. Seer?

"_Well, I can see your mind is made up. It'll have to be…_Gryffindor!" the hat shouted aloud, and the table on the far left exploded in cheers and hoots, launching to their feet and clapping for her wildly. A little stunned by the force of her welcome, Winona blinked as McGonagall took the heavy, sentient hat off her head and gave her the tiniest hint of a smile before shooing her off to her new school-family.

Being the first of the first years to be sorted, there was nobody to sit beside except older students. A kid, at least a few years older than her, waved her over to sit beside him. He was tall and ginger, with kind eyes and freckles covering his face. He reminded her of the twins.

He clapped her firmly on the back as she took a seat on his right. "Welcome to Gryffindor, kid," he told her warmly.

"Are you Charlie?" she asked by way of greeting, ignoring the rest of the sorting happening at the front of the room.

The ginger boy looked surprised, and a girl with inky black hair and a permanent smirk on her face leaned around him. "I see your reputation proceeds you, Charlie," she said impishly.

Charlie chuckled, but she could tell he was a little embarrassed by the comment. "I met your brothers on the train," Winona explained, taking pity. "They told us about their family."

"And you knew it was me?" Charlie wondered.

"The red hair is hard to mistake."

Charlie laughed, reaching out a hand. "Charlie Weasley," he introduced himself needlessly.

"Winona Andrews," she replied, gingerly shaking his hand before quickly pulling away.

"Andrews, eh?" asked the girl from before. "I don't know the name. You a Muggle-born?"

"Quinn," hissed Charlie.

"What?" the girl – now Quinn – said defensively. "She doesn't care. It's not an offensive question. Right, Winona?"

"I don't care," Winona confirmed with a shrug. "My parents were magical, but they were both Muggle-borns, as far as I know."

"How could you _not_ know?" Quinn scoffed. She didn't seem rude, just blunt, like she spoke before she thought.

"They died when I was three," Winona told her, wondering in the back of her head just how many times she was going to have to share that fact before it inevitably became common knowledge.

Quinn grimaced apologetically, but Winona just waved off the apology she knew was coming, turning to look when the Gryffindor table exploded into more cheers. A young, mousy girl came to a stop in the spot opposite Winona. She glanced at the cheering Gryffindors shyly, reluctantly shaking the hands thrust her way before sinking into her seat.

"Hey, I'm Winona," Winona greeted her with as much enthusiasm as she could conjure. The twins and Alicia had been easy enough to befriend, how hard could it be to do the same thing with her?

"Hope," said the girl, almost too soft to hear over the cheers from the Hufflepuff table beside them. "Hope Eiseman."

"Do you think this year's pool is a little thinner than usual?" Quinn was asking Charlie loud enough for Winona to hear. She leaned around Charlie to see her nodding meaningfully at the smallish crowd of nervous first years.

"Well, they're all the '78 kids," replied someone from across the other side of the table, a tall guy with dark brown hair and a prominent lisp.

"What's so special about kids born in '78?" Winona asked before she could stop herself, curiosity getting the better of her.

The trio of older kids turned to look at her, but she was relieved to find two out of three didn't appear annoyed by her invasive question. Quinn and Charlie just frowned as if they didn't want to tell her the answer, but the kid with the lisp clearly thought she was stepping out of line.

"It was the last year of the war," Charlie told her, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry. She didn't imagine it was the sort of topic one causally brought up in conversation.

"Something about all that death and destruction didn't make sexy times particularly easy to come by," said the lisp boy crassly.

"Jace," hissed Quinn. "She's _eleven_."

"Well she _asked_."

"What war?" Winona asked with narrow-eyed concentration.

The three of them stopped their bickering to look at her warily. "Just a war that was going on back when we were kids," said Charlie quietly.

"Between who?" she pressed stubbornly.

"Good and evil," Quinn told her, and though the words were played off as a joke, Winona couldn't help but hear the truth ringing within them. She frowned, opening her mouth to ask more only for the rest of the Gryffindors to explode in more cheers as yet another student was sorted into their House.

"It's not good party talk," said Charlie in her ear. She turned to look, seeing him frown. "Ask some other time, yeah?"

Reluctantly Winona agreed, and she turned as a young girl dropped into the spot beside her. The girl had high cheekbones and hair braided back in a complicated plait. She looked at Winona with confidence in her eyes. "Angelina," she said, as if reading it from a script she'd found about how to introduce yourself to strangers.

Winona responded in kind, keeping her face straight. "Winona."

It was hard to tell with her dark skin, but Winona thought she blushed a little. "Nice to meet you," she said, loosing some of the awkwardness in her voice. Winona smiled, nodding back, but before she could say anything there was another great cheer from their table as yet another kid was sorted into Gryffindor.

A kid with beads threaded into his messy dreadlocks appeared, taking a seat beside a blushing Hope. He gave out generous high fives when the others asked for them, seeming to bask in the attention.

"Lee, right?" Angelina asked, apparently having caught his name.

"As you live and breathe," he replied without missing a beat, voice more squeaky than Winona had expected. She hastily introduced herself, glad when he reached out for a fist bump rather than a handshake. They'd always made her feel like a grown-up at a job interview. Not a situation she _ever_ wanted to be in.

Winona turned her full attention back to the sorting, and she felt anxiety begin to build in her gut as the group got smaller and smaller, all three of the people she'd met on the train still waiting to be sorted. Angelina and Hope and Lee all seemed nice enough, but she was really holding out hope that Alicia and the twins would be in her House too.

Spinnet, Alicia was sorted first, and this time Winona joined in on all the cheering as she scurried over to meet them. Winona forced Angelina to shuffle further down the bench, giving Alicia room to sit in between them.

Alicia didn't hesitate to throw her arms around Winona before she sat down, bringing her into a happy hug. Blindsided, Winona awkwardly squeezed her back until she finally let go and took a seat, already beginning to start a lively conversation with Angelina. It seemed that shy girl she'd broken a bloke's nose for was gone, someone bright and friendly in her place.

Finally the twins were sorted – and to nobody's surprise they were placed in Gryffindor too. Winona greeted them with a grin as they high-fived with Charlie and shouted something rude at another redheaded boy further down the table wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. They took their seats beside Lee, already engaging him in a debate about fireworks, but before they could get very far the whole Hall went deathly silent.

Turning her head, Winona realised the man in the half-moon spectacles had stood, commanding the entire room with a single, lazy lift of his hand.

"To all our new students: welcome. And to all our older students: welcome back," the aged wizard began, voice low and raspy, but holding a youthful airiness to it that took Winona by surprise.

He continued on in his 'welcome' speech, listing the out-of-bounds places around the school, and reminding the students when Quidditch tryouts were to be held. It was all basic housekeeping, none of it at all interesting, until the very end.

"And lastly, I would like to remind everyone that violence is not tolerated here at Hogwarts," he said, authority lacing the words, making them heavy and hard. "There are many ways to work through conflict, but the physical assault of others will be properly punished from _this_ _point_ _onwards_."

His piercing blue eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, zeroing in on Winona specifically. She knew in that instant that he'd most certainly heard about what she'd done on the train, and that this was her one free pass – after this, there would be no leniency. She didn't acknowledge his direct order, eyes turning down to her empty plate.

With that he commanded the feast to begin, and Winona was so distracted by the piles upon mountains of delicious-smelling food that appeared before her eyes, that she couldn't have cared less that the Headmaster of her new school seemed suspiciously familiar with all things Winona.

That was a problem for another day.

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**A/N: So I guess my main idea for this story was that I wanted to have a Fred/OC that followed the books, but I wanted to change canon and make it my own. Thus; I made Winnie a Seer. This story is going to follow the basic events of the books, but the deeper we go, the more and more that's going to change, some things big, and some small. I hope you're gonna like it!**

**I'd love to hear your feedback, and I can't wait for you all to get to know and love Winona - like you have Juliet and Hartley and all my other OC's in the past. See you soon!**


	2. I drew you dead

**A/N: This chapter and the next few kind of glaze over Winona and the others' first few years at Hogwarts, showing snapshots throughout. Not much can happen while they're only eleven (they aren't, after all, part of the Golden Trio). Still, a lot of important information comes out in here about Winona, her past and how her years are going to go, and I hope you keep with me until we get to the good stuff!**

**Also, last chapter was a little smaller, but you can expect more chapters from now on to be around this length instead. Enjoy!**

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Winona's first few weeks at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were as amazing as they were terrifying.

It was amazing, more so than she had ever could have dreamed.

The castle was simply breathtaking, and she spent every spare moment she had sketching it from every angle she could get to. But when she wasn't sketching – which, if she was honest, was a rarity – she was in her classes.

She adored Astronomy, but found Charms the most useful class of them all. She loathed Transfiguration and Potions, the former because it was almost entirely theory, and the latter because the professor was a dickhead. Professor Snape was a prick; she didn't like his class, she didn't like his attitude, and she didn't like the obvious favouritism of his own house.

He was a bully, and after her first lesson she went back to her dorm and drew him in caricature, emphasising his hooked nose and greasy hair, which made her feel loads better about having to put up with him for the next seven years.

She also loved flying, which she hadn't really expected. When Alicia found out she adored being on a broom, she'd immediately babbled on about how they could be on the team together next year. Winona didn't say anything against this, but she knew the last thing she wanted to do was join the Quidditch team. Sports had never been her thing.

Fred and George had become somewhat infamous just within the first few days of arriving at the castle. They were known as notorious pranksters. They did everything from setting dungbombs off in class to switching out the Slytherins' breakfast goblets for nose-biting teacups.

Thankfully, Winona had, as of yet, been able to avoid being the butt of one of their (admittedly _quite_ amusing) jokes.

Sharing a dorm with the other girls in her year was better than she'd thought it would be. She'd never had any girl friends her age before, and every night was sort of like a giant sleepover. The girls would gather on one of the beds and gossip, or take turns trying different Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. They would talk about the day or do their homework together. It was easy in a way she hadn't expected.

And they were all very interested in Winona's art, something she'd never really encountered before. They all had a strange obsession with getting her to draw them. They would perch themselves on the end of her bed – the one by the window, which Winona had already grown very attached to – and sit perfectly still while she sketched them, getting every detail right before handing it over. The girls pored over the drawings with happy smiles, thanking her for making them look so pretty.

She was closest to Alicia, being that they'd shared a compartment on the train ride in. Winona found her to be the easiest to get along with – kind, fun to be around, supportive. It was nice to spend time with someone and feel like they enjoyed spending time with her as well.

The boys in their year were a little harder to get to know, even despite Fred and George's proclamation that they were to be best friends. They didn't spend very much time in the Tower, and Winona sometimes wondered where it was they went all the time. But she was friendly with them so far, and they haven't given her any reason to despise them yet.

And so everything was going absolutely fine. She was loving her friends, the castle, and her classes (for the most part). Then, just when she was actually starting to believe things could be good for once in the shit-show that was her life, she blacked out.

She'd been sitting on the steps leading to the Astronomy tower, leant back against the stone wall as she absentmindedly sketched the hilly horizon she could see out the window.

The darkness hit her like a slap in the face. It had been _months_ since she'd last had an episode, she'd almost forgotten they even happened at all.

Occasionally this would happen – she tried not to think about it too much, to be honest – but every now and again Winona would lose awareness. It was always when she was drawing, and the world around her, the very ground beneath her feet, would disappear into nothing. And when she woke up there was a sketch on her page that she couldn't remember drawing.

This time everything was black and there were flashes, images she couldn't comprehend, let alone remember. It was like she were in a whirlpool, being sucked down to the bottom, skin going numb from the cold. She couldn't feel anything, couldn't see a thing, but from somewhere she recognised the sound of uncontrollable laughter.

When she finally came to, the page in her lap was filled with charcoal lines, depicting something surprising.

It was a piece of parchment, with a wand held over it like someone was spelling it to do something. Words had spilled across the page like ink drops, but none of them made any clear sense.

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs present the Marauder's Map._

She didn't know what most of those words meant individually, let alone all put together. And then below that, it read;

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_.

She had an undeniably shaky feeling in her stomach, a sort of weight that hadn't been there before. Why couldn't she remember drawing it? Where had she come up with the weird words? She knew there was something different about this particular sketch, but a group of giggling Ravenclaws scurried past, breaking her from her thoughts.

Glancing up at the sky, she realised that the sun had set and dinner had already begun.

She scrambled to get her things together, shoving her charcoal sticks and pencils into a bag that was exceptionally heavy, considering she actually had very little schoolbooks filling it.

"Where've you been?" Alicia asked her when she finally slid into her usual spot beside her at the Gryffindor table.

"Sketching," was all she had to say, and with an amused roll of her eyes Alicia turned back to her conversation with Lee and Hope – something about the first Quidditch match of the year.

She was ready to put it behind her and forget about the strange incident altogether, but then the very next day, it happened again. She was in Potions, sitting next to Hope and barely paying attention to Snape as she absent-mindedly scribbled cartoon stars on the edge of her parchment, when suddenly everything went dark, there were a few flashes of bright, colourful images that she couldn't remember, and when she came to, Snape was standing over her, a sneer on his thin lips.

"_Miss Andrews!_" he snapped, and clearly not for the first time.

Blinking back to awareness, Winona peered up at the evil teacher uncomfortably. "Sorry, Professor," she murmured, wondering how long she'd been spaced out for this time. Spaced-out; it was such an innocuous way to say she'd literally disappeared from the world, floating in another where time and space didn't quite seem to exist.

"Is doodling on your parchment more interesting than learning the potion to cure boils?" Snape asked her tightly, cold eyes just daring her to say yes. Well, far be it from her to back down from a dare.

"Yes," she said bluntly, blinking up at him with faux innocence.

Startled giggles echoed throughout the dungeon, joined by the twins' loud guffaws. Snape's expression slackened for a moment, clearly not having been expecting her to retaliate. His eyes went narrow and his lips formed an ugly scowl.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," he sneered, and a frustrated sigh echoed around the room. Winona met his stare unflinchingly. Snape didn't like the lack of reaction, and his eyes flashed dangerously at her nonchalance. "And you can serve detention tonight to remind you to _stopper the attitude._"

"Dick," she muttered almost silently as he walked away, making Alicia startle so much she nearly tumbled out of her chair. Grinning, she watched as Snape moved off obliviously, and decided, if there was one authority figure in this entire school she was going to piss off the most, it was going to be Snape.

As soon as he was gone and things had calmed down, Winona turned to look at her page only to be surprised by what she found there. A boy in Gryffindor robes was falling down the stairs in the common room, the dreadlocks clearly scribbled on the parchment making it obvious the boy was meant to be Lee.

Slightly frightened by the episode – the second in as many days – Winona shoved the drawing into her bag and turned back to her work, as though keeping it out of sight might keep it out of mind.

It was scary, losing control like that and waking up to find strange things scribbled on paper before her. But she was very much the kind of person who would rather ignore a problem and just hope it eventually went away.

The day slipped through her fingers much too quickly, and before she knew it she was standing outside Snape's classroom, a displeased scowl on her lips as she procrastinated knocking on the door, knowing it would mean having to see the slimy old git's face.

"Fancy seeing you here," a voice piped up from behind her. She whipped around to attack – her first instinct in most situations – only it wasn't a Slytherin or anyone malicious. It was just one of the twins. The redheaded boy stood idle by the far wall, an impish grin on his boyish features.

"What'd you do this time, brew a heavy-duty shampoo instead of boil treatment and then offer it to Snape to use for his chronic oily-hair condition?" she asked wryly, surprised when she heard the twin chortle from where he stood.

"No, but that's a brilliant idea!" he replied enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face. "I let a box of cockroaches loose in the Great Hall," he added seriously, a sombre look appearing on his face, as though this were the peak of wrongdoing, and despite herself she snorted, the mental image amusing.

She and the pair of identical redheads were friends, but they hadn't spent much time with one another. They were too caught up in the whirlwind of school to bother searching one another out. She'd never really had friends before – how many was someone supposed to have? She already called Alicia and Angelina her friends. Hope too, kind of, but she got the feeling the girl didn't think very much of her. They were very different kinds of people; and that was okay.

"What were you drawing in class today?" he asked her, seeming intent on making conversation.

"Just sketching," she lied with a halfhearted shrug.

She could feel his stare on the side of her face. "You seemed pretty out of it," he commented, and she grimaced.

"It happens sometimes," she told him dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest just as the Potion Master's door swung open, revealing the dungeon bat himself, draped in heavy black robes.

"You'll be cleaning cauldrons tonight," he said in lieu of a polite greeting, his voice droning and ugly, looking down his hooked nose at them with his trademark sneer. "You are not to leave until every last one is spotless," he continued once they were in the room, gesturing to a pile of cauldrons that was unfortunately large. "And you are _not_ to use magic."

With that he swept from the room, not bothering to glance back at the pair as the door slammed shut behind him.

"What a pleasant bloke," Fred muttered sarcastically, and Winona couldn't have stopped the snigger from escaping her lips if she'd tried. Fred looked surprised by the sound, and so she pressed her lips together and got on with the task before her.

The silence was deafening to Winona, and she struggled with the urge to start conversation. Silence could be nice, sometimes necessary for her work, but she wasn't working now, and she felt the desire to speak up, perhaps expand her friend group to more than just Angelina and Alicia. "This is the first time I've seen you without your brother," she finally said, then silently chastised herself for breaking so easily.

"Two boils on a witch's nose, we are," he replied cheerfully.

Not used to the strange saying, she laughed, shaking her head at the difference in Muggle and Wizarding sayings. "Right," she murmured, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed extra hard at a stubborn flaky residue on the side of a cauldron.

"You got any siblings?" he asked curiously, lazily running his brush over the cauldron edge, not bothering to complete the task properly.

Clearly he didn't remember having this conversation before – the day they'd met on the train. But they'd been so busy since then, she couldn't quite blame him. "Nope. Just me."

"Can't imagine being an only child," he said, mostly to himself.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Neither is having five brothers," he grinned, mostly joking. She was content to let them fall back into silence again, only to be surprised when he started talking again, this time telling her a funny story about the time his older brother Charlie let a gnome loose in the house, leaving their mum racing around after it all day.

Winona found herself chuckling at his short story, wondering what it was like to grow up surrounded by such things as _gnomes._

Unfortunately Snape popped his head in to check up on them, a thunderous scowl appearing on his severe features when he found them laughing as they absent-mindedly scrubbed at their cauldrons. He had a few choice words to say about that, and then ended up staying in the room with them, forcing any semblance of fun far from the dungeon.

Finally, at an extremely late and completely unfair hour, he reluctantly let them go, and they all but ran from the classroom lest the evil, dungeon-dwelling hell-beast change his mind.

As they began to move from the dungeons, heading up through the school with only the candlelight to guide them, Winona found that she felt comfortable with Fred Weasley. The silence wasn't awkward, but rather easy, and she didn't feel any pressure to maintain a polite disposition. She could just be herself. It was the same instinct she'd had ever since they met, all those weeks ago on the train.

"I'm going to try that shampoo gag," he said suddenly when they were moving up the staircases, leaping off of one just in time before it changed. "That's golden material, that is."

"You'll just get another detention, Fred," she rolled her eyes, unable to help the small smile that appeared on her lips.

"That's not a good enough reason not to do it," he argued in good spirits, smirking across the hallway at her.

She rolled her eyes again, getting the sense it was something she was going to be doing a lot in the coming years.

"So what's with all the drawing?" he asked suddenly, only for Winona's foot to slip through the trick step. She squeaked, feeling her stomach drop as she tripped. Fred grasped her arm, helping her back to her feet then letting go and continuing to lead the way up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower.

"What do you mean?" she asked once she was able to breathe normally again.

"You're always drawing," he pointed out as though she somehow hadn't noticed. "I think you might have permanent ink stains on your hands."

She glanced down at the skin of her hands, blinking in surprise. Self-consciously she shoved her stained hands into her pockets, knowing they made her look dirty. She never gave much thought to it, and as she did now, she wondered how to explain it. "Sketching to me, is pranking to you," she told him, hoping it would help him understand.

And it did. Understanding appeared on his face and he nodded, eyes bright as he considered her. "Fair enough," he said as they came to a stop at the Fat Lady's portrait. "Wiggenweld," he said to the woman in the painting, who had been dozing.

She peeked open one eye and glared, but still allowed them access through the portrait hole.

Before they could even fully pull themselves into the common room, there was a shout as someone tumbled down the steps leading to the boy's dormitory. The scene was familiar in a way Winona hadn't thought possible. She watched with wide eyes as Lee tripped, crying out as he stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, landing in a rather undignified heap on the floor.

Her eyes widened and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips. It was _exactly_ like the picture she'd drawn only that morning in Potions, right down to the candlelight flickering at the edges of her vision.

"Whoa, Lee," Fred said, moving forwards to help his friend to his feet. "You alright there, mate?"

"I'll live," the dreadlocked boy responded with a cheerful grin that greatly contrasted the fall he'd just had. He scrambled into a standing position, dusting himself off before smiling once more and moving over to the table in the corner, swiping a book from its surface. "Just came to get my book. How was detention?"

Fred looked back at Winona with a smile, but the blonde witch couldn't find it within herself to smile back, still reeling in shock from what had played out before her. "Better than I thought it would be," Fred told him once it was clear Winona wasn't going to answer.

"Well, I'll be off to bed," Lee said, heading back up the stairs, much more carefully than before. "Coming, mate?"

"Right behind you!" he responded. Lee nodded, waving at Winona before disappearing around the corner. "You're not so bad, Andrews," Fred told her suddenly as they paused at the feet of their respective stairs.

"Glad you've figured that out, Weasley," she responded with just a tiny smirk, forcing herself not to panic at her new revelation, trying to hold off a reaction until she was alone.

He barked a laugh. "I think this is the start of a fantastic friendship." She beamed in response, nodding her head at him before beginning up the stairs to her dormitory. "Hey, Winona?" She paused before turning the corner, glancing back over her shoulder at the taller first year. "How'd you know I was Fred? I never told you."

She hesitated, lost for how to answer. She decided that as odd as the truth sounded, it was better than fabricating a lie. "Sometimes I just know things," she admitted with a helpless little shrug, knowing this to be true now more than ever before.

Fred was intrigued, wondering what she could possibly mean, but before he could ask, she smiled politely, told him she'd see him tomorrow, and continued up to her dorm.

Once Winona was in her room, she sighed, glancing around at all of the beds. Angelina was snoring lightly from her bed next to the bathroom, Alicia was dozing silently and Hope's curtains were drawn shut.

Finally allowing herself a moment of panic, Winona sucked in a deep breath, all but running to her bed. She kicked off her shoes and stripped down, quickly pulling on a nightgown before climbing onto her mattress and drawing her own curtains, just in case one of the other girls woke up.

She had three sketchbooks laying before her, and she dove for the first one, knowing she was looking for a particular piece. She flickered through the book, desperately searching for the picture she hoped she'd merely imagined drawing.

Finally, she froze, stormy eyes landing on the sketch she'd made what seemed like an eternity ago, in another life; which, in a way, it had been.

A man stood, purple wizard robes draping his form, little half-moon spectacles sitting on his nose, hiding bright blue, twinkling eyes. His beard was long and wiry, nearly reaching the floor, and there was a phoenix sitting on a perch beside him, and a familiar hat with a split brim hanging to his left.

She swallowed thickly, glancing at the date and signature that she marked all of her work with. She was right. She'd drawn the piece a full year before she turned eleven.

She'd drawn Professor Dumbledore and the sorting hat over an entire _year_ before she even knew they existed.

She was as terrified as she was intrigued. What did this mean, exactly? That she could, what? Tell the future? Was this a common ability in the Wizarding world? She was torn between the desperate need to tell someone and the instinct not to let anyone know, ever, lest they lock her up to do experiments on, or something equally as nefarious.

She leant towards her instincts, and shoved her old sketchbooks down into the bottom of her trunk, sinking back into her bed and forcing herself into an uneasy, unrestful slumber.

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't her favourite class, but it may have been one of her best. There wasn't a whole lot of theory, just mainly practical work, which she tended to excel at.

She got the wand-lighting charm on her first try, and was able to shoot the brightest red sparks out of the whole class. That was all relatively passive magic, however, so when she was told they would be learning the Knockback Jinx only a few weeks before Christmas holidays, she was somewhat apprehensive.

Professor Burbank, a short and stocky fellow with a receding hairline and glasses so thick that his eyes looked three times bigger, was kind if not slightly oblivious towards his students. He was a lot like Professor Binns, their History of Magic teacher, in the way that he taught the lesson, paying very little attention to what anyone was actually doing.

This wasn't a fantastic teaching method when dealing with dangerous offensive spells, so Winona was a little nervous when he paired her up with one of the twins, barely blinking at them before moving on to the next pair.

"And which one am I, then?" the twin partnered with her asked playfully.

"Why, have you forgotten?" she quipped, twirling her wand in one hand and using her other one to brush her blonde hair out of her eyes.

It was somewhat of a game the three of them would play. Since her detention with Fred, the twins had become closer friends with her, often partnering with her in Herbology (which they soon discovered was a mistake; she was _terrible _at Herbology) or more often, Charms.

They would always ask her which was which, doing all in their power to try and trick her. She'd gotten good at telling them apart, not so much because she could see a physical difference, but because she could tell, deep in her gut, who was who.

She figured this was a side effect of the new 'talent' she'd recently discovered.

The things she drew came true.

Not everything she drew, but sometimes she would black out, and when she came to, there was a prediction scribbled on the paper before her. Still afraid of people's reaction, she said nothing, assuming it was merely a magical trait some witches had, and keeping it to herself.

Again, she was really just a big fan of ignoring a problem until it (hopefully) went away.

So far the worst thing she'd predicted was a food fight breaking out in the Great Hall, so she didn't feel _too_ guilty about hiding this particular ability from her fellow magical-folk.

"Well?" the twin beside her prompted impatiently, and she blinked back to herself.

"Okay, _George_," she said clearly, grinning when disappointment showed on his face. "Give me your best shot."

It was her last class on a Friday, so after knocking George off his feet three times (he got her three times too, but she still maintained that he cheated that last time), she had nothing to do until dinner, and decided to go secure a spot in the Great Hall, pulling out her sketchbook and beginning to draw, letting her mind wander as her hand moved effortlessly across the page.

"Seen the twins?" a familiar voice asked. She glanced up from her rough sketch of a tawny owl, raising an eyebrow at Lee.

"We just had DADA with them," she replied. "How could you have lost them already?"

"They're not as easy to find as you might assume."

"Maybe they don't want to be found."

"Which can only mean that we should all start running," the dreadlocked boy jested, and Winona couldn't help but give a tiny smile. "Have you finished the essay on the twelve uses of dragon blood?" he asked curiously, pulling out a roll of parchment and eyeing it with a thoughtful frown.

"It isn't due for another three days," she shrugged, going back to her sketch, absently running her pencil along the paper.

She could feel Lee's incredulous stare on the side of her head. "Are you saying you haven't even started it yet?" he asked, lips twitching up in amusement.

She looked up at him blankly. "It'll get done in time."

"By leaving it to the last minute?"

"I do all my best work under pressure," she shot him a sly grin.

Lee rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless."

"What're you two up to?" the familiar voice of one of the twins spoke up. She felt someone slide into place beside her, and looked up to see one twin to her left, the other opposite her next to Lee.

"Lee's trying to tell me my study habits are bad form," she smirked, glancing to her side and rolling her eyes at Fred playfully.

"I've been looking for you two," Lee said, leaning across the table to whisper to Fred. "Is operation: bubble-bath, underway?"

"Oh Merlin," Winona muttered, slamming her sketchbook shut and giving the trio her full attention. "What're you up to now?"

"We're not sure-"

"That you can be trusted-"

"With such sensitive information-"

"Who knows who you'll go blabbing to?" The twins must have had one mind, it was the only possible way they could have done that so flawlessly. That or they practised every night before bed.

"So little faith," she murmured mostly to herself, turning to the side, bringing on leg up onto the bench and curling it under her as she faced Fred. "Have I ever given you boys a reason not to trust me?"

The twins glanced at each other thoughtfully. "She has a point there, Freddie," George pointed out.

"She has been awfully loyal so far-"

"And we _could_ use an extra set of eyes for this one-"

"It's decided then-"

"Meet us in the common room at eight."

Winona's jaw dropped open in surprise as she stared at the twins incredulously. "I said I wanted to know what you were doing, not that I was volunteering my services for your next scheme," she hissed seriously, though not unkindly.

They grinned widely, her sharp words as ineffective as water off a duck's back.

"Relax, Andrews," Fred drawled around a smirk. "We only need a lookout."

"Oh," she murmured back sarcastically. "Is _that_ all?"

"C'mon," George goaded, leaning closer and wagging his eyebrows at her. "What could possibly go wrong?"

She sent him a flat, unimpressed look. "Everything, now that you've gone ahead and jinxed it," she countered dryly, and Fred rolled his eyes before shooting her a pleading expression. His brother quickly caught on, copying the look and turning it onto her on full force. Winona grit her teeth as she sighed. "Fine," she grumbled, less than pleased. "What do you need me to do?"

Turns out, it was a lot easier than she thought it would be. All that was required of her was to stand outside the prefect's bathroom casually ("try not to look suspicious, Winona, otherwise it'll ruin the whole thing") and cough really loudly if a teacher walked by. They were in there for at least five minutes before she began to get get restless.

With a huff she sank to the ground, pulling out her sketchbook and a fresh pencil, beginning to run the graphite across the paper in long, confident and practised strokes. She hummed quietly to herself, deciding that it was much less suspicious to be sitting there sketching instead of just standing pointlessly.

She'd just finished a rough outline of Peeves (the poltergeist that terrorised the school; rotten little thing, but interesting to try and recreate on paper) when Fred stumbled out of the bathroom, wet hair plastered to his forehead and clothes covered in soapy bubbles.

Alarmed, Winona shoved her things into the safety of her bag and climbed to her feet, staring at him with wide eyes. "What the bloody hell...?" she trailed off, crease appearing between her arched brows.

He grinned, a large smile that bunched up his cheeks, showed all of his teeth and made his eyes sparkle in a way she would never be able to replicate with a pencil. She almost had the urge to smile with him, but controlled herself, her wariness taking precedence.

She glanced to the right to see Lee trip from the depths of the bathroom, covered in bubbles. George followed not a second later, giggling to himself as his feet slipped on the slippery marble floor.

"Unless you want to get wet, I suggest you run," Fred told her, something like pride in his eyes. Winona's eyes widened in alarm. Her sketches couldn't get wet, the colours would run!

She scooped up her bag just as a wall of bubbles pushed its way out of the prefect bathroom. "Oh Merlin," she muttered, turning around and making a dash for the stairs, hoping they wouldn't be powerful enough to follow her up there; but who knew? They were _magical_ bubbles, after all.

The twins and Lee followed her, cackling all the way as they tried to stay ahead of the rapidly building wall of pink bubbles. She finally made it to the stairs leading to a tower she hadn't been to yet, taking them two at a time in an effort to stay dry.

A hand grabbed her arm and gently pulled her to a stop. She spun around to look at Fred and the others. They'd all stopped running, pausing halfway up the stairs and grinning down at the sea of bubbles below that – thankfully – seemed to have stopped rising.

Now that the immediate danger of her work getting ruined was eliminated, she peered down at the lake of pink bubbles, recognising the scent of bubblegum as it wafted up to her. A smile began on her lips, and she couldn't have stopped the grin from escaping if she'd tried.

"Impressed?" Fred asked with a wide smirk, flipping his red hair out of his eyes and leaning back against the stone of the wall behind him in a show of cool nonchalance.

"Beyond impressed," she admitted, staring down at the bubbles with a grin. "How'd you even _do_ that?"

"Zonko's," George answered like it was obvious. She didn't know what that was, but she nodded anyway. "Charlie got them for us a few years back, and we've been saving them for the perfect occasion."

"We had to modify the product a little, of course, but I think it worked out rather well," Fred added with the largest grin on his face that Winona had ever seen.

"Is it dangerous?" she asked suddenly, considering the fact that there might have been some students on that floor.

"'Course not," George sniffed like she'd offended them by asking. "I mean, anyone on the floor will smell like bubblegum for _at least_ the next month, but apart from that it's harmless."

"Right," she murmured, lips lifted in amusement. "And how, exactly, did you plan on getting down?"

All three boys' smirks fell as they considered the predicament. They were on the steps to the tower; the only place to go from there was up, lest they want to wade into the sea of pink bubbles. "Oh," both twins murmured at the same time, brows furrowed. Clearly they hadn't thought that far ahead.

Rolling her eyes, still smirking in delight, she chuckled at them. "You really should always have an escape plan."

They still looked completely lost. They hadn't learnt any vanishing or cleaning charms yet, so they were at a loss for what to do.

"Okay," Winona took pity on the trio. "Look, no doubt the teachers know about this already, they'll come clean it up any minute now. If we stay stuck up here and spin a big story when they find us about how we thought we'd be trapped for ages, they won't think it was us. We'll be in the clear."

They were all silent for a long, long moment, until finally they broke out into large, goofy grins. "You're a genius, you are," George told her brightly.

"We should hire you," Fred added just as emphatically. "You can be our official...manager!"

Winona's nose crinkled at the sound of it. "I don't want to be your manager," she told them flatly, but they completely ignored her words.

"Oh, it'll be brilliant!" George continued. "She can come up with excuses all the time-"

"And cover for us when we're scheming-"

"And watch our backs during missions!"

"Guys, I actually really don't want to," she tried to say, frowning as she tugged at a loose thread on her old bag.

"And she can help us come up with ideas-"

"Really more of an assistant than a manager-"

"But still valuable all the same-"

"_Boys_," she snapped, and they turned to look at her, beaming smiles fixed firmly into place. She sighed, rubbing her temples in an action far beyond that of an eleven-year-old. "This is another one of those thing that I don't actually have a choice with, isn't it?" she asked tiredly, already knowing the answer.

They grinned wider, moving up a step to throw their arms over her shoulders. "Welcome aboard, Win!" they chimed together, squeezing her tightly, and though she was vaguely annoyed, she couldn't help but also feel oddly content; like she finally felt accepted, like she had finally found where she belonged.

* * *

"What's the wand movement for the mice-to-snuffbox again?" George asked from where he sat by the fire, end of his quill tapping his chin.

"Why were we even _given _homework?" Winona complained with a sour frown from the couch, voice muffled by the book laying open on her face. "Where's McGonagall's Christmas spirit?"

"Christmas was over two weeks ago," Lee told her flatly from the armchair to the left.

"So two weeks before Christmas, you can have Christmas spirit, but two weeks after all bets are off?" she demanded, annoyed by the social rule. Fred and George laughed from where they sat.

"That's how it works," Lee said, rolling his eyes with a hint of a fond smile visible at the corners of his lips.

Winona huffed in displeasure and Fred leaned over to pull the book from her head, revealing her scrunched up face. "Come on," he said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was paying them any attention before continuing. "We need to talk about Operation: Idiot-Buzzer."

All the members of the newly formed quartet had gone home for the holidays – except for Winona. It wasn't like she even had a welcoming home to go back to.

She lived with foster parents – her ninth set since she'd been orphaned. They weren't terrible – she'd had plenty of worse ones in the past – but they certainly wouldn't be winning any foster-parent-of-the-year awards any time soon. Suffice to say, she preferred a near-empty Hogwarts to a tiny bedroom with paper-thin walls and screaming foster parents any day.

She'd stayed at Hogwarts, spending all of her time sketching and playing in the snow. Only about five other students in the whole school stayed too, and none of them in Gryffindor, so she was left blessedly alone.

After so many months of near-constant interacting, it was nice to have a week to herself, revelling in the rare quiet and enjoying the cold weather.

She was kind of worried that separating would weaken the newfound friendship she'd found in the twins and Lee, but once they were back together again, it was as though they'd never left. It was strange having friends – people who cared about you, actually wanted to _spend time_ with you. It wasn't anything she'd ever been used to before.

She was still close with the girls, Alicia especially, but there was something about the twins that drew her in. They made her laugh, more than she ever had before. They could have her in stitches with little more than a glance.

"What about it?" she asked Fred, trying to mask how eager she sounded. She was warming to the process of pranking; in fact, she was really beginning to _love_ it. She didn't have the same passion for it that Fred and George did, but it was kind of like having a fight. She got to inflict damage, but instead of people hating her for it, it made them laugh. Kind of the perfect balance, really.

"Well, Carroll will be suspicious if any of us blokes come up to him," Fred began, keeping his voice low so as to not attract attention. She pictured the fourth-year Slytherin with his hairy arms and alarming sweat problem, and shuddered at the thought of getting close to him. "But if Win, say, trips in front of him and slips the buzzer into his pocket, he'll be none the wiser."

George said something in response, but Winona was momentarily dumbfounded by the nickname Fred had given her. It wasn't one she'd ever really come across before, everyone simply called her _Winona, _or _Winnie_ for short_._ However, she found herself not minding the new nickname so much – in fact she might have even _liked_ it.

As the moment of surprise wore off, she realised they were all looking at her.

"Huh?" she asked bluntly, blinking in shock, trying to figure out what she'd missed.

"I said: you think you can handle it, Win?" George repeated slowly, and she didn't miss his casual use of her new nickname either.

"Of course," she replied instantly, shrugging off her momentary stumble. "Pretend to trip, slip the buzzer into his pocket and go on my merry way," she listed, checking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was paying her any attention. "Easy as cake."

It turned out it _wasn't _going to be as easy as cake.

Later that day, when she found herself preparing for the prank, she had a sinking feeling in her gut, like some part of her knew that everything was going to go horribly, terribly wrong. "You'll be all right," Lee told her encouragingly before rather unceremoniously shoving her out from around the corner she was hiding behind.

With a grunt she stumbled out into the open, and stopping herself from turning to glare at Lee, she trudged forwards. Fred and George were waiting in the Great Hall, preparing to set off the buzzer when Carroll came in for dinner.

She sucked in a deep breath and moved towards the large group of Slytherins. She did just as she'd been told to, faking a trip and stumbling into John Carroll's side, inconspicuously slipping the small red, magical buzzer into the pocket of his robes.

She wasn't expecting him to shove her back roughly, sending her sprawled across the dirty stone ground of the courtyard and blinking up at the grey sky in shock. "Beat it, dirty half-blood," Carroll snapped while his Slytherin buddies howled with laughter. "Bloody first years."

The shock from the encounter faded away, replaced by a hot fury. All she could remember was all the times she'd been struck in the past, always by older, more privileged people who knew it was a fight they could easily win. Gritting her teeth, Winona stood to her feet, hands already balled into fists.

"Hey, Dung-For-Brains!" she snapped, and the cackling Slytherins all turned to look at her in surprise. "Touch me again and I'll dislocate your dick from your body," she hissed.

Carroll's eyes went wide before narrowing dangerously. "Tough words from a first year," he sneered. "You really think you can hurt me?"

"I think so," she snarled, taking a step closer and preparing to hit him.

Just as suddenly two arms wrapped around her middle, hefting her up and dragging her forcefully backwards. "Just kidding!" Lee called to the group of Slytherins, adding in a nervous laugh for show. "She's kidding! She does that a lot, kidding around! Have a nice day!"

Winona struggled against Lee's hold, but he didn't put her down until they were back inside the castle, away from Slytherin eyes. "Why'd you do that?" she complained, trying very hard not to stamp her foot like a petulant child. "I could've taken him."

Lee snorted. "Yeah," he said patronisingly. "Maybe if he was deaf, blind, _and_ tied up."

"You've never seen me fight," she argued even as they turned to head back to the Great Hall.

"I've seen you in general," he replied. "You can't weigh more than twenty-five kilos soaking wet."

"Keep it up and I'll dislocate _your_ dick from your body," Winona muttered grumpily.

"You okay?" he suddenly asked her, and she turned to look at him in confusion. He nodded warily to her hand. When she glanced down she had to stifle a gasp. There was a large scrape on her palm, just below her thumb, and it was bleeding bright crimson blood that smeared wetly across her skin. Now that she knew it was there, it began to sting like a mother.

She cussed, holding the injury closer to her body.

"How did you not feel that sooner?" asked Lee in sheer bewilderment.

She just lifted her shoulders in a lame shrug. "Damn," she muttered as she experimentally stretched her sore hand, dodging a group of seventh years as they made their way towards the Great Hall where the twins were waiting.

"Come on," her friend said in an uncharacteristically stern tone. "Hospital Wing for you, missy."

Fear gripped her instantly and she froze where she stood in the hallway, making the third year walking behind her nearly run into her back. "I'm fine," she assured Lee, eyes wide and panicked. She struggled to rein in her reaction, but it was proving to be difficult. "I know some healing spells, I'll be fine," she told him unconvincingly.

"What? Winnie, don't be ridiculous. Come on, it's this way."

"No, Lee," she said firmly, gritting her teeth and staring up at him flatly. "I'm not going."

It was clear her friend didn't want to relent, but in the end he did, knowing that Winona could be incredibly stubborn under the right, or maybe _wrong_, circumstances. "Fine," he said with narrowed eyes. "Are we going to dinner or what?" he asked suddenly, a smile in his voice.

Although suspicious of his change of demeanour, she followed him, shoving her hand deep into the pocket of her robes and watching him closely. It would be fine until she got back to the dorms, then she could wash it or something. For now, she just had to deal with the pain.

The Great Hall was only half full when they arrived, but Fred and George had reserved the seats opposite them anyway. The two friends slid into their spots, and Lee began to fill his plate with chicken while Winona merely smiled at the boys, using her uninjured hand to take a drink of pumpkin juice.

"How'd it go?" the twins asked eagerly, leaning forwards so they wouldn't be overheard, excited grins on their faces.

"Fine," she lied.

"Winona hurt her hand," Lee said bluntly, not even looking up at her as he spoke.

She whipped around to glare at him. "You traitor!" she hissed, feeling like if her good hand didn't hurt so much, she'd slap him clean across his stupid face.

"What?" Fred and George asked, their usually bright expressions dimming in worry. "What happened?"

"Carroll pushed her over," he told them with a frown, mouth full of chicken, clearly starving. "Then she threatened to dislocate his dick – and I don't even know if that's even anatomically possible-"

"Ooh, that's big word for someone who pronounces the 'g' in lasagna," she muttered snidely, but he paid her no attention.

"So I had to pull her out of there kicking and screaming before she got into even more trouble than usual."

The twins stared at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

Winona scowled at him. "You're the worst, Lee," she growled, but the dreadlocked boy was unbothered, happy to just keep stuffing his face with food. "Screw you," she added venomously. Lee did nothing but shoot her a grin around his full mouth.

Fred eyed the hand he could see and frowned once he determined it was healthy. "Show me," he ordered her sternly, holding out his own hand expectantly.

She wanted to say no, but he had a steely look in his blue eyes that she hadn't seen on him before. This was what friends did, right? They helped one another when they were hurt?

With an unwilling huff, she withdrew the hand from her pocket, placing it in his and keeping her eyes on the enchanted ceiling above them. "Gulping gargoyles!" Fred exclaimed, eyeing the deep graze and the blood smeared across her broken skin. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing!"

"No!" she cried, much louder than she'd meant to. "No," she repeated, much softer and drawing far less attention. "I'm fine."

"Are you kidding?" George asked, having stopped eating to study the injured hand in his brother's with concern. "That looks nasty. It needsto be cleaned and healed."

Seeing no way out of it, she nodded her head. "You're right," she said as absolutely straight-faced as she could, standing to her feet and shooting them a tight smile. "I'll go right now."

Without so much as another word she turned and headed for the doors, walking at a slow speed so she didn't arouse suspicion. It sucked that she had to go without dinner, but that was an affordable price to pay if it meant getting out of visiting the Hospital Wing; she shuddered at the mere thought.

She was fairly certain she was in the clear, halfway to Gryffindor tower, when a voice from behind her made her stop dead.

"The Hospital Wing's in the other direction."

Silently cursing her bad luck, she turned around to face Fred, forcing a perplexed expression onto her face. "Oh, is it?" she asked, blinking up at him innocently.

Fred looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "Come on," he said, stepping closer to her and wrapping his larger hand around her small wrist, pulling her along. "You _have_ to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Fred," she said, pulling frantically in the opposite direction. "Please, _please _don't make me go!" she all but begged.

He stopped, turning to look down at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "Why won't you go?" he asked, blue eyes studying her like she was one of the perplexing plants down in the greenhouses. She looked vulnerable – and that was something he could say, in the whole five months he'd known her, she'd never once looked.

She answered him reluctantly, knowing he wouldn't give up until he had the truth.

"What was that?" he asked after she spoke, and she realised she'd mumbled her words so quietly that they were unintelligible.

She took a deep breath, glaring at him in annoyance. "I said, I have a fear of hospitals, okay?" she hissed, realising he was still holding her wrist and ripping it from his grip.

He was bewildered by her confession. "Why?" he finally asked.

There was a reason, of course there was, but they'd been friends for a few months at best, she didn't want to burden him with her slightly-tragic backstory, so instead she merely shrugged, eyes moving to the floor as she lied. "I dunno, they've just always freaked me out."

"Well, then what do you do when you're sick?"

"I dunno," she said lamely. "I guess I just hope I get better."

She'd never had a foster family who'd cared enough to send her to a doctor – not that she'd even go if they tried.

He seemed to consider her words for awhile, pursing his lips thoughtfully before eventually a wide smile (a _much_ more in-character expression, thank Merlin) appeared on his face. "This way, then," he prompted her, herding her in the other direction.

A wave of terror crashed through her insides. "No, Fred-"

"Relax," he told her with an easy grin that made the storm of fear in her gut calm. He led her down the corridor and into another hallway where he gently nudged her in the direction of a bathroom. It was the girl's room, but Fred couldn't seem to care less, leading her over to the sinks. "You _have_ to at least wash it," he ordered her softly, turning the handle and letting the water run.

She was reluctant to do as he said, but knew it was either that or the Hospital Wing, and option one was looking _far_ more attractive than option two.

She shuffled over to his side, reluctantly giving him her hand. He gently took her bloody hand, moving it under the warm water. Winona hissed when it made contact with her wound, flinching in pain but forcing herself not to escape Fred's grasp. "Merlin, you got a lot of gravel in here, that's why it hurts so much," he told her apologetically, "but we have to get it out."

She closed her eyes, deciding she couldn't watch as his deft fingers ran over her injury, cleaning the gravel and dirt from it. After a few moments the pain faded, and while it still stung, the feeling of the water running over it began to feel soothing.

Much too soon for her liking, the tap shut off and Fred let go of her hand. She hesitantly peeked open her eyes, watching the twin as he opened his robes to reveal an old grey t-shirt with black stains on the front that she didn't even want to _consider_ the origin of.

To Winona's surprise, he grasped the bottom and ripped, tearing a large strip off the fabric and holding it up for her to see. "You didn't have to do that," she told him with a concerned frown. Would his mother be angry that he did that for her?

"It's nothing," he insisted with a smile, picking up her throbbing hand and gently wrapping the fabric around her wound.

"How do you know all this stuff?" she asked him curiously, trying to distract herself from the pain in her hand.

He snorted, clearly finding amusement in the question. "Imagine George and I at the age of five."

She couldn't help but snigger quietly. "Enough said."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "It was either fix it ourselves or admit the trouble we'd gotten into to Mum." With a simple flourish of his hands he tied the fabric, securing it in place around her palm. "There we are, Win," he told her with a smile. "All patched up. You'll be good as new in a few days." She wanted to say thank you, but he continued before she got the chance. "Now we need to talk about revenge tactics for Carroll. I'm thinking a nice dung-bomb in the book bag, or maybe we could read up on hexes and test new ones on him on the way to class..."

Winona knew she was beyond lucky to have a friend like Fred, and as she smiled up at him, all she could think about was how grateful she was that she took after her parents' magical abilities, and how grateful she was to be at Hogwarts at the same time as all her friends.

She suddenly couldn't imagine a world without any of them. And she didn't want to.

* * *

Winona was humming to herself distractedly from where she sat at the Gryffindor table, absent-mindedly munching on an apple for breakfast and using her free hand to sketch a simple horizon, considering the colour palate she would use in the back of her mind.

"I'm telling you, Filch is _definitely_ part troll," one of the twins was saying as the pair wandered up to the table, taking their seats on the bench opposite a distracted Winona.

"It's a brilliant theory, but we're gonna need some form of proof," the other one responded as though they were simply talking about writing an essay for Transfiguration.

"Get detention," Winona told them distractedly, eyes on her work as she added more shadows to the mountains.

The twins were silent for a beat. "Oh," they murmured together.

"We'll get detention from him," George said suddenly with a large grin – as though it had all been his idea, and Winona finally looked up at them, rolling her eyes. "He'll take us to his broom-closet of an office and we can rifle through his things; he's bound to have something incriminating buried deep in his drawers."

"Brilliant! Now, how shall we go about earning this detention?" Fred mused, pressing a finger to the dimple in his chin.

"You could go for the classic 'out past curfew' method," Winona suggested. "It never fails."

"But it's too _easy_," he complained with a pout.

"We feed off of challenges," George added brightly.

"I'm sure you two will come up with something brilliant," she told them honestly before growing bored of the conversation and turning back to her work.

She wasn't expecting to black out at all, and certainly not so suddenly. She sucked in a gasp as everything went dark, then images flickered across her vision, so quick that she couldn't even begin to process them. She felt like she was floating, not connected to her body in any way.

Then suddenly she was falling, wind rushing past her ears as she plummeted towards the ground, body humming with a dark kind of electricity that made her feel ill and her heart race. She was going to die, she was sure of it. Or, was she already dead? All she knew was she was falling, down and down and down, her body weightless and how far was the ground and oh God it would never end and-

She wasn't sure how long had passed, but some time later her vision came back with a small stab of pain to her head, the bright lights of the Great Hall making her eyes ache.

"Win?"

She looked up in shock, eyes wide as she stared across the table at the alarmed looking Weasley twins. "Huh?" she asked dumbly, words escaping her, body still humming from the force of the terrifying episode.

They stared at her in concern. "We've been trying to get your attention but you were out of it for a good few minutes," Fred told her with furrowed brows.

"Thought we were gonna have to cart you off to Saint Mungo's to get your sanity, tested," George added with a teasing grin. Winona recovered just enough to roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Sorry," she apologised halfheartedly, glancing down at the new drawing on the page before her.

Her breath caught in her throat. There, in the grey shades of her led pencil, was the shape of Professor Dumbledore, dead on the ground, eyes staring unseeingly up at the dark sky, the pavement cracked around him as though he'd hit it hard enough to kill him.

She slammed her sketchbook shut and with wide eyes clamoured up from the Gryffindor table. "I have to go," she told her friends hurriedly, already shoving her belongings into her thready satchel.

"What?" they asked in unison, staring up at her in bewilderment.

"Something – it's important...gotta go now..." she stammered, too thrown to put together a coherent sentence. "I'll see you at supper."

She was fleeing from the table before either brother could so much as utter a word.

Ideally, she'd have gone directly to the Headmaster himself, the only problem was she didn't know where his office was. She did, however, know where Professor McGonagall's office was, and so she sprinted down the hallways, darting past a surprised Professor Sprout who yelled after her not to run in the corridors.

She thanked her lucky stars that her Head of House was in her office, attention focused on the essay she was marking.

"Professor!" Winona blurted, tumbling into the room clumsily.

"Miss Andrews?" McGonagall asked with wide eyes, startled by the usually calm student's abrupt, dishevelled appearance.

"I have to speak with the Headmaster, _immediately_," she managed to get out in between her exhausted puffs.

McGonagall eyed her thoughtfully. "May I enquire as to why?" she asked coolly, remaining calm despite the nervous desperation Winona was exuding.

"It's-" she cut herself off, realising that she couldn't very well tell the truth, even by wizarding standards sketching the future wasn't commonplace – of that she was sure. "It's personal," she said before she could think of a better excuse.

The Transfiguration teacher narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Between you and-"

"Professor Dumbledore, yes," she nodded her head, eyeing the older woman hopefully. McGonagall sighed and Winona knew her chances were growing slimmer by the heartbeat. "_Please_, Professor," she pleaded, because she wasn't above begging.

She stared at her teacher imploringly, desperate for her to understand how dire the situation was. She contemplated telling her it was life or death, but decided she didn't want to come off as melodramatic.

"Very well," McGonagall eventually relented, and Winona struggled not to slump with relief and murmured her sincere thanks. The teacher stood to her feet, sweeping from the room, dark green robes trailing along the stone floor behind her.

Winona hurried to keep up with her, letting the older witch lead her through corridors and up stairs until finally they came to a stop outside of a large, looming gargoyle.

She'd never been to this part of the castle before, and she watched in awe as McGonagall murmured, "Cockroach Clusters," and the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing a winding stone staircase that moved when they stepped onto it.

They ended up at a pair of large double doors. The Transfiguration teacher knocked on it thrice and a moment later a voice that she hadn't heard since the start of year feast called out for them to enter.

McGonagall swept into the room, but Winona hesitated, reconsidering her plan. Was telling the Headmaster really the best plan of action? What if he considered the drawing a threat? Worse, what if he thought she was just batshit crazy and locked her in some kind of Wizard-madhouse?

"Miss Andrews?" McGonagall prompted her, snapping her out of her spiral of doubt.

She didn't really have a choice. If this sketch was going to come to pass, she had to warn him. She wasn't sure whether her predictions could be changed or avoided, but she'd heard amazing things about Dumbledore, and if anyone could help her, it would be him.

Forcing her head up high and, calling on the Gryffindor courage that she supposed _had_ to be hiding somewhere within her, she slipped into the room.

She was momentarily distracted by the brilliance of the Headmaster's office. It was massive and round, with all sorts of gadgets and instruments sitting on every available bench space, whirring away, doing whatever they were designed to do. The walls were covered in beautifully painted portraits of older men and women who she assumed could only be previous Headmasters and Headmistresses of the school.

Dumbledore was sitting behind a magnificent and regal looking desk, hands folded calmly on the face as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at her curiously, blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

"Hello, Miss Andrews," he greeted her. She was surprised that he knew her name before realising that McGonagall had only said it moments previous and he'd no doubt overheard.

"Good evening, Professor," she considered curtsying, but figured it would be a tad overkill.

"Miss Andrews said she had an urgent and personal matter to discuss with you," McGonagall said slowly, making her skepticism clear.

"Take a seat, my dear," the Headmaster offered, gesturing to the grand and comfortable looking chair sitting opposite him at his desk. She hesitated again, and McGonagall nudged her forwards. "Thank you, Minerva," he said to his colleague in kind dismissal once Winona had taken a seat in the cushioned chair, looking over the desk at him warily.

She didn't look back, but heard the door close behind her teacher as she left the room.

Winona said nothing, staring at the professor cautiously, mostly because she had no idea how to begin. Dumbledore suddenly smiled at her. "Lemon drop?" he asked pleasantly, gently pushing the little silver bowl in her direction.

She took one with a murmured 'thank you', but only so she had something to do with her hands. Her fingers shook as she reached out for it, and she moved faster, hoping the Headmaster hadn't noticed. She popped it directly into her mouth, pleasantly surprised by how she enjoyed the sour taste on her tongue.

She figured you could probably chew these sweets, but she was desperate to stall for more time, putting off the inevitable, and so she sucked on it, letting her eyes roam around the room in an attempt to get out of meeting his eyes.

Dumbledore was silent, his intelligent, twinkling eyes focused on her intently. She wondered what he must have been thinking, wondered how she was going to tell him about her ability, wondered how he might react. Finally, when the lemon drop was all gone, he spoke up. "Are you all right, miss Andrews?" he asked gently, blue eyes watching her closely.

"I can draw the future."

Okay, so she panicked.

To his credit, Dumbledore didn't seem to react, expression staying steady, eyes not even widening in surprise. She convinced herself that he thought she was insane, and her muscles coiled in preparation to run. "Perhaps the best place to begin, would be the beginning," the Headmaster told her calmly, a hint of intrigue in his ancient gaze.

"Sometimes I black out," she spoke so softly that she was worried he wouldn't hear, but she couldn't make her voice any louder. "Everything goes dark, and there are these flashes. They go by too fast for me to see them, and I forget them by the time I wake up. And when I do – wake up, that is – there's a new sketch in my book that I don't remember drawing, and sooner or later, I see the exact same scene happening in real life. Nothing too bad so far, I mean, I drew you before I even knew I was a witch, and things like people falling down stairs, or food fights in the Great Hall. But then, today, I drew something bad."

She couldn't have stopped herself from talking if she'd wanted to. Once she'd started it was like the floodgates were open and she couldn't stop, she was so relieved to be telling _someone_. Dumbledore might haveseemed a little shady and mysterious in general, but if she couldn't trust the Headmaster of her school, then really, who could she trust?

She was expecting silence, or maybe incredulity, but instead he merely stared back at her with intrigued eyes. "What did you draw?"

She hesitated again, not wanting to say it. She met his eyes, and he levelled her with a stern look that was both terrifying and comforting; somehow she knew he could handle it. "I drew _you_, sir," she admitted reluctantly, swallowing the thick ball in her throat. "I drew you dead."

This time he _was_ silent, though he didn't appear shocked. He seemed to consider her admission, gaze turning thoughtful as he contemplated her words. "May I see this drawing?" he asked politely, and with unsteady hands – not totally sure he wasn't going to call her crazy – she dug her book from her bag, shakily flipping to the most recently used page.

She swallowed thickly once more, placing it on top of the desk and sliding it across the smooth wood until it sat under Dumbledore's chin. He stared down at it through his half-moon spectacles, silent for a long time as he studied the sketch.

Winona shifted nervously in the comfortable chair, paint-stained hands twisting anxiously in her lap.

"Hm," the Headmaster hummed after the longest time, leaning back in his chair and turning his gaze to Winona, appraising her carefully. "What else have you drawn that has come true?"

"Nothing that I haven't told you," she said, then paused, wondering if she should continue. "But, there are some things I've blacked out and drawn, but they haven't happened yet, and I don't know what they mean."

"May I see?" he inquired gently, once more folding his hands on his desk and staring across at her patiently.

She wasn't sure why he wasn't freaking out (she'd just predicted his _death_, after all), but still she complied, pulling her book back to her and flipping through the pages. She'd marked the corner of each 'black-out-sketch', as she'd dubbed them, with a small star. She moved to the next one in the book, holding it up for the Professor to see.

"There aren't heaps of them," she told him, showing him the picture of the old, regal looking locket she'd blacked out and sketched only days before. "It doesn't happen often, though occasionally it will happen in front of somebody; that's always fun to explain," she added, a tiny bit bitter.

She turned to the next one once he'd nodded his head, showing him the last picture, this one a large, extremely detailed one that she'd been out for a good hour drawing.

It was that boy, the one she'd drawn that first day, the first time she'd ever blacked out. It wasn't the only time he'd appeared, unbidden, in her sketches. Out of all the 'predictions' she'd made, the majority of them were of him.

It was strange; there didn't seem to be anything special about him, and he wasn't ever doing anything interesting. In one he was merely standing at a train station, another he was stroking the back of a snowy owl. His wild black hair and pair of strange-but-suitable circular glasses over those striking emerald green eyes had become familiar to her. The most distinctive thing about the young boy was the lightening bolt scar that sat clear as day on his forehead.

"I draw him a lot," she divulged, tone quiet as she reached out to brush a hand down the image. "He keeps appearing. But I have no idea who he is," she said, gentle as she flipped to yet another sketch of the stranger, this one of him holding a wand up in the air, a halo of light around his head.

This, more than anything else, seemed to evoke a reaction from the Headmaster. He blinked in surprise, leaning over the desk to examine the series of sketches more closely.

"Harry Potter," he murmured, more to himself than to her, and hope so soared in Winona's chest. He knew who this was? Did he have the answers she'd spent _so_ many months contemplating and contemplating, until her head began to ache?

"Who's Harry Potter?" she asked curiously, leaning around the book to peek at the sketch herself. Every time she looked at it, there was a spark of something in her chest. Like she _knew_ him already, like he was familiar in more than just appearance. "You know who that is, Professor?" she asked the old wizard breathlessly, looking away from the sketch to see his eyes full of a hundred thousand thoughts more complicated than she was likely to ever understand.

Dumbledore seemed to mull over his next words for a long few moments, and she clung onto the hope that he would give her the answers she craved.

Dumbledore nodded to himself, then after a beat, opened his mouth and began to tell her the tale of Harry Potter. Winona knew who He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was, of course – she wasn't entirely oblivious. She knew he was an incredibly evil wizard who had started a war in the Wizarding world back when she was a baby. She knew he was defeated, but she didn't know that it was by a little boy who'd survived a deadly spell she wasn't sure she ever wanted to learn about. This little boy had in turn destroyed You-Know-Who, and then left the wizarding world to grow up in peace.

"But how do you know this is him, Sir?" she asked with a confused frown, staring at the picture she'd drawn, wondering why she'd drawn _him,_ of all people. What did he have to do with _her_?

"That scar is legendary," Dumbledore told her in an even voice. "As is the boy who bears it."

She was dying to ask the most pressing question, the only one she _really _cared about. "Why did I draw him, sir?" she asked, quiet but insistent.

"Because he has a destiny greater than either of us can imagine."

She frowned again, feeling as though getting a straight answer was going to be potentially problematic. She decided to set aside thoughts of Harry Potter for the time being, focusing her attention on the bigger picture.

"What I mean is, why am I drawing these things at all, Professor?" she asked him, confusion knitting at her young brow. "Why am I blacking out and waking up with drawings that come true? Is there something wrong with me?" she questioned, fear like a black hole in her gut, sucking at her insides unpleasantly.

The Headmaster observed her for a long minute, fingers steepled under his chin. His unwavering stare unnerved her, and she tried not to audibly gulp in reaction to its intensity. "I believe, miss Andrews, that you may be what we call a Seer," he finally told her, and she just stopped breathing altogether, "and, judging by these, a very powerful one, at that."

"A _Seer_?" she echoed incredulously. She thought back to the sorting all those months ago. "The hat!" she exclaimed, turning where she sat to point an accusing finger at the sorting hat which sat, idle and silent, on a shelf in the corner. "It said I was a Seer, back when it sorted me. How'd it know?"

"It's almost dinner time," Dumbledore told her abruptly, voice cheerful and flippant. She nearly got whiplash from the sudden change of demeanour. "Why don't I escort you down to the Great Hall?"

Panic gripped her; she needed answers! "But Professor-"

"Come along," he cut her off airily, pushing himself to his feet, golden robes brushing the floor as he walked around his extravagant desk and wandered over to the doors.

Not willing to let the matter drop, she hastily shoved her sketchbook back into her bag and scurried after him. "Sir, I have so many questions," she told him desperately as they made their way down the stairs, Winona's head tilted right back so she could attempt to meet his eyes, though he kept his on the path ahead of them.

The corridors were empty, everybody already in the Great Hall for supper. "I assure you, Miss Andrews, that I have just as many," he told her with that same, misty smile. "There's somebody I believe you should speak with."

"Oh?" she asked, breath hitching, hoping it wasn't a doctor of any sort.

"Professor Trelawney is Hogwarts' Divination teacher," he told her matter-of-factly. "She, more than anyone, is qualified to assess your ability in this matter," he said, fingers clasped in front of his golden robes as they walked towards the Great Hall. His hands were old and gnarled, large rings sitting like golden vines over the weathered roots that were his fingers. She ached to sketch them, then chastised herself for getting so distracted.

"There's a class on this stuff?" she asked him instead, hope tinging her voice.

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips from behind his magnificent, wiry beard. "It's only available for students in third year or above," he told her casually. "But I believe that, circumstances being as miraculous as they are, we may be able to make an exception."

Her eyes widened again, this time in horror as a terrible thought came to her mind, one that made her blood turn to ice. "I don't want to do anything differently to anyone else," she insisted immediately, heart jumping in her throat at the thought of anyone finding out about her and her…_peculiar_ talent.

How would her friends react? Would they treat her like a freak? Would she be an outcast, losing all those she already held so dear? She didn't know what she'd do if the twins shunned her for being a freak amongst freaks – not to mention Lee or the girls.

"Not to worry, my dear," the Headmaster said gently, finally looking down to meet her stormy grey eyes. "You won't be treated any differently to the other students," he paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully, perhaps understanding the weight of them in her mind. "However, these gifts can be..._delicate._ They have to be nurtured; you _must_ learn to control it, lest it control you."

It was the same thing McGonagall had said when she'd shown up at the her door in March, and Winona wondered if it was a staple statement they told all new witches and wizards to scare them into conformity.

It certainly sounded terrifying enough to work.

"But the other students don't need to know, do they?" she pressed with just a hint of anxious wariness, gripping at the fabric of her robes.

"Of course not," he calmed her fears immediately, voice regaining that flippancy it had held before. "This stays strictly between the faculty. In fact, I think it would be prudent not to tell _anyone_ of this ability for at least the foreseeable future," he said, and she briefly wondered if that were some kind of terrible attempt at a pun. She couldn't manage a laugh, even if it was.

Nevertheless, she agreed to his words with a nod, and they continued on their way.

Silence stretched on as they moved down the staircase beside one another. "Aren't you scared, Sir?" she asked gently once she couldn't take it any longer, crossing her arms uncomfortably over her chest, hoping she wasn't overstepping. "I drew you...I drew you dead," she said, as though he might need reminding.

Professor Dumbledore didn't answer her. He merely turned his head so he was looking down at her, an odd and mysterious expression creasing his already lined face. "I must ask you a favour, Winona," he began as they came to a stop just outside the doors to the Great Hall, and her eyes widened in surprise at the use of her first name. She hadn't even known he knew it.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked, delicate brows furrowed as she craned her neck up to watch him.

"Any time you have one of these..." he didn't seem to know what to call it, but he finally decided on, "...visions, I want you to come and show me what you draw – _particularly_ if it involves Harry Potter."

She wanted to say no, but she got the feeling that this was incredibly important – particularly by the serious way the Headmaster said so, a steely glint to his electric blue eyes. "Okay," she nodded, reluctant but compliant.

He seemed pleased by her response, bowing his head gratefully. "It is my hope that these classes with Professor Trelawney will allow you to learn how to harness these abilities," he told her quietly, an encouraging note to his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with time and training, you may not have to 'black out', as you say, to predict things," he told her with a trace of a smile.

Her shoulders sagged, both from exhaustion and relief. She couldn't wait to go up to the dormitories and take a long, scolding hot shower. "That would be brilliant, Professor," she told him sincerely. Just _thinking_ about her visions was exhausting enough, let alone actually having them. "In all honesty, it can be quite scary," she revealed, voice quiet and thoughtful as she tried not to allow herself to grow too overwhelmed by the thought of it.

"I can only imagine," he replied, nodding gently before abruptly turning to face the doors of the Great Hall. Winona hadn't even realised they'd arrived until he came to a sudden stop. She blinked at the towering, intricately carved doors, tugging absent-mindedly at the sleeves of her robes. "Well, come now, fill that belly and get some good rest, you meet with your new tutor tomorrow evening," Dumbledore said the words brightly, then flicked his wrist in a casual move. The double doors creaked open, the sound of chatter from inside hitting them suddenly, like a wave.

A few people closest to the doors turned to look at them in curiosity, but mostly they were just ignored.

"I'll owl you with the details of the meeting," he told her softly, ensuring they wouldn't be overheard as he smiled comfortingly. "Pleasant evening," he finished airily before turning and striding through the tables, heading for the teachers sitting together at the end of the massive hall.

She blinked, left feeling somewhat shellshocked from the many events that had taken place in such a short amount of time. It was like everything had changed in only a matter of minutes. Suddenly someone knew her secret; and that person was _Dumbledore. _All she could do was hope she wasn't making a huge mistake and try to move on in this brave new world she'd forged for herself. She waited a few moments, taking the time to collect herself before walking through the doors after the Headmaster.

Everyone was too involved in their conversations to look up at her, and she was relieved that nobody seemed to notice her approach. She scurried right over to the spot between Lee and Angelina, opposite the twins, slipping onto the seat with a sigh of relief.

"Did you just come in with _Dumbledore_?" Fred asked with wide eyes, and Winona winced, apparently not as in the clear as she'd assumed.

"Ran into each other in the hall," she lied without only a minor twinge of guilt, using the excuse of reaching for the potatoes to avoid his eyes.

"Where were you all afternoon?" Angelina asked curiously once she'd swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin juice. "I needed help on my Astronomy homework."

"Sorry," Winona apologised halfheartedly as she spooned herself some carrots. "I was with a friend." There was a long moment of silence that hovered over the group. She looked up in surprise, eyebrows raising when she realised the whole lot of them were staring at her. "What?" she asked self-consciously, hand moving to her cheek as though something might be smudged there. Wouldn't surprise her – she'd been working with watercolours just that morning.

"Winona," Lee began patronisingly, "all of your friends are sitting in this group."

Playing offended, she scoffed at him indignantly. "I have other friends."

"No you don't."

"Not really."

"That's funny."

"I don't even think you know anybody else's name."

Winona glared at her friends, though the expression lacked severity. "Shove a cauldron cake in your gobs," she muttered unhappily. Alicia trilled a laugh while George threw a spoonful of peas in her direction.

So maybe she _didn't_ have a lot of friends, she thought idly, but the ones she_ did_ have were pretty damn great.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed! **

**I know you probably have a lot of questions about Winona's past, but it'll all come out in time. Also, I'll admit, I've struggled with writing in the voice of an eleven-year-old. It might be one of the biggest challenges I've faced writing this story. In the end I decided not to sacrifice my narrative voice for the sake of it. If Winona sound a bit too-grown up for her age, I'd say she's just very mature for a pre-teen.**

**If you're still unconvinced, I can give you a list of child characters with the same level of maturity – starting with one Hermione Granger ;)**

**And remember, while she's mature in _wit_, she's very immature when it comes to _emotion_, something that will drive the story forwards, and get her into quite a lot of trouble, later on. I really hope you like it so far, and feel free to send me any thoughts or questions you might have.**

**See you next time!**


	3. Who're you calling pixie-brains?

**A/N: Hey guys! Already the response to this story has been great, and I'm so happy you seem to like it so far. I'm uploading the chapters surrounding their first few years quickly, just to get the story moving, but after that they'll come a little slower. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Professor Trelawney was insane.

Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh, but she certainly wasn't all _there_ in the head. Winona listened to the Divination teacher prattle on about 'the sight', watching her big arm movements and vacant, misty eyes with a critical gaze. Winona had yet to see her do anything actually practical, but she also figured it could've been worse; there could've been Tarot Cards involved.

Dumbledore stood off to the side, observing their conversation with those intent, intelligent eyes. Finally, after a _long_ time of Trelawney rambling on, she took Winona's hand in her own and peered down at the lines on her palm like there were complex riddles etched into her skin. She observed them for a long time, tracing her fingers over the delicate creases in the skin before humming mildly and gently patting the back of her hand, passing it back to its owner with a filmy-eyed expression.

Unsure what that meant, she watched the accomplished Seer with a hint of caution. "I want you to stare into this crystal ball," Trelawney rasped, placing a glistening crystal orb on the stand in front of her and waving her hands over it like a Muggle magician presenting a trick.

Winona looked over at Dumbledore warily, but the old wizard merely nodded his head with a small, somewhat comforting smile on his lips, telling her without words to go ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Winona leaned forwards and peered halfheartedly into the ball, really not expecting anything. Smoke seemed to whirl around within the crystal, like there was a candle hidden beneath. She stared at it for a long minute, then turned back to Trelawney with a frown. "I don't think it's working," she said, frustrated. What was this meant to accomplish, exactly?

It was hard to work with the pair of them staring at her like an audience waiting for a performing monkey to do a flip through a hoop.

"Focus, young one," the Divination Professor rasped, waving her hands over the orb again in that ridiculous manner that really did no favours for her credibility. "Focus. You must clear your mind, see _into_ the future!"

With a sigh, Winona turned back to her task, resting her hands on the desk in front of her and furrowing her brow as she stared into the ball with everything she had.

"Focus," Trelawney repeated hoarsely. "Clear your mind."

"Isn't that somewhat contradictory?" Winona muttered, more to herself than to either of them. As such, nobody answered her, and she returned her attention back to the stupid orb. She found her mind drifting, but each time brought it back to the smoke in the ball, staring intently, trying to force something to appear in the mist.

_There_!

A flicker, she was sure of it. She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes like it would help.

Nothing.

With a huff she sat back in her chair, tipping her head up to the ceiling. "It isn't working," she complained again, rolling her neck before sitting back in the seat properly. She turned to look at Dumbledore, then-

Nothing. Literally, this time.

Pure black. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She couldn't even feel her mouth to tell if it was moving. Images began to flash, too fast for her to make any sense of. She winced, or at least, she thought she did – she couldn't be sure.

It was like she was being dragged under by an unearthly current, violent and treacherous, yanking her in every direction at once. She couldn't talk, she couldn't breathe, she didn't know which way was up. If she could have found her hands, she would have been trying to claw her way to the surface. Her mind was a hum of frantic noise, sounds that might have made sense if she wasn't being tugged deeper and deeper into the thrashing folds of time.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but sooner or later she was thrust back into the present with the sharp gasp of someone who was drowning finally breaching the surface of the ocean.

The first thing she was aware of was a sharp pain in her fingers. With a start she looked down to see her wrists caught in one of the Headmaster's large hands. He was holding them so tightly that they would likely bruise, and she wasn't looking forward to explaining _that _one to her friends.

Then she noticed the blood. It ran from her nail beds down the length of her fingers, and she whimpered, feeling pain stabbing at the area around her nails, like someone screwing thumbtacks into her fingertips.

"What the _bloody_ hell happened?!" she demanded with unfiltered alarm, switching her gaze to Dumbledore's face only to see a rare look of uneasiness on his aged features, a far cry from his usual knowing twinkle. "Sir?" she asked again when she received no explanation, feeling panic turn her insides to ice.

"My dear!" Trelawney rasped from behind the Headmaster, and Winona leaned around him to peer at her with wild eyes. The Divination professor stared at her in a something she might describe as _rapture._ One hand was pressed to her heart in pure elation, and the entire picture made Winona feel more nauseas than ever before. "You have..._the sight_," she gasped gleefully, like Christmas had come early and she'd been given everything she'd ever wanted.

"That's brilliant," Winona murmured with the utmost sarcasm, the irritation leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Why the _hell_ are my hands bleeding?" she pressed, the bubble of panic swelling within her.

She glanced down again, and suddenly things became slightly more clear. On the desk where she had been sitting, there were large, rough scratches made into the wood. Winona's eyes widened in shock as her eyes flickered from the crudely sketched art to her stinging, bleeding fingers.

"Fucking hell," she cussed without a care for propriety, then looked sharply up at Dumbledore in accusation. "What _happened_?" she asked again, demanding an answer.

"When we didn't give you something to draw with," the Headmaster began slowly. "You..." he trailed off, searching for the right word, "improvised."

Winona sucked in a sharp breath. "That's never happened before," she told him between deep breaths.

"That may be my fault," he told her with a hint of apology, and her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps we pushed you too far too soon," he said with a hum of consideration. "My most sincere apologies; from now on, we will go at a much slower pace."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "I have to do that _again_?"

"We'll take every precaution to make sure this doesn't happen twice," he assured her, but to her, it sounded like there was a whole lot of uncertainty in the answer, and it only strengthened the panicked uneasiness in her gut.

She noticed he continued to hold her hands, but didn't comment, instead looking beyond her bleeding digits to the vandalised desk, trying to see what she'd scratched into the surface. It was only half complete, but from what she could tell it was merely a scoreboard, identical to the one they used at the Quidditch Pitch during matches.

Fucking _great,_ she'd done that to herself, and it wasn't even for anything _important._

Her eyes stung, but she bit her tongue hard enough that she tasted blood, successfully stopping the tears from coming. "Are you okay, Miss Andrews?" Dumbledore asked her in concern. She didn't meet his eyes as she nodded. He finally let go of her wrists. They ached where he'd held them, his grip like a vice, surprisingly strong for a man so elderly. "You must go and see Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, sir."

"I need to talk to Professor Trelawney for a moment, I trust you can get there yourself?" he asked, and she once more nodded her head, uncaring that strands of blonde hair fell into her face. She wasn't sure it was very good procedure, leaving a scared, injured eleven year old girl to wander about the castle on her own, but she wasn't about to argue and have him _actually _take her to the Hospital Wing, which she had no intentions of going anywhere _near._

She picked her bag up gingerly, threading the strap onto her shoulder and holding her stinging hands out in front of her awkwardly, trying not to jostle them too much.

"Winona," Dumbledore called out when she was in the doorway. She paused, turning back to the Headmaster. "I'm sorry," he told her once more, this time with a hint more sincerity than before, but she still didn't respond, just turning away before he could say anything more.

The _last_ place she was going to go was to the Hospital Wing, and she rushed away from the North Tower, shoving her hands into her pockets so they wouldn't be seen by passing students. She figured she could run her fingers under the water in the sink in her dormitory bathroom like Fred had done that one time, and that would be enough; at least, she hoped it would.

It was five minutes to curfew by the time she got to the Tower. "Polyjuice," she barked at the Fat Lady, who rolled her eyes but opened the portrait hole anyway. It was difficult to clamour through with her hands shoved into her pockets, but she managed, and once she was steady on her feet again she shuffled into the common room, heading directly for the stairs to her dormitory.

"Win!" a familiar pair of voices called out from the couches near the fire, but she ignored them, hoping they would think she hadn't heard them. She cursed the stars when a hand gripped her elbow, tugging her hand free from her pocket and exposing her bloodied fingers as a pained cry tore from her lips.

Thankfully nobody else was paying them a lick of attention, Fred being the only one to notice her bloodstained fingers. "Merlin," he breathed, still holding her arm, grip tightening as he stared at the injury with a deep frown.

"I prefer to go by Winona," she said as strongly as she could manage, and his cerulean blue eyes were wide when they met hers.

"This time you _have_ to go to see Pomfrey," he whispered.

"I think you underestimate just how stubborn I can be," she told him, chin tilted up defiantly. The only way he was getting her into a hospital bed was if he knocked her out and levitated her there himself.

He hesitated, but a moment later there was a sort of spark to his eyes that seemed to appear from nowhere. "Come on," he rolled his eyes, still gripping her elbow as he turned and tugged her over to the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory.

"What are you doing?" she asked worriedly, eyeing the stairs like they would bite. "I can't go up there."

"Yeah, you can," he told her with another eye roll. "That slide thing only works for boys on the girls' stairs," he paused to look back at her with a smirk. "We tested it."

She allowed him to tug her up the stairs, awkwardly looking away when a third year they passed on the stairs wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively. Fred led her through a door much like the girls' dorm, the front reading _first years_.

It was a pigsty, but Winona wasn't surprised. Besides, it wasn't like _she_ could comment; the other girls in her dormitory were constantly nagging her about cleaning up after herself (she had a terrible habit of leaving clothes on the floor and they were always finding pencils in odd places around the room).

He didn't pause, not even when Lee jumped about a foot in the air when he noticed her, halfway through changing his clothes, and gave an indignant cry. She rolled her eyes, like seeing him half-dressed was such a big deal? Still, she averted her eyes for his sake, looking back at Fred as he tugged her into the bathroom.

As he closed the door behind them, she took a moment to look around the room. It was much like the girls', except dirtier and lacking all the various cosmetics that covered their countertops.

He moved her over to the sink, turning on the water so it was warm, then guiding her hands under the stream.

"Why is it you're always covered in blood?" he murmured as he worked, a smirk on his face.

She had a strange, abrupt feeling of deja vu, like this was something that had been said before. She couldn't remember though, but a sudden thought struck her; what if it was something that was _going _to be said, one day in the future?

The idea made her shudder.

She didn't reply to Fred's comment, merely huffing and trying not to wince from the pain stabbing at her torn fingernails. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?" he asked playfully, which surprised her; she'd been expecting annoyance, or at the very least, persistent curiosity.

"No," she answered him, deciding to attempt the route of omission, as opposed to forming some kind of terrible, unconvincing lie.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, and she smothered a smile before suddenly hissing in pain when his fingers ran over where she was missing a fingernail. "Bloody hell, though," he said as he surveyed the damage. "Did you go twelve rounds with a troll?"

She shot him a small, surprised smile at the flare of amusement his comment made her feel. "That's much better than the actual story," she admitted playfully. "Let's go with that."

"I'll start spreading the rumour first thing in the morning," he assured her with an easy grin. He disappeared back through the door for a moment returning a moment later with the old shirt he'd torn apart the last time he'd had to patch her up. He ripped a few smaller pieces from the bottom, wrapping them around her fingertips and tying them off clumsily. "There we go," he declared once he was finished. "All done."

"Thank you, Fred," she told him sincerely, and he grinned back, waving off her thanks like it wasn't necessary. "We're making a habit of this," she said, attempting a small grin.

"Maybe stop getting injured and we'll break the habit," he replied, but there was a hint of a grin on his lips that softened the bluntness of his statement.

She wanted to tell him she was glad they were friends, but she couldn't force herself to be that sappy, so she merely smiled back before moving over to the door and pulling it open.

"Oh good, you have a shirt on this time," she said to Lee slyly, who was sitting on his bed and scribbling something on a piece of parchment. He scoffed and sent her a halfhearted glare which she laughed off with ease. "Sleep well, boys," she called, turning around to shoot Fred one more thankful smile, eyes bright with her sincerity, before disappearing out the door.

* * *

Before she knew it, it was only weeks until the end of the term, and thus the end of her first year at Hogwarts.

Nothing much had changed. McGonagall was still strict and gave them way too much homework; Snape was still an ugly, unfair arsehole; Trelawney still proved to be more and more batshit-crazy at every one of their pointless and stressful weekly meetings; and Dumbledore remained kind but oddly removed from everything she told him, which wasn't much, considering her severe lack of visions as of late.

It was as though Trelawney's private lessons were more of a hindrance than a help, all things considered. More often than not, she walked away with a headache and more questions than she'd had when she'd walked in.

Things in her social life had, in comparison, evolved a lot, largely in part to the twins.

She'd started the year off having few friends to name, and absolutely _no_ idea what she was doing in general. Now, she had more friends than she knew what to do with, and had a _bit_ more of an idea what was happening around her.

Alicia, as tough as she was, could also be rather soft. She liked to organise 'sleepover' nights – which was kind of pointless, because they all lived in a dorm together, so technically _every _night was a sleepover night, but Winona appreciated the gesture nonetheless. They would take turns painting each others toes, then mostly talk about Quidditch, homework, and how much they hated Snape.

Angelina was kind of a tom-boy, but mostly she just loved her studies. She was always on the others' backs to get them to study with her, but none of them spared much care for the activity. She was nice, and rather blunt at times, not unlike Winona herself. She was slightly more socially aware, however, which was probably for the best.

Hope liked to keep to herself, closer with her friends in Ravenclaw than the three of them, but they made an effort to include her anyway, and the mousy-haired girl seemed to appreciate it.

Lee was a riot, and they bonded over their shared sweet tooth. Sometimes he roped her into playing Wizard's Chess with him. Neither were very good, so it became mainly about cheering on their pieces when they smashed one another to bits. He was funny, and she was glad he was there to share a chocolate frog with while they begrudgingly scribbled down filler words into their Transfiguration essays in the hope to gain an extra inch.

Fred and George, however, were by far her favourite people to spend time with.

Maybe this was a bad thing to admit – she should have enjoyed all her friends equally, and she _did_, really, but she couldn't help but admit that something about being with the twins was _easier _than it was with the others.

She didn't feel the need to stay a hundred percent focused on what was happening, they seemed to understand that her mind didn't work like theirs; that it ebbed and flowed with the unpredictability of the sea, and sometimes she faded away, thoughts lost in a swirl of colour as she tugged her sketchbook free from her ever-present bag and got to work, letting the twins' chattering fade into the background.

And they were always there when she came back to earth, grinning and pestering her about getting the 'honour' of seeing the work before anyone else, or maybe nagging her about making up a new signature ("what's the point of having a signature if people can't even _read_ what it _says_, Win?!").

Her favourite thing about them, though, was how they made her laugh. Their jokes flowed seamlessly, a strange sort of mix between sarcasm and mocking absurdism that had her in stitches. Their brilliant pranks never failed to bring a smile to her face, even _if_ half the time the round of laughter was almost immediately followed by a round of detention.

She was content, and happier than she could ever remember being. She'd never known what it was like to have such a large group of people to spend time with. She'd grown up with no one – literally. It had just been her dealing with the crushing weight of being alone, trying and failing to make her own fun.

So when the school year wound down to a close, she found herself feeling rather depressed. She would miss her new friends, and her new school and the wonderful, amazing, beautiful magic that seemed to hum from within its very walls.

She didn't want to go back to being alone, didn't want to have nobody to talk to or laugh with. What was worse, she didn't want to go back to some stranger's house where she'd be shouted at and struck for forgetting to rinse out her cereal bowl. The thought scared her, like she'd been somehow lulled into a false sense of security.

It didn't matter how wonderful things were at school, she still had to return to the pits of hell. It was like she always said: nothing good ever lasts.

She sat propped on a comfortable chair in the common room on their second last Saturday of the year, sketching – as always – in one of her used books, trying to get Angelina's hair _just_ right from where she could see her playing exploding snap with a second year.

"What a surprise," a familiar voice chimed, appearing at her left.

"This is a sight you don't see every day," a similar one added, materialising on her right.

The Weasley twins propped themselves up on either arm of Winona's chair, grinning down at her widely. "You should really draw more often," George continued.

"Yeah, we almost never see you with a pencil in your hand," Fred joked.

Winona rolled her eyes. "What do you two want now?"

"That's no way to treat your best friends," George goaded.

"Oh, is Alicia here?" she countered, scanning the room teasingly. The twins held their hands over their hearts in playful indignation, but all of them knew she was full of it. "What can I do for you boys?" she asked, reluctantly pulling her attention away from her sketch.

"Just wanted to know what you're up to this summer," Fred said, shifting on the arm of the couch so he could face her properly.

The question made her insides freeze, and she struggled to keep fear from showing on her face. "Nothing really," she said, aiming for nonchalant.

She'd managed to avoid talking about her home life beyond that first meeting on the train. As curious as the twins could be, they'd been surprisingly respectful of her privacy, asking her nothing she wasn't completely comfortable answering.

"Are you pretend-parents looking forward to having you back?" George asked her conversationally.

Fred promptly slapped his brother on the shoulder. "_Foster_-parents," he corrected him tightly.

Winona was careful not to react. "They're probably not," she told them, playing it off cool with a roguish grin that fell a little flat. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth, remember?" she asked jokingly.

George laughed, but Fred frowned. It was rare to see them with opposing reactions to the same situation. Just to be safe, she avoided looking at him at all. "We were thinking that maybe you could come to the Burrow!" said George enthusiastically.

Her brow pulled down into a frown. "And the Burrow is...?"

"Our house."

"You call your house the Burrow?" she asked bewilderedly. "Why?"

The twins were momentarily rendered speechless. "A play on the name Weasley, I s'pose," said George even as he frowned, seeming to rethink all he'd ever known. Winona couldn't help but smirk at the lost expression on his face.

"So, what say you, Win?" Fred asked, not quite _un_enthusiastic, but rather holding that same glimmer of concern. He knew something was up – he was too observant for his own good. "Wanna come spend a few days at our place?" he offered hopefully.

She wasn't sure how she'd work it, but any time away from her foster parents sounded like a bloody dream come true. "Your parents won't mind?" she asked warily.

"Mum'll be thrilled," George told her with an easy grin. "She thinks you're a good influence on us."

That gave her pause. "She knows about me?"

"Of course," the twins said simply, like it went without saying. "Told her you were keeping us in line," Fred continued through a mischievous smirk. "Complete and utter shite of course; on a good day, you're just as terrible as we are."

"Only since I met you pixie-brains," she responded cheerfully.

"Who're you calling pixie-brains?" George asked indignantly. Winona could only laugh at his dramatics.

She was going to reply, but Angelina called out for him, and he abruptly wandered away to see what she and her small group wanted. "Wanna sneak down to the kitchens?" Fred asked Winona eagerly, a wicked glint to his eyes that usually meant trouble.

They'd done this several times since becoming friends, and it was one of her favourite things to do. The twins had introduced her to the House Elves (she hadn't even known they existed, but she'd quickly fallen in love with them). They had a special supply of apple pie that they would give her when she came, because they had figured out it was her favourite.

She'd never been down there with just one of the twins, however, and for a moment it felt so strange that she frowned. But then the expression cleared and she decided time with Fred would be nice, and a break from the rowdy common room would be even better.

The kitchen was bustling when the pair arrived, but a small band of merry elves shuffled over, beaming up at them excitedly, eager to get them whatever they desired.

"Mr Weasley," one elf squeaked, small with more of a green tinge to his skin than any other, his large ears wobbling as he shook with anticipation for a job. "Missus Andrews," he continued brightly when he saw her standing there. Winona giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth and not bothering to correct the adorable little thing. "What can Rokka get Mister Weasley and Missus Andrews?" he asked eagerly. "Apple pie with ice cream?"

"Just a pumpkin juice this time, thank you," Winona told him gently, adjusting the strap of her bag.

"Don't want to spoil your supper?" Fred asked and she nodded, rolling her eyes when he told the House Elf he'd take him up on that offer. "Cherries on top, too – if you would, Rokka."

The little elf squealed in pure elation at being given a task, scurrying away before either of them could say anything else.

The two Gryffindors grinned at each other, taking seats at one of the massive tables lining the room. "How'd you do on your Potions exam?" Fred asked curiously, snatching one of the bread rolls already on the table and taking a bite from it.

"I'm hoping for at _least_ a pass," she admitted. "But I'll have to be pretty lucky."

"Was the smoke of your boil treatment pink?"

Winona winced. "More of a dull yellow..."

Fred laughed, and she have a playful huff, turning around to face the bustling elves. "Hey, Win?" began Fred, and she looked away from the cauldron of soup in the corner to blink at him curiously. "Can I ask you something?"

Distracted by the small plate of sliced peaches put out for them to eat, Winona nodded distantly.

"Why don't you want to go home?" he asked. She went still, turning her head to stare at him carefully. He was staring back, eyes open and filled with such an innocent curiosity that Winona couldn't hate him for. "Don't you get on with your foster-parents?" he pressed, hitting the nail on the head.

Wincing, Winona weighed her options. She could lie, tell him yes and move on...but the thing was, she was so _sick_ of lying.

"I don't really think of them as family," she revealed, tracing invisible shapes onto the polished wood of the table. She didn't dare look up to see his reaction. "They give me somewhere safe and warm to sleep, and provide the basic things I need to live, but beyond that…" she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it in a way he'd understand. "I'm just an orphan. That's what I am."

Fred was silent long enough that her heart began to race. "An orphan?" he finally echoed her, a note to his voice she couldn't quite place.

"That's me," she nodded, still tracing lines onto the tabletop, "little Orphan Annie."

Fred hesitated again. "But your name's Winona," he sounded hilariously confused.

Winona laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical, but Fred would take what he could get, even if he didn't understand the joke he'd made. "They're not that bad; I've had worse foster homes in the past. At least these ones don't keep the food in a locked cabinet," she admitted once she'd sobered.

Fred's brow was pulled down in a frown, and he watched her nails drag lightly over the tabletop. "What're their names?" he asked curiously.

That gave her pause. "Huh?"

"Your foster parents. What're their names?"

It was a strange question, but Fred was a strange guy, so it wasn't exactly out of character. "Steven and Denise Klein."

Fred was still struggling to make it all make sense in his brain. "But why do they have you, if they don't even treat you like family?" he wondered, as if he'd never heard anything more preposterous.

"The government gives them money to let me stay," she shrugged. "It's really not so bad – it's just not…" she wasn't sure how to put it.

"Not what?" he pressed, not prying, but rather concerned. It was odd to see her best friend so serious, but she was beginning to learn that not everything in the world was a joke to Fred Weasley – not when it came to the people who truly mattered.

"Not warm," she finally said, finally finding the right word. "Hogwarts, with all its food and fireplaces; teachers who seem to actually care; all my new friends; this is _warm. _Back at the Klein's place it's just cold, and…and lonely," she confessed quietly.

Fred processed this information quietly. Winona tried not to think the worst. She didn't want him to look at her with pity. She just wanted to be like any other friend; not a charity case for him to work on.

"Sorry," he finally said, and Winona wanted to laugh again at how lame it felt, but she held back, still tracing stars into the tabletop as a way to ignore his eyes. She shrugged again, and the silence dragged on for another minute. "Well, that settles it then," he eventually declared. "You're coming to stay at the Burrow over the Summer."

The fact that he still wanted her to come was the most relieving part. "I'll talk to them," she told him, meeting his eyes with a hesitant smile. She hadn't expected to be so wholly accepted. It warmed her from her hair to her toes, and she smiled even wider at her friend.

There was a bang from across the room as one of the House Elves dropped a saucepan, and her attention was split, so it wasn't until Fred spoke that she realised what had happened. "Hey, Win...?" Fred said again, his tone alarming her. She spun back around to face him, and her stormy eyes widened when she saw what he held in his hands.

Her sketchbook must have tipped out of her bag when she'd swung around, and it had landed on the stone floor, one of her sketches facing upwards.

To her horror, it was one of her 'blackout' sketches, the little star in the corner marking its significance. Although she hoped beyond all hope that the sketch would mean nothing to him, she could tell by the expression on his freckled face that it most certainly did.

She snatched it back desperately, glancing at the image before holding it against her chest. It was that _'Marauders Map'_ sketch she'd done months ago, the words spilling across the page like ink, little footsteps scattered over the parchment in what had to be a random order and the words '_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good...' _reading along the bottom.

"Just something I'm working on," she lied, forcing what she hoped was a casual laugh.

Fred didn't look amused, an uncharacteristic frown on his lips and suspicion in his eyes that made her chest ache. "How do you know about the map?" he asked seriously, no trace of lightheartedness in his voice.

She struggled to find a good answer, a bolt of panic stabbing through her gut. Would he call her a freak? Would he not want to be friends with her once he knew the truth? Worse still, would he tell everyone? Spread it around school like some nasty rumour, alienating her from the entire student body?

"Winona?" Fred prompted her, crease between his brows deepening.

She knew that, out of everyone in the school, there was nobody she'd rather tell than the twins. Keeping the secret of her ability, it was weighing her down. The only person she could talk to about it was Dumbledore, but he wasn't exactly one of her everyday mates.

She knew the Headmaster had told her not to tell anyone, but Fred had found out by accident, and after all, wasn't it better to tell the truth than to just let him wildly speculate?

She took a deep breath, lip quivering as she sucked the air in, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and said, "...I can draw the future."

Fred said nothing for a full, entire minute, and the longer the heavy silence dragged on, the more ill Winona began to feel.

The red haired twin stared at her with calculating, curious blue eyes. "You can draw the future?" he finally repeated, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of her words. "You mean, you're a Seer?" he continued on enthusiastically, not giving her a chance to respond. "So, you know all about the map?!"

She took another breath, trying to understand the odd reaction. "I – um, I can only draw it, I don't know what the sketches mean...at least, not until they happen," she admitted quietly, watching him carefully.

"Have you always been able to do it?" he asked eagerly, something like awe in his lit-up eyes.

"Not always," she answered, still unsure about his odd response – though she admitted it wasn't _completely _out of character; the Weasley twins were always surprising her, why should Fred's reaction to her oddity be an exception? "I didn't learn, though – it just..._happened_."

"Merlin, this is wicked," he beamed uncontrollably, blue eyes alight with excitement. "I have to tell George!"

For a heartbeat she considered telling him he couldn't, that he wasn't allowed to share this with his brother – but Winona knew better than to waste her breath; Fred would be telling George whether he had her approval or not.

"Okay," she allowed with a small frown, still feeling somewhat gobsmacked from the whole exchange, her world twisted on its side in an instant. "But nobody else – _only_ George."

"You have my word, oh-great-and-powerful Seer," he told her with a cheeky grin.

When she'd first realised she had this ability, the last way she expected anyone to react was with a mirthful joke, though she found it didn't bother her but instead made her feel almost...normal. She couldn't help the amused – and somewhat relieved – smile that flickered at her lips.

"You never used to do that, y'know?" he said suddenly, and she looked up at him in clear confusion. "Smile," he elaborated. "In our first few months here, George and I used to do everything we could to get you to smile. Now look at you, grinning away. I'd say a bit of Weasley was all the medicine you needed."

Groaning at his terrible joke, Winona rubbed her hands over her face. "Never say that last part ever again," she advised him, but he only kept grinning, clearly proud of himself. "I guess you've just worn me down, Fred," she added with a long-suffering sigh.

The two friends lapsed into silence, Winona still trying to process everything that had just occurred, while Fred appeared thoughtful, chewing on his treat, the ice cream smeared on his chin getting wiped off with the back of his hand.

"You could tell us who'll win Quidditch matches!" he suddenly exclaimed, blue eyes bright with the possibilities. "We'll make a _fortune_!"

Winona paused, a frown tugging at her lips. "It doesn't really work that way. I can't control it. I don't get to choose what I see."

Fred mirrored her disappointment. "Maybe if you practise?" he suggested hopefully.

"Well..." she hesitated, wondering if she was allowed to tell him what she wanted to, before deciding that she didn't really _care_ if Dumbledore got angry with her for it – it was _her_ secret to tell, and she could share it with anyone she bloody well pleased. "I'm actually having lessons with the Divination professor once a week," she admitted, tracing her nails over the cover of her sketchbook. "She's teaching me, but I still have a _long _way to go."

Fred looked contemplative again, finishing up his food before leaping to his feet and heading for the door. "Come on_,_" he frowned at her impatiently, like she was being an inconvenience by not moving. "We've _got_ to go get George!"

Winona was quick to gather her things, hurriedly rushing after her friend, following him out of the pleasantly warm kitchens and into the cooler halls. His legs were longer than hers, and she had to jog to keep up with his fast pace. "So what's this map thing, anyway?" she couldn't help but ask. Most of her 'predictions' remained a mystery, it would be nice to have one explained for once.

"Can't tell you."

Winona huffed with indignation, even going so far as to stop walking, making Fred pause with one foot on the first step of the staircase when he realised she was no longer following him. "You _can't tell me_?" she asked, chin tilting up and eyes narrowed, clearly miffed. "After what I just told you?"

Fred had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Not that I can _never_ tell you," he amended, hands held out placatingly. "I just wanna make sure George is on board before I do – which I'm sure he will be!" he was quick to add when he noticed her growing glower. He'd seen her punch before, he knew she could break his nose easily, and he didn't really fancy that ever happening.

She wanted to argue, but she knew how close the twins were – they practically shared a brain – it made sense that he wouldn't want to give away what was _clearly_ a secret without his brother's okay. "Fine," she allowed, crossing her arms over her chest and starting forward again, the soles of her beaten up chucks slapping the stone quietly.

"Maybe you can predict whether or not Carroll will end up sweeping the floors at the Leaky Cauldron," he joked with a grin, quickly following her up the stairs, heading towards the common room.

Winona rolled her eyes fondly, a smile tugging at her mouth. "Maybe."

George was easy enough to get out of the tower, and since it was still early (the sun still far from dropping below the horizon), they headed out into the courtyard, stepping around some rowdy sixth years and making their way over to one of the benches.

Fred spoke with George in hushed tones, keeping a few paces ahead of the young Seer, glancing back at her every few moments. She wasn't offended, they did this more often than not, though she couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy, knowing this time they were talking about her.

She took a seat on the bench, folding her legs up underneath her as she so often did, tugging at the sleeves of her ratty old sweater. Finally the twins paused their whispering, turning to face her with blank expressions on their usually-bright faces.

"You can see the future?" George was the one to ask, clearly believing his brother, though there was still a small, lingering skepticism in his bright blue eyes. "You know about the Map?"

"What _is_ this bloody Map?" she demanded hotly.

George frowned. "You're not a very _good_ Seer, are you?"

Winona scowled, less than pleased by his comment. George broke out in a wide, cheesy grin, reaching out to bump her fondly in the shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?!" he asked brightly, taking a seat on the bench beside her and beaming merrily.

"Dumbledore asked me not to tell anyone," she admitted softly, cheeks a soft pink. "Also, I guess I was kind of afraid you would...I dunno...think I was weird, or something."

"Why would we think that?" he asked, sounding genuinely befuddled.

"Even by Wizarding standards, drawing the future is odd."

"Winona, I say this with the utmost respect and affection," George said seriously, and she looked up from where she'd been staring sheepishly at her folded hands, fixing her stormy grey eyes on him, watching as he stared back imploringly. "You're. An. Idiot."

Confused, Winona's features scrunched up in bewilderment.

"Why would you ever think we'd think this was anything other than cool?!" he asked jovially, and from above them, Fred was grinning with all the brilliance of the sun.

Relieved beyond words, Winona's shoulders sagged as if a massive weight had just been removed, and she sighed to herself. "You're right," she said, glancing back up, smiling up at them gratefully. When they'd first met she couldn't have imagined them ending up friends_, _let alone _best friends_, even despite their sure declaration that they would be just that. "You guys are the best," she told them sincerely, and they brushed imaginary lint off their shoulders in mock modesty.

Something occurred to her.

"You can't tell anybody," she said quietly, glancing across the courtyard at a group of older kids who were tossing Every Flavour Beans into the air and catching them in their mouths. "Not _anyone._"

"Why?" George didn't seem to understand.

"Dumbledore says it could be dangerous," she replied, casting a glance up at the castle as though she might be able to see Dumbledore through the thick layers of stone, staring down at her in warning. "That if people knew, they might try to hurt me for it."

She didn't quite understand why that was; why would anyone try and hurt her just because she could occasionally predict the future? If somebody wanted to know their fortune so desperately, why wouldn't they just _ask_ her?

She looked back at the twins, both of whom were eyeing one another, concern twisting at their mouths. "Promise me," she pleaded, needing reassurance that her secret was in safe hands.

As one they nodded, smiles spreading across their freckled faces. "We promise," they swore, and she sighed, comforted by their endless acceptance and friendship.

George yanked a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, holding it up with a grin. "Here it is, then," he said proudly, handing it over to her like it were something precious. "Been trying to crack it for months, and _you_ do it in a single drawing," he scoffed, but the sound wasn't bitter.

"What?" she asked, confused as she held the parchment gingerly.

"It's the Map," Fred said like it were obvious. "It says _Marauder's Map _on the front, but that's all we've been able to get out of it. But we think you cracked it!"

"Cracked what?"

"The password!" he huffed, exasperated. She only stared. "Get out your sketchbook. Look at the page with the Map on it."

Still confused but knowing better than to bother arguing, Winona fished out her sketchbook, flipping to the right page. As her eyes scanned it, suddenly what the twins were saying made sense. She passed the book over to a curious looking George and pulled her wand from her pocket. She let it hover over the blank parchment, then uttered the words she'd unknowingly transcribed into her book.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

Just like in her drawing, ink dots appeared on the page, slowly spreading out until they formed clear corridors and tiny little sets of shoe prints. Eyes wide, Winona looked up at the twins bent over to get a good look, and together they eagerly discovered the secrets of _The Marauder's Map_.

* * *

Leaving Hogwarts was almost painful, Winona found when it was time for them to take the magically-pulled carriages back to Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express waited to take them all back to London.

She leaned half out of the carriage door, staring up at the castle wistfully, missing it dearly already. "We'll be back in a few months," Lee assured her with a laugh, dragging her back into the carriage just as a large tree branch passed by where her head had been moments ago. She smiled at him gratefully and pulled her legs up underneath her.

The station was busy when the arrived, and they raced to secure a compartment all to themselves. They found one near the back and settled in. Alicia, Lee and Angelina began to talk about their summer plans, and Winona turned to the twins as she pulled out three Sugar Quills, handing them one each before settling back on the bench for the journey.

"Can you believe Professor Burbank got caught running that illegal duelling ring in Hogsmeade?" George asked conversationally as the train pulled away from the station, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Winona tried not to think about how it felt oddly like she were leaving home – and how, maybe, it wasn't so _odd_ at all.

"Heard he was sentenced to a year in Azkaban!" Fred added in a gossipy tone.

"Well, you know what they say about the Defence position at Hogwarts," Winona said, pulling away from her Sugar Quill long enough to talk.

"That it's _cursed_?" George asked in a crooning sort of voice, wiggling his fingers at her playfully.

"Stranger things have happened," she hummed, finding it hard to believe that a _wizard_ didn't believe in _curses._ "Wonder who we'll get next year?" she pondered aloud. "Burbank, as illegal as some of his activities may have been, was an okay teacher."

"I'm sure it'll be someone good," Fred said, "Dumbledore would only choose the best. So, when do you think you'll be coming to our place?" he asked quickly, hopeful. Winona got the feeling he didn't like the thought of her alone with her foster parents all summer. It made her insides bloom with warm.

"I dunno," she shrugged, acting like it wasn't the thing she was most looking forward to in the whole world.

"Thanks for the invite, guys!" Lee chirped sarcastically from where he sat beside Fred. The twins rolled their eyes, playing annoyed.

"Of course you're invited, Lee," Winona told him, even though it wasn't her house and she had no authority to extend such an offer. "_Isn't he_, you two?" she hissed at the twins, who quickly nodded their heads, probably just worried she'd kick them again.

Lee chuckled. "It's fine, I'm going to be in Brussels for most of the summer anyway."

George snorted. "Why would you want to go to _Brussels_?" he asked with a tone of disgust, and despite herself, Winona laughed.

"I've got family there, you git," Lee replied tartly, but even he couldn't quite hide the upward quirk of his lips.

Angelina and Alicia turned to Winona, sucking her into a conversation about keeping in touch over the holidays, and Winona grinned through it, soaking up the time with her friends – the first _real _friends she'd ever made – before she'd have nothing but letters to speak with them through.

It ended far too quickly; Winona seemed to only blink once and the Hogwarts Express was pulling into King's Cross with a toot of its horn.

"I'll see you lot soon?" she asked as they all stood up, her friends murmuring agreements and warm farewells before they parted ways, heading off to where their families waited. Only Fred and George remained behind, pausing next to the train while Winona hopped off and dragged her things onto the platform after her.

"Any final words of wisdom before we part ways?" George asked cheerfully.

She pretended to think for a moment. "Be good," she finally said primly.

The twins snorted. "Be realistic," Fred tutted, and she laughed.

"I'll see you soon!" she promised them. They called out matching farewells and with a final grin, Winona turned and hurried towards the barrier, stepping through and into the bland, ordinary Muggle world once again. Already she was counting the minutes until she could step back into her world of magic, the only place she'd ever felt like she'd belonged.

* * *

**A/N: A tiny bit shorter than the last one, but I hope you liked it. As I said above, I'm really glossing over the events of Winona's first two years at Hogwarts, as nothing particularly thrilling happens other than her forming friendships with the gang, coming into her abilities as a Seer, and learning more about the Wizarding world. I'm really just laying the groundwork for the _real_ story, which begins once Harry arrives at Hogwarts.**

**I would also like to quickly add that the sly comment on Brussels was written ages ago, and since writing it I have actually _been_ there, and it's seriously so incredibly beautiful, one of the most stunning places I've ever been! If you ever have the opportunity to go, do it. You won't regret it!**

**Leave me a review and let me know your thoughts – I'd be super grateful. And thanks to those who have reviewed already. Your kind words meant the world, and I'm writing this for you!**


	4. I could use all the help I can get

Winona lasted half the summer with the Klein's, but by the time the end of July was coming round, she knew she had to get outta there. The twins' offer was too irresistible to ignore. How could she stay locked up in her broom-cupboard of a bedroom when the twins were writing to her every other day inviting her to come stay with them.

She'd tried to stay away. Really, she had, but things between her and Mr. Klein had escalated. She wasn't a particularly mild-mannered person to begin – having gotten in her fair share of fights over the years – but when Mr. Klein thoughtlessly pushed her over the edge and into a screaming match to rival Peeves and McGonagall; well, she just knew it was time to get the hell outta dodge.

She'd been planning to head to the Burrow sometime in August, but plans quickly changed. Gathering up all her things in a furious rush, Winona stuffed it all deep down into her trunk and stormed from the house.

She'd never caught the knight bus before, but she'd gotten a crash course in the basics of how it worked from the twins over owl, and so standing on the curb she nervously stuck out her wand. She was only waiting a total of three seconds before a massive triple-decker bus seemed to materialise in front of her, its paint-job a gleaming purple.

The Conductor stepped off, dressed in a suit too big for his thin, bony body, and he grinned down at her with bad teeth and even worse skin. "Good evening," he said in a thick accent, clearly from somewhere up North. "My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening."

Winona wasn't the type to get scared, in fact she prided herself on the fact, but something about this guy just rubbed her the wrong way.

"Let me get your bag, darling," he said in an attempt to sound smooth, but completely failed. Still, she let him pick up her trunk and bring it onto the bus. "Where're you headed?" he asked once they were inside.

She relayed the Weasley's address from memory and he grinned, pounding on the pane of glass separating them from the driver. As the bus took off, Winona let out a yelp as she hurried to grab ahold of the railing. It was _fast._

"That'll be twelve Sickles," said Shunpike, holding out a hand expectantly.

Ah. Money. Right.

She definitely had no Wizarding currency on her, but as she rooted around in her pocket she was able to produce about two pounds in change. "I've only got Muggle money," she said apologetically, wincing at the thought of being kicked off this far from the Burrow.

Shunpike's expression scrunched, and his beady eyes swept her up and down. Uncomfortable, Winona crossed her arms over her chest. She'd thought she was developing rather nicely – and apparently, so did Shunpike.

"I'll tell you what," he said slyly. "I'll wave the fee – just this once – for such a pretty little thing as you."

Winona threw up a little in her mouth. She was only twelve, and this guy looked to be at _least_ seventeen. On top of that, he was downright vile. But she knew how to play her audience, she'd been doing it her whole life, and so she smiled at him as sweetly as she could manage.

"Thank you so much."

"What's your name, then, darling?" he asked, biting at his nails absently, still watching her. She didn't like his eyes on her, they made her feel dirty.

She didn't particularly want to tell him her name, but she couldn't find a way out of it. Besides, despite how creepy he seemed, he _was _still letting her ride for free. "Winona," she told him, the thought of him saying her nickname making her want to hurl.

"Winona," he repeated lowly, and she was wrong. Even him saying her _full_ name made her want to hurl. "Pretty name for a pretty bird."

"...Thanks."

"You go to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah," she nodded, leaning away when he not-so-subtly leaned forwards. "Second year."

He didn't even blink at her young age, and it only made her hate him more. "That McGonagall's a right bitch, in't she?" he asked conversationally.

Anger burned white hot within her, but even she wasn't stupid enough to punch her only way of getting to the Burrow. Awkward and holding back impressive violence, Winona made idle chit chat with him as they made their way out of London at speeds too fast for her to track.

"How much longer to my stop?" she asked Shunpike in her most saccharine voice.

"'Bout two minutes," he replied flippantly. Relief filled her, and she smiled a little more genuinely. "You got a boyfriend?" asked Shunpike abruptly, and just like that the smile was gone.

"Yeah," she lied instantly. "That's who I'm going to go see now. Spending the rest of the summer with his family before we go back to school."

"Sure..." said the older teenager, like he didn't believe a word out of her mouth. "What's his name?" he asked in an attempt to trip her up.

"Fred," she said without so much as a flinch.

"Fred," he repeated skeptically. Okay, so it was a bad name to pick for the situation she was in. It definitely sounded like something generic she'd come up with on the spot.

"Well, I'd better get my things together," she said awkwardly, struggling to stand to her feet with the violent rocking of the bus.

"Let me help," he said, moving closer, and she would have had to have been blind to miss the way he took the opportunity to glance down the front of her top. Nearly throwing up again, Winona could only force a wooden smile onto her lips and thank him thinly.

The bus came to a sudden, jerky stop, and Winona let out a small grunt as she slammed into the window with the inertia.

"Alright there, Winona?" Shunpike asked, reaching out to help her to her feet. She tried her hardest not to flinch away. She gave another waning smile, taking her things from him and moving to step away. "Door, Ernie," he ordered, and the door opened with a low creak.

Glad to be out of the bus and away from Shunpike's foul odour, Winona stumbled from the stairs, her shoes sinking into the damp earth.

"Maybe I can owl you sometime, Winona," said Shunpike's hopefully, chancing another glance down at her chest when he thought she couldn't see.

"Win?!" a familiar voice called out, and she turned in time to see the twins barrelling in their direction just before one of them slammed into her. Yelping as she was hefted off the ground, she held on tightly, grinning to herself. Fred put her down, slinging an arm over her shoulder.

Shunpike cleared his throat, and acting from instinct Winona threaded her arms around Fred's waist, hugging him back before pushing herself up onto her toes to brush her lips against the smooth skin of his cheek. Fred's eyes were almost comically wide, and from behind them George let out a loud guffaw.

"Thanks for all your help, Stan," she said as sweetly as she could manage, snuggling into Fred's side like she belonged there.

Looking awfully put out, Shunpike nodded his head, grumbling something under his breath and turning back into the Knight Bus, the door closing after him with a groan before the whole thing pulled away, too quick for her eyes to follow.

The second he was gone Winona let go of Fred with a loud sigh of relief, turning to George and throwing her arms around him in a friendly hug. "Hey guys, how've you been?" she asked, pulling away with a grin.

Twins were silent until George spoke up slyly, asking, "what, no kiss for me?"

Rolling her eyes, Winona turned to Fred apologetically. The poor bloke was standing stock still, gaping at her wordlessly. "Sorry, Freddie," she said apologetically. "That creep kept hitting on me. Told him I had a boyfriend to get him off my back," she explained. She couldn't quite tell in the darkness of the night, but she thought his ears had turned a deep red.

She felt bad for embarrassing him, but it was a small price to pay to keep Shunpike from trying to contact her in any way.

"Come on," George laughed, reaching down to pick up one side of Winona's trunk. "Let's get you inside."

"How'd you guys know I was here?" she asked curiously, watching as Fred shook his head to clear it, moving over to her trunk and grasping the other handle, the two of them lifting it up and beginning to walk back towards their house.

"I was by the window," Fred explained, finally recovering from his shock. "Saw the Knight Bus roll up, figured it could only either be you or our Aunt Muriel."

"And I'm definitely the better option, right?" she teased.

"Oh, definitely," he agreed solemnly. Winona smiled, feeling that little piece of her that went missing over the summer slide back into place. She exhaled, staring up at the house they were approaching. It was tall and haphazardly put together, like someone took a bunch of different rooms and crazy glued them all into one. It was charming, and she knew she wouldn't be able to picture them living anywhere else.

"Your mum won't mind that I just showed up unannounced?" she asked, feeling suddenly wary. It was unlikely that Mrs Weasley was the type to hit her sons' friends, but most of the experience Winona had had with adults whose roofs she'd lived under had involved violence. She wasn't sure she could take much more of it.

"You kidding?" scoffed George as he pushed open the door, bathing the three of them in light. "She'll be thrilled you're here."

Winona could only trust their judgement, gingerly stepping inside the eclectic house.

"Come on, you'll be staying in Ginny's room," said Fred as the door swung shut gently behind them. The light from the fire in the living room lit up their faces, and as Fred turned to add something else, he finally caught sight of Winona's face in the light. "Godric!" he cried, dropping his side of her trunk. Startled, Winona and George spun around to stare at him in surprise. "What happened to your face?" he demanded, eyes wide with horror.

Self-conscious, Winona reached up to cover the bruise on her cheek with her hand. "I fell," she lied. "Hit my face on the bannister."

"And your lip?" Fred prompted, reminding her of her split lip.

She smiled, hoping to appear roguish, but it just pulled at the broken skin of her lip and made her wince. "Yeah, that one's from a fight."

George tutted. "What are we going to do with you?" he wondered. Winona only attempted another smile.

George and Fred exchanged a long look, one of those ones where she could tell they were discussing something silently before then turned back to look at her with matching shrugs. "Come on, then," said Fred, grasping her wrist and using it to pull her along, his other hand gripping the trunk and helping George lug it up the stairs.

They kept quiet, as it was getting quite late, and when they came to a stop outside one of the first doors they came to, Fred put down his half of her trunk. "This is Ginny's room," explained George quickly. "I'll go make sure the spare bed's all ready for you." Fred kept his fingers locked around Winona's wrist, abruptly pulling her up yet another flight of stairs.

"Where're we going?" she asked in a low voice, mindful of the way the wooden steps creaked under their weight.

Fred didn't answer, abruptly opening another door and pushing her through. Inside were two beds, one on either side of the room. The floor was littered with clothes and other miscellaneous objects. The whole room smelt of gunpowder and expired potions, but she didn't mind, it just reminded her of them.

Fred left her by the door, moving over to a chest of drawers in the corner. He rooted around inside for a moment before producing a small tub of something orange, making his way around the carnage of his room and standing in front of her.

"Here," he said, unscrewing the lid and scooping up some of the stuff within. He made a move to smear it on her face, and she stepped back warily. He gave a quiet, kind of exasperated laugh. "Trust me?" he asked playfully.

"In theory," she replied slowly.

Fred snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's just ointment," he explained patiently. "For your bruise. It'll help it heal more quickly."

She was still wary, but she knew he was only trying to help and reluctantly leaned forwards, closing her eyes so he could smear the ointment over her bruise. His fingers met her skin gently, and the ointment smelt of oranges. He was careful and delicate as he spread the stuff over her injuries.

"You going to tell me how you _really_ got these bruise?" he asked softly, a perfectly reasonable question, even if it did make her flinch.

Swallowing, Winona kept her eyes shut, knowing the conversation would be easier if she wasn't looking at him. "Nope."

To his credit, he didn't argue, just sighing quietly and finishing his task, stepping back. She took this as a cue to open her eyes, and when she did she found he wasn't looking at her, but rather toying with the lid of the tub.

She didn't really want to press further, but her side was hurting like a bitch, and she was willing to make things temporarily worse if it meant she could get some pain relief. "Do you mind if I take that with me for the night?" she asked quietly, crossing her arms and looking away.

"Why?"

Winona shifted uncomfortably, but in the end just grit her teeth and ripped off the bandaid. "Because my face isn't the only place that's bruised," she admitted, and Fred went still in front of her.

It was funny the difference between how other people saw the twins, and how _she_ saw them. Most thought the pair didn't have so much as a serious bone in their bodies, but Winona knew otherwise. When they really _cared_, then they could be serious. She felt honoured that they cared enough to be serious about her.

"You keep it," said Fred suddenly, and she looked up at him quickly. "George and I can just make more later."

Winona took the small tub. "You guys _made_ this?" she asked in surprise.

"Some people actually pay attention in Potions, you know?"

"And by 'some people', you mean George, right?" she teased.

His serious expression melted into a toothy grin, and she was relieved. As privileged as she was to warrant their seriousness, she much preferred them smiling. She vowed then and there to never be the reason a Weasley twin lost his smile. She just couldn't bear it.

"Come on," he said with a laugh. "Let's get you to bed. We can argue some more in the morning."

He led her back down a few floors to Ginny's door, and as they arrived George stepped through. "Not your best look, I'll give you that," he said, gesturing to the orange ointment smeared across her bruised face.

"Still a right sight better than you'll ever look," she retaliated without missing a beat.

George rolled his eyes. "Go to bed," George ordered, nudging her in the direction of his sister's door. "You clearly need your beauty rest."

With a roll of her eyes, Winona ducked into Ginny's room, letting the door click shut after her. Turning around, she was met with the sight of Ginny herself, someone she'd yet to meet before now.

She was a tiny little girl with bright, flaming red hair sat on a bed in the corner, a magazine on what looked to be Quidditch brooms propped up in front of her. She didn't speak as Winona wandered deeper into the room, staring back at her with assessing, intelligent eyes.

"Hi, Ginny," Winona greeted her, hoping to make a good impression. "I'm Winona."

"Hello," young Ginny said, still watching her cautiously.

"Thanks for letting me stay in your room," she continued, taking a seat on the spare bed along the far wall. "Sorry for the late notice. I didn't know I was coming until tonight."

"S'okay," replied Ginny, rolling up her magazine and turning to look at Winona properly. "What's that on your face?" she asked curiously.

"Fred gave me some ointment for my bruises," she explained nonchalantly.

"Bruises?"

Winona shot Ginny a sheepish expression. "I get into more fights than I probably should," she confessed. And that was the truth.

"The twins talk about you all the time," said Ginny. "They told me that the first time you met, you punched some guy in the face."

Smiling fondly at the memory, Winona began unlacing her shoes. "That's true, yeah. He was being a dick."

"Do you punch people in the face often?"

"As often as I can, yeah," Winona confirmed cheerfully, then reconsidered. "But I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why not?"

"I dunno, it just felt like the responsible thing to say," she replied, and Ginny laughed. "I'm just gonna fall asleep in my clothes – promise not to judge me for it?"

Ginny giggled again, the sound soft but holding a steel to it that Winona respected. "Promise."

The next day dawned, and Winona woke up to the sound of a kettle whistling and voices chattering away from somewhere below her. She remembered where she was with a smile, and for the first time in weeks was happy to roll out of bed. Her bruised body ached in protest, but it went ignored.

She reached up to press against the ointment on her face, only to find it had absorbed into her skin overnight. Glancing in the small mirror hanging on Ginny's wall, she found that the bruises had almost completely vanished. Not for the first time, she conceded that the twins really _were_ geniuses.

Ginny was already downstairs, so Winona took advantage of the empty room to quickly change, pulling on a fresh pair of paint-stained jeans and a simple shirt. Then to finish it off she yanked a dark flannel on over top and combed her fingers through her knotty hair, deciding it would just have to do.

Wandering down the stairs and following the sounds of life, Winona noticed immediately that the Burrow looked a lot different in the day than it did in the night. The home was the exact opposite of ordinary, and she absolutely _loved _it.

There were big, squashy chairs placed around the room, and in one of them a pair of knitting needles were hard at work, moving by magic to knit what looked like a soft, woollen sweater. There was a chess board sitting on the table, the remains of smashed pieces littering the checkered top. Through the door to the right she could just see a scouring brush working on its own to scrub clean a dirty pan.

Everything was packed tightly together, but it didn't feel cluttered, it just felt lived in. The windows were all eclectic, stained glass patterns, none of them matching, but all uniquely beautiful. Above her the roof was on a diagonal angle, threatening to bump her head if she stepped any closer to the wall.

There was an abrupt shout from across the room, and turning sharply as though expecting an attack, Winona was surprised to be met with the sight of a red haired, pleasantly plump woman with a smile on her face so bright that it was like looking directly at the sun.

"You must be Winona!" the woman said shrilly, scurrying across the room to gather Winona in a tight, warm embrace, the likes of which she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced. "Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, dear," she was saying, rubbing her back gently in such a motherly way that it _almost_ made Winona's eyes sting_._

She wasn't really sure what to do during such a loving hug. She briefly squeezed her back, feeling the woman's grip on her tighten.

When Mrs Weasley pulled back, she was beaming brightly enough to render someone blind. "Oh, I've heard so much about you," she said, hands pressed to Winona's shoulders, a gentle but reassuring pressure.

"I hope you don't mind that I arrived so unexpectedly, Mrs Weasley," Winona said respectfully. "I would have owled ahead, but..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

"No matter, dear," said Mrs Weasley cheerfully, and Winona really believed it. "Come through, the others are just having breakfast now."

She stepped into the next room where a large dining table sat. It was full to the brim with redheads, all of them chattering among one another loudly over the top of a feast of bacon and scrambled eggs.

"Morning, you sleeping dragon!" cried the twins from where they sat, grinning at her and pointing obnoxiously at the open seat on Fred's left. She moved around the table, taking a seat where they'd saved it.

"You must be Winona," said an older, balding man with laugh lines covering his aging face. "We've heard so much about you."

He leaned across the table to shake her hand, and she did so, smiling at him politely. "Nice to meet you, Mr Weasley."

"Oh, Winona dear, you won't have met Ron yet," said Mrs Weasley as she bustled around the table, pouring juice for her youngest children. She waved a hand at a boy only a couple of years younger than she and the twins. He was tall for his age, lanky like his brothers, with the same red hair and freckles.

"Hey, Ron," she smiled at him, and instantly his ears went bright red. The twins each cackled around their mouthful of bacon. "Are you starting Hogwarts this year or next?" she asked him, kicking Fred in the leg in reprimand. She may not have been the most socially aware person in the room, but she was never a dick to someone who didn't deserve it (...usually).

"Next," Ron managed to say around his nerves, looking dejected over the fact.

"You'll love it once you get there," Winona promised him as she began to pile her plate high with food. It was a quirk of foster care – eat plenty when you had the chance, because who knew when your next meal would come around?

"How do you get sorted into your House?" asked Ron eagerly. "Fred and George say you have to wrestle a troll, but I don't believe them."

She almost took pity on the kid, but this time Fred was the one to kick her in the leg, and she really couldn't help but play along.

"Oh yeah, there's a massive troll," said Winona with the kind of conviction usually reserved for Quidditch matches and pranks on the Slytherins. "How d'you think I got this scar?" she asked, lifting her hair and pointing to a scar that ran from below her ear to the junction of her shoulder.

Ron went a stark white, staring at her in horror. From beside her, the twins were just barely keeping in their snickers of amusement. From the head of the table, Mr Weasley was smirking, but he didn't give in and tell the truth, something that made Winona like him even more.

He suddenly leant forwards, an eager look on his lined face. "So Winona, the twins tell me you grew up as a Muggle," he began, interest warming his voice.

Almost immediately every child around the room groaned, leaning back in their chair with exasperation. Getting the feeling that engaging was going to be something of a mistake, Winona could still only nod. "That's right, I did."

"Brilliant," said Mr Weasley, like he couldn't possibly think of a better way to grow up. "That makes your parents Muggles, then?"

She felt Fred stiffen from beside her, but she wasn't as touchy about it as he probably assumed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thing to discuss, but she didn't mind. Besides, Mr Weasley was being perfectly nice about the whole thing, and he was only curious. "My parents were magical, actually," she told Mr Weasley in an even voice. "But they both died when I was three."

There was a beat of awkward silence as nobody quite knew how to respond, and Winona felt bad for bringing down the atmosphere until she got a look at Mrs Weasley's face. Curious, Winona watched her, wondering why she suddenly looked so pale.

"What did you say your last name was again, dear?" she asked, voice a little wobbly, like she were holding back an emotion Winona couldn't name.

"Andrews," she told her. "My parents were Jessica and Orion Andrews."

"And they died when you were three, you say?"

"Yes?" by now her hesitance was leaking into her voice. Why did she get the feeling Mrs Weasley knew something she didn't?

"Winona!" said Mr Weasley abruptly, and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. He hadn't said her name like he wanted her attention – he'd said it like it were something he'd long since been trying to remember, and it had just now come to him.

"Mum," said Fred through gritted teeth. "Why're you being so weird?"

Mrs Weasley seemed to realise how odd she was being, blinking out of it and shooting Winona an apologetic look that she wasn't so sure she bought. "Sorry, dear," she said, leaning forwards to gently pat her shoulder. The gesture, while kind, made Winona want to flinch away. "It's just, you remind me of somebody I once knew."

"Who?" Winona asked without any tact.

Mrs Weasley tutted distractedly and turned away to hastily begin buttering Ginny's toast for her. "Oh, nobody important," she said airily, but Winona didn't buy it for a moment. "Who do you live with now, might I ask?" she continued on casually. "Relatives?"

"No," said Winona quickly, pushing idly at the strips of crispy bacon on her plate. "I'm in the Muggle foster care system."

Mr Weasley leant forwards, eager for more. "Foster care system?" he asked. "What's that?"

Winona blinked in surprise. "The Wizarding world doesn't have a foster system?"

"No," said Mr Weasley, having all but abandoned his food in favour of giving her his full, undivided attention. "It sounds fascinating."

Winona decided to put aside Mr and Mrs Weasley's odd behaviour. She'd ask the twins what that was about later on. For now she was just going to try and enjoy the day, and the feeling of family she felt wrapped in like a hand-knitted quilt.

So Winona launched into a basic explanation of the foster care system, explaining how she'd had several in the past, and the ones she was with now were just the latest in a long line of unsuitable homes.

Mr Weasley kept up a steady supply of questions, all but ignoring his wife when she chastised him for talking so much and keeping her from her breakfast. Winona promised she didn't mind – it was kind of nice to talk about it with somebody who didn't look at her with pity in their eyes. Instead Mr Weasley was just a huge ball of fascination. He just wanted to _learn._

"Oh, how brilliant," gushed Mr Weasley when she'd finished. "Getting to meet all those different types of Muggles, it must be so fascinating," he rambled obliviously.

It wasn't, actually. It was horrible and painful and the not brilliant in even the slightest way. But Winona wasn't looking to crush the poor bloke's spirits, so with only a slight wrinkle of her nose she pasted a smile on her face and said, "yeah, it can be pretty interesting."

"You'll have to tell me all about the...what's it called? The refrig-idor-ator."

Winona had to think for a moment on what that might mean. "You mean the refrigerator?" she asked, undeniably amused. "I don't pretend to know much about how it works, but I'd be happy to try," she said with a smile.

Mrs Weasley sent her a grateful smile for playing along.

Once breakfast was over, the twins hurried to help their mum clean up before bounding over to Winona excitedly. "Ready to go out back and play some Quidditch?" Fred asked her eagerly.

"Yeah, sounds awesome," she agreed, and with bright beams the pair disappeared, the sound of their shoes clunking on the staircase drifting up through the door leading to the kitchen. Winona turned to Ginny, who was still sat beside her, watching her closely. "I've never played Quidditch before," she revealed to the younger girl quietly, taking a sip of the last of her juice.

"You haven't?" she asked, practically lighting up at the words.

"Nope," Winona confirmed. "I watched all the house matches last year, but I've never played it myself."

"Which position do you think you'd like to play?"

"I think either Seeker or Chaser."

"When I go to Hogwarts, I'm going to join the Gryffindor House team as a Chaser!" Ginny exclaimed with such unwavering certainty that Winona wholeheartedly believed her.

"But what if you don't get into Gryffindor?" she asked jokingly.

Ginny looked affronted at the very suggestion. "Of course I'll get into Gryffindor," she said slowly, as if correcting Winona on an error she'd made.

"Of course you will," Winona replied with a laugh. "Did you want to come down and play a game with us?" she asked kindly, and Ginny lit up at the offer.

"The twins _never_ ask me to play with them," she said loudly, eyes wide at the prospect. "I don't know if they'd let me," she added, crestfallen.

"Well, _I_ say you can, so the twins will just have to keep their ugly mugs shut, won't they?"

Ginny looked like Christmas had come early, grinning as she climbed from her chair eagerly. "You wanna be on a team together?" she asked, eyes glinting with childlike hope.

"Sure thing, Ginger."

Ginny's tiny face scrunched up adorably. "My name's not Ginger," she replied, looking mighty confused.

"Oh, I though Ginny was short for Ginger," Winona confessed.

"It's short for Ginevra," she said with a revolted grimace. "I like Ginger better, though," she added with a decisive nod.

"Ginger it is, then, Ginger," Winona told her, reaching out to ruffle her ginger hair. Ginny acted disgruntled, but there was a bright spark to her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Ginny following you around like a witch on a love potion?" Fred asked once they'd both wandered back into the kitchen.

"Beat it, Gin," George added, tossing a tattered old Quaffle up into the air and catching it with both hands.

"Winona said I could play," Ginny said, looking like a munchkin compared to her tall, lanky older brothers.

"She did?" the twins asked, looking displeased.

"Of course I did," Winona told them, a sharp look on her face, just daring them to question it. "Why shouldn't she?"

"Well, Ron was gonna play with us," Fred said, gesturing to the corner where Ron stood, ears seeming to be permanently stained red. "If Ginny comes too, the teams will be uneven."

"They can both be on my team," Winona said with ease. "Considering I've never played before, I could use all the help I can get."

The twins grimaced but were smart enough not to argue. "Fine," they muttered. "Come on," George prompted her, heading out through the back door. "The shed with the brooms is out here."

The shed was small and run down, but Winona thought it held as much character as the house itself. The inside was full of a handful of beaten up old brooms. Winona didn't care; as long as it could fly, she'd get on it.

"Do you want the Comet or the Shooting Star?" asked Fred, holding out two particularly ratty looking brooms.

"The Comet will do me," she replied, taking it from him gently, treating it with the utmost care. She hadn't flown since her flying lessons last year, but she'd loved it then and couldn't wait to try again.

"You know the rules?" George asked as they came to a stop in a field at the back of the Burrow. She did – she absolutely loved to watch the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, they were one of her favourite parts of school itself. The twins were set on joining the team in the coming year, but as much as Winona loved the game she didn't want the responsibility of playing for her House.

"Yeah," she nodded anyway, running over the rules in her head once more.

"Forget them," Fred said gleefully before she could really get started. "Out here, there _are no rules._"

The twins had a wicked gleam to their eyes that made her grin.

"Except biting and elbowing," Ron interjected warily.

"Yes, yes," George tutted impatiently.

"We don't play with Bludgers or a Snitch," Fred told her. "There aren't enough of us anyway. We just try and get this old Quaffle through those trees," he said, gesturing to the makeshift ring made from tree trunks, obviously aided by magic.

"Got it," she confirmed, and he grinned, straddling his broom and shooting up into the sky. Winona beamed, glancing over at the others, who had all lifted up from the ground as well, and was quick to follow.

* * *

The weeks passed almost too quickly, it was all a bit of a blur. There was food (a _lot _of food), and there was Quidditch (a _lot _of Quidditch). Ginny and Ron introduced her to a Wizarding band called the Weird Sisters, which was actually rather good.

Mrs Weasley was incredibly welcoming and Winona felt at home right away. She had found out that Winona liked to cook, so she'd adopted a habit of inviting her down to the kitchen before dinner to help prepare the meal. Winona had never had anyone cook with her before, she'd barely even done it herself. But Mrs Weasley was an amazing teacher. It was lovely, too, standing in the kitchen with her as they chatted about the food they were making, or what their favourite dishes of all time were and how to make them.

Mrs Weasley discovered early on, however, that while the young second year was good with every-day meals, she had a real flare for baking.

"I was thinking of making muffins for afternoon tea," she said to the young girl one day about halfway through her stay. "Do you have a recipe you like in particular?"

Winona had felt warm at the offer, and she grinned at Mrs Weasley brightly, launching into the verbal recipe for her special blueberry muffins. One of the foster homes she'd been in once was a nice enough woman named Emma. She'd had recipe books strewn all over the house, and Winona had liked flicking through them when she was bored.

Mrs Weasley had taken a backseat that afternoon, and by the time the rest of the family were sitting down to eat, Winona was exhausted but content.

"You all have Winona to thank for today's afternoon tea," Mrs Weasley told them, wrapping an arm around the small girl's shoulders and squeezing gently. The others dug into her muffins with gusto, loudly proclaiming how much they loved what she'd made. Winona felt her cheeks grow hot, unused to such high praise.

The days passed by and the twins spoke a lot of pranks, holed up in their room ("with the door open, thank you very much, you two," Mrs Weasley had said to them, a spatula pointed threateningly in their direction), scribbling out their plans for the coming school year.

"Dungbombs," Fred said one night in answer to a question George had posed. "We're definitely going to need to stock them in the joke shop, George," he added, tapping the tip of a Sugar Quill against the dimple in his chin. "I wonder if there's anything that smells _worse _than dung?"

"Hold up," Winona said from where she was reclined on one of their beds, her head over the edge, watching the twins scheme from upside down. It was a position she'd taken up often over the weeks at the Burrow. She'd begun to love just hanging out in the twins' room, listening to their plotting and sketching to her heart's content. It was like being back at school, hanging out around the castle on weekends with nothing to do. She'd long-since decided this was her happy place. "What joke shop?" she asked now, hands dangling down to the floor.

"Oh – after we graduate school, we're gonna open our own joke shop," George told her flippantly.

"We haven't come up with a name yet, we're still working that part out," Fred hurried to add.

Winona was perfectly silent, a picture almost like a vision in her mind's eye of two beaming wizards in magenta robes, their hair the colour of fire and a sea of customers flowing around them. In the present, she saw their faces fall.

"We know it probably sounds stupid," Fred said rather dully, disappointed by her lack of reaction.

"No!" she exclaimed, realising they had taken her silence the wrong way. "Not at all!" With a grunt she forced herself to sit up, spinning around so she could look at them both properly, though she went kind of cross-eyed from the sudden change in position. "I think it's brilliant!" she assured them once she was more certain she wouldn't throw up. "It's absolutely perfect, I couldn't imagine the two of you doing anything else!"

The twins looked the opposite of crestfallen, grinning at her widely, like she'd paid them the biggest compliment on earth.

"Does the Wizarding world offer courses in business?" she asked eagerly.

"Not that we know of," George told her with a shrug. "But anyway, all of that costs gold, of which we have none."

"_Yet_," Fred interjected cheerfully. "We'll run an ad in the _Prophet_, sell our stuff by mail order, then hopefully, we'll have saved enough to buy a premises."

Winona could only gape at them. "You really have it all planned out, don't you?" she murmured, feeling a sense of pride bloom in her chest. The tops of the twins' ears turned a faint pink. "Oh, now I can't wait until school finishes, and I'm standing in your shop, looking around at all the wonderful products-"

Then everything went terrifyingly dark. There were the usual flashes, intense and packed with more colour than any she'd ever seen before. There was a sound, like a buzzing in her ear, only getting louder and louder with every passing heartbeat. It was so familiar, what _was_ it?

When she finally recognised it, she realised it could never be anything else; it was _laughter. _The kind that rattled your body and made your insides hurt in the best of ways.

She came back to the present with a jolt, much like landing back on the ground after flying on a broom. "Ugh," she groaned, feeling the room spin from underneath her, her stomach still reeling from her journey into the sea of time.

"I think she's back!" Fred's voice hissed from beside her ear. Winona blinked, whirling around to look at him. He was sitting beside her on the bed, hands hovering over her as though to grab her. Glancing to the right she saw George standing by the door, presumably keeping a lookout for anyone who might come by and find her zoned out in an episode. "George, come check out what she drew!" Fred said excitedly. George left his post to hurry over.

She wasn't sure what she looked like when she had an episode – she'd only ever experienced it from the inside before – but she could imagine it wasn't a particularly pretty sight. She was astounded that the twins were taking it so well, having even had enough sense to put something in her hands for her to draw with. She felt embarrassed, having had them see her that way, but neither seemed to care, so she shoved the embarrassment away and glanced down at her new prediction.

"Whoa," George gasped as he took in the rough sketch on the paper.

On the parchment before her, sketched in simple black ink, sat a storefront, big and crowded. It was in the distance, the words along the top impossible to make out, but it was very clearly in Diagon Alley, with tiny little witches and wizards pouring in and out of it. It looked busier than any of the shops had ever been when she'd gone to Diagon Alley in the past.

"Do you think that's us?" Fred asked, excitement overflowing.

"'Course it is!" George was beaming so broadly that Winona thought his lips might crack. "She was talking about us and our store in the future, then _BAM_!" he said with such a sudden roar that Winona jumped, "She has a vision!"

"It can't be coincidence!" Fred agreed wholeheartedly.

"This means we're going to succeed!"

Both twins leapt up, locking arms and doing a strange sort of jig around the middle of their bedroom floor in unrestrained glee. Bemused, Winona could only watch them. It was the first time they'd ever been with her during the bulk of a vision. She wasn't sure what other people saw from the outside, but she didn't imagine it was particularly nice; her mind wasn't with her, she was little more than an empty shell. She was still surprised that, instead of being weird about it, the twins took it on board and looked after her until she returned.

The vision had worn her out, but she still managed a smile for her ecstatic best friends, who looked the happiest she'd ever seen them. She hoped their happiness would never fade, and beyond all else, hoped her vision would come true.

The next day was the trip into Diagon Alley to gather their school supplies. They bought their books, and their extra potion ingredients, but decided to wait until next year to buy new robes, reasoning that they still had a few inches of growing left to do anyway. Mrs Weasley let them go off on their own and they hung around Quality Quidditch Supplies for about a half hour before heading straight to Florean's for ice cream.

Along with her supply list, McGonagall had sent a small pouch of galleons – her annual allowance from the Ministry for school supplies. She felt a bit weird about taking it, but at the end of the day money was money, and she still had enough left over to buy the twins their ice cream.

They'd tried to kick up a stink when she insisted on paying, but she shut them up with a stern look that had them ducking their heads like chastised children, and they took their treats with exaggerated thank you's, complete with dipping bows and posh accents.

The days were slipping through her fingers like sand, and as much as she couldn't wait to be back at school, she knew she was going to desperately miss the Summer, the freedom, and the atmosphere of pure _homeliness_ she felt at the Burrow. It was a sensation of belonging that she hadn't known could exist, and she was reluctant to leave so soon after discovering it.

"Cheer up!" George said as they walked through King's Cross towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. "At least at school we don't have to de-gnome the garden!"

"Yeah, but it's just replaced by _homework_, George," she said with a withering sigh. "I'd take tossing gnomes across the yard over an essay on the uses for dragon blood _any _day."

"She's got a point there, Forge," Fred said with a click of his tongue, and George had to agree. "But also, we'll have a whole _sea_ of Slytherins to test our new pranks on!" he added cheerfully, and even Winona had to smile at the enthusiasm in his voice and the extra bounce in his step. "And don't tell me you're not chomping at the bit to see Alicia and Ange."

This time she was the one to agree, but she still couldn't help her own melancholy demeanour as Mrs Weasley said goodbye, the train whistling impatiently from behind them.

"You be good, you hear?" she said to the twins sternly, eyes narrowed suspiciously, like she thought they were planning something nefarious even as they stood before her.

"Wizard's oath," they swore simultaneously, each pressing a hand over their hearts.

Mrs Weasley looked anything but convinced, but the train whistled again, and she pulled them into a large, group hug, squeezing tightly and pressing a kiss to both their heads of fiery red hair before pulling away and wiping at her misty eyes.

"And you'll be good too, won't you, Winona?" the Weasley matriarch turned to her, and she blinked in surprise at the inclusion.

"Of course, Mrs Weasley," she said, feeling slightly guilty that she didn't completely mean it, but it was what the woman needed to hear.

Mrs Weasley smiled, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "And you'll write to me...if they get into _too_ much trouble, won't you?" she murmured, and Winona's eyes widened, knowing without a doubt that wasn't something she was going to be able to promise.

"I'll keep them safe," she said instead, avoiding the request like a minefield and attempting a smile that ended up as more of a twisted grimace. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to notice, beaming at her wetly just as the train whistled a final time. The twins tugged on her arms, yanking her back onto the train before it could pull away without her. Winona waved goodbye to Mrs Weasley as the train pulled out of the station, and they disappeared around the bend.

"Hey, Hogans!" the twins yelled to a bespectacled Ravenclaw from their year. The boy spun around with his hands held up in surrender, probably assuming he was about to be the twins' first target of the school year. "Seen Lee around?" George continued blithely, as though the poor kid didn't look completely traumatised by the mere call of his name.

Winona smirked at the twins' reputation. It was kind of hilarious.

"Few compartments back that way," he said, and the twins gave lazy salutes before following the directions.

The twins began to mutter between one another, and knowing they'd be like that for a while, Winona rolled her eyes and pushed past them, scanning the compartments until she found Lee. His head of thick, inky dreadlocks stood out amongst the other heads of hair, and she beamed at the sight of him.

"Hey guys," she greeted the compartment at large, slipping inside and dragging her trunk in after her. Alicia hopped up to help her store it above their heads. "How was your summer?" she asked once her things were away, reclining back on the bench, reaching out to lazily bump her fist against Angelina's in greeting, then doing the same with Lee.

"My Aunt Ayomide visited from Africa last week," Lee offered, turning back to his game of Gobstones with Angelina. "She brought me a voodoo doll and told me to use it on my enemies, so you'd better be nice to me this year."

Winona snorted, kicking him in the shin playfully. The twins finally made their way to the compartment, tumbling inside clumsily, like a pair of penguins with their legs strapped together. "Salutations, friends!" Fred greeted the group at large, and he was met with a vague chorus of hellos.

"I heard Jacqueline Jenkins from fifth year dropped out of school to be with a Slytherin who graduated last year," Alicia was saying to Winona, perfectly content to ignore the twins' entrance.

"Seriously?" Winona asked, intrigued. The sound of Angelina's shouts filled the compartment as water shot into her face from the Gobstones, and then the twins' uproarious laughter joined it, and soon the whole room was full of laughter, aimless chatter and friendly, lighthearted goading.

And maybe it wasn't the Burrow, with Mrs Weasley's kind smile and her husband's incessant questions about the Muggle Underground and Ron's blushing cheeks as he offered her the last slice of toast and Ginny's shy grin as she made a joke at her brothers' expense – but suddenly Winona realised that there, surrounded by her friends on the way back to Hogwarts, she'd never felt more at home.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed. Still just setting up the main facts in these beginning chapters. I considered skipping ahead, but I think it's important we get a good foundation for the story to come. Little hints within this one that give nods to plot points further along in the story. Leave me a review and let me know what you thought - they always make me smile! xx**


	5. The others think I'm bonkers

The school year began with very little fanfare. Classes started, the teachers were all the same, and it seemed as though absolutely nothing had changed since the term before, like no time at all had passed.

Quidditch tryouts were upon them only a few short weeks into the term, and looking across at the sea of applicants, Winona didn't have to be a Seer to know who was going to get the two open Beater positions.

"Are you _sure _you don't want to try out with us?" Angelina asked again, her and Alicia gripping their old Comets tightly, trying to hide how nervous they were. "You could fly circles around _her,_" she finished in a whisper, turning to look at Allison Leaker, a fourth year Gryffindor with stringy hair and twisted scowl.

Winona cast the older student a look of clear disdain, conceding that Angelina was right, she could have made her look like a toddler on a stick in comparison.

"Nah," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I like Quidditch, but not enough to join the team."

Angelina looked disappointed, but she understood. "Think the twins'll make it?" she asked, swinging her arms around in sharp movements, stretching out her muscles.

"They're a shoo-in," she replied without a hint of doubt. Angelina didn't look surprised by her certainty. She cocked an eyebrow, and Winona briefly faltered. "Ah – so are you, Ange," she added, hoping she didn't sound as awkward as she felt. "You'll do great, I know it," she finished, holding up both hands in a less-than-convincing double thumbs up that made the taller girl roll her eyes.

"I can't believe two Chaser positions opened at the same time," Angelina said rather than bring attention to the stilted exchange, for which Winona was grateful. "What are the odds that all four positions will be filled by second years?"

"Slim to none," she answered dryly, although Angelina didn't seem to appreciate her wit. Winona only gave an impish grin in response, turning once again to survey the gathered Gryffindors.

"We reckon Crawford and Mills from fifth year would have a shot; _maybe_, if _we _weren't here," the twins had appeared, high-fiving obnoxiously at Fred's egotistical comment.

"Heard Nott and Perry from Slytherin saying they think Charlie's the only reason you'll get picked," Angelina told them, electing to ignore their theatrics.

The twins gasped indignantly, turning towards the school and glaring, as though they could see through the layers and layers of stone and earth into the Slytherin common room, where they were cooking the Slytherins alive with the power of their minds.

"Ignore them, you two," Winona said, reaching up to clap them both on the shoulder encouragingly, like sports coaches always did in the movies – though she supposed the reference was lost on the wizard-raised twins. "Go out there and beat some balls," she told them cheekily just as Charlie called tryouts to a start.

"We've been training our whole lives for this," George responded wickedly, and she snorted indelicately as they left, jogging towards the centre of the Pitch.

"You okay?" Winona asked Ange, who looked vaguely like she'd just swallowed a poorly brewed potion.

"Fine," she replied faintly, so Winona slapped her on the shoulder too, hoping it felt encouraging.

"You'll do great," she promised. Angelina nodded distractedly, her eyes on where Charlie was explaining something to the others. "Go on, before you miss out," she said, pushing her forwards.

"Right," the soon-to-be Chaser agreed, and Winona smiled as she watched her wander blindly towards the others. Once Angelina had joined the rest of the potentials, Winona left the pitch, meeting up with Hope who was waiting at the base of the stairs leading to the stands.

The Chasers were up first, and Winona cheered loudly for her friends. Both cut through the air like bullets, passing the Quaffle between them fluidly, showing off exactly how hard they'd been practising. Alicia only scored three out of five goals, but Angelina got all of them, and Winona whistled sharply in celebration – she'd by far done the best out of everyone who'd tried out.

Angelina and Alicia landed, heads bowed as they debriefed on their tryout, but Winona was distracted by Charlie calling the Beaters up next. Crossing her fingers, Winona's eyes were glued to the two redheaded twins who each held a thick, sturdy bat in their pale hands.

They moved even more fluidly than the girls had, but it wasn't from practise as much as it was from their magical twin-connection. They flew circles around everybody else, quite literally, barrelling across the space like a pair of Bludgers themselves.

Without a roaring crowd, she could hear the sound of their bats colliding with the Bludgers, and each time she reminded herself that it wasn't their heads, then stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled loud enough to make Hope cover her ears.

Finally, a good two hours later, tryouts were over with, and Winona was all but tripping down the stairs in her eagerness to reach her friends. "You all did brilliantly!" she assured them, coming to a stop before them and rocking back on her heels so she could look the twins – who had both grown about a _foot_ over the summer – in the eyes.

"We figured," George told her, his eyes laughing. "If you whistled any louder, you might have made my ears bleed."

There was a flicker in her mind, and in her eyes, like the flash of a camera, only it brought with it an image that wouldn't quite focus.

"Really?" Ange's voice asked in her ear, but Winona was losing touch with reality far too quickly, like she were encased in quicksand made from the stuff of time itself, pulling her down into its grip. "Winnie, honestly!" she huffed, exasperated, but Winona didn't have time to ask what she was talking about before she was pulled under.

It was the usual – nonsensical flashes and noises she couldn't pinpoint – only this time, there was an odd burning on the side of her face, like somebody had chucked a ruthless curse her way. If she'd been able to feel her facial features beyond the pain, she might have grimaced.

She came out of it to see the field half empty, and instead of being out in the grass with the last few stragglers, she was sat on her knees under the stands, her sketchbook on her lap and her hands stained black and red.

The image on the paper before her was grotesque, and she gasped at the sight of it.

One of the twins lay on a threadbare couch, and whichever it was, he was clearly quite a lot older than they were now, the baby fat gone from his face, replaced by sharp angles and a weary sort of tiredness that hurt to look at; but – most disturbingly – he was missing an ear. The drawing was done in charcoal, except for the bright red ink of the blood dripping down over his neck like something from a terrible horror film.

Atrociously sick, Winona slammed her sketchbook shut and refocused on the present, the world around her slowly feeling less like a vision and more like her usual reality.

Fred and George were standing a few feet away, murmuring between one another softly, looking oddly torn between anxiety and elation. "What happened?" she asked them as she approached, her steps a little unsteady and her balance a little off, like she'd just spent an entire week on a cheap carnival ride. She shakily stuffed the offending sketch into her bag, making sure she had all her utensils together before clipping it shut and throwing it back over her shoulder.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" the twins exclaimed, turning to see her finally back with them.

"Was it bad?" she asked warily, not even sure she really wanted to know. She could barely imagine what her visions looked like to people around her, she could only hope they didn't try and have her committed to Saint Mungo's.

"Everyone thinks you're a nutter, and an exceptionally _rude_ one at that," Fred told her calmly, a hint of mischief in his eyes that calmed her racing pulse, the glint reassuring and familiar. "But other than that, everything's fine. We convinced Ange and Alicia that we upset you by being wankers and that you'd gone off to sulk. They told us to 'fix it or else' and that they'd meet us all back in the common room."

Winona blinked in surprise. "And how'd I get over here?" she asked confusedly. She wasn't sure what exactly happened to her body during a vision, but she didn't imagine she was able to somehow able to get herself to safety – surely she didn't just go on autopilot, but then again, magic _was_ unpredictable. Who knew what she was capable of?

"We just led you over here, kind of like a brainless horse or something," George shrugged, and she hummed in acknowledgement, trying not to picture that in her head. She was still feeling incredibly unwell, both from the episode itself and the content of her vision. What did it mean, and when was it going to happen? Perhaps most importantly: how could she stop it? "So, what'd you draw?" he continued eagerly, beginning to lead her away from the stands and across the Pitch towards the path the led back to the castle.

"Huh?" she asked sharply, refocusing on the twins, who were both staring at her expectantly. "What?"

"What did you draw?" Fred repeated slowly.

She hesitated, wondering whether she should be upfront or not, but ultimately decided to keep it to herself. She hated secrets between them more than anything, but she didn't want to scare either one of them unnecessarily. No, she'd go to Dumbledore first, that batty old wizard always knew what to do. Well, _mostly._

"If I told you, I'd have to Obliviate you," she told them, aiming for playful, and it seemed to work, because they both snorted.

"Come _on_," George whined childishly.

"Is it the results of a Quidditch match?" Fred questioned eagerly. "We could make some serious gold if you started having visions of who wins the upcoming games...especially now that we're _in_ them!"

She opened her mouth to tell them that, no, it wasn't the results of a match, but instead she got caught on the last thing he'd said and decided to run with it as a distraction – which she knew was stepping into something dangerously close to manipulation, but she reminded herself it was for the best.

"You got in?!" she asked excitedly, and she certainly didn't have to fake her enthusiasm.

"We got in!" the twins confirmed as one. She gave a sort of squeal, childlike fervour seeming to almost leak from her pores, and both George and Fred gave wide grins.

"_Congrats_, you guys!" she told them, grinning back so wide that her face began to hurt.

"Oh, like you didn't already know," Fred scoffed, and though she actually hadn't know _for sure_, she still winked playfully, making him laugh. "Celebratory piggyback ride?" he suggested, and she laughed as she handed off her bag to George, who took it without complaint, watching as Fred crouched down and Winona leapt onto his back with practised ease. "You should eat more bacon," he commented as they began to walk up towards the castle. "You're lighter than a Cornish Pixie."

"Oi," she barked, slapping him on the shoulder. "Never comment on a lady's weight."

"If I meet one, I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he quipped. She snorted with laughter as Fred sped up, the damp evening growing wetter as the clouds gave way to a light mist of rain.

She wasn't able to keep her thoughts off her foreboding vision for long, however, as the next night was her scheduled meeting with Dumbledore, and she knew she _had_ to bring it up, no matter how terrified she was of the answers to her questions.

Dumbledore's office was the same as it always was, large and interesting, and even though she was usually quite averse to reading, the colourful array of books kind of made her want to crack some open, if only to glimpse the insides and whatever secrets they might hold.

"Tea, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster's voice, deceivingly frail, sounded from the corner. She startled, not having realised he was there.

"Please," she said with a swallow, moving over and taking a seat in the chair that was still at least three sizes too big for her, watching as he flicked his wrist and the tea began to prepare itself.

"What do you have to show me today, my dear?" he asked pleasantly and without preamble, coming to a stop beside his beautiful phoenix familiar and gently stroking him on the top of his head. He preened under the attention, his beautiful crimson feathers glinting in the firelight.

Glaring at her hands as though it might stop them from shaking, Winona pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to the most recent page. She took a deep breath before showing him the haunting sketch of the lifeless looking Weasley twin, strikingly red blood pouring from his injury, stark against the black lines.

Dumbledore made a humming noise, grasping the teacup as it floated into his hand, taking a small sip as he stared down at it thoughtfully, expression giving nothing away. The other teacup hovered in the air before floating towards Winona, who hesitated only a moment before grabbing it gently and wrapping her hands around the heated porcelain, the warmth comforting in a familiar way. She took a deep sip – it was made to perfection, as always, and she wondered whether it was by magic, or by Dumbledore's will that it be done so.

"May I enquire as to which Weasley twin this might be?" the Headmaster finally spoke, sounding pleasantly curious, as though he were asking what she thought the weather might be like in the morning.

"Why do you assume I know?" she asked, feeling oddly defensive at the question.

"I was under the impression you could tell them apart," Dumbledore replied, the picture of innocence as he took a heavy seat in his comfortable chair, sapphire eyes twinkling. "Not even their own mother can do it with such ease."

"Fred reckons it's just part of being a Seer," she told him quietly, running a finger along the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup.

"Perhaps he's correct," Dumbledore mused absently, giving nothing away.

She took another sip. "It's George," she revealed, casting the horrible sketch another distrustful look. She hadn't known, not at first. She'd laid in bed the night before, curtains drawn around her as she'd stared down at the offending image, and she _knew_, just as she always did, which twin it was.

"And when will this happen?"

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know," she murmured, then frowned as she reconsidered this. "Although, George does look a whole lot older than he does now," she added thoughtfully, leaning forwards and reaching out a finger to run it over her best friend's charcoal profile, his expression contorted in uneasy pain. "So it must be a far way in the future. I wonder how far ahead I can see," she mused aloud. Dumbledore tilted his head down to get a better look at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"A question better posed to Professor Trelawney, I assure you," he told her, pulling out his wand and waving it over the sketch, an exact copy appearing beside it. "Don't spend too long worrying about this, Miss Andrews," he added kindly, steepling his fingers, elbows propped on his magnificent desk. "It doesn't do to dwell on what cannot be changed."

"But what if it can?" She'd spoken without thought, but it was out there now, and she couldn't take back the question. She didn't even want to. "Be changed, I mean," she added in case there was any confusion. "The future isn't set in stone, right?"

Dumbledore tilted his head again, staring at her like he could read her every thought. She felt oddly naked, sitting before him. She didn't like it. "I suppose that depends on your personal beliefs," he finally said, the spark of intrigue in his eyes unmistakeable, like she'd given him something to consider. "I believe _you_, more than anybody here, is the most qualified to answer that question," he continued. "The future is_ your_ domain, after all."

Winona sipped at the last of her tea. "What about Professor Trelawney?" she reminded him, and there was an inexplicable twitch at his lips, like something about what she'd said amused him.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Miss Andrews," he said, leaning forwards conspiratorially. Curious and somewhat wary, Winona leaned in too, her brow furrowed as she waited. "With every passing day, you are proving to be a more powerful seer than Professor Trelawney could ever dream to be," he revealed, surprising her greatly.

"Seriously?" she asked without a semblance of tact. Dumbledore only smiled again, blue eyes twinkling like crystals in the firelight.

His lips twitched again, like he knew something she didn't, but he nodded once with absolute sincerity. "Seriously."

* * *

The common room had been busy that night, a few weeks into the term, but it had begun to empty earlier than usual, growing quieter with every passing tick of the clock, until finally there were only a few stragglers left, most of them older students, studying by the warmth of the fire.

The twins had detention (surprise, surprise), and the girls had all gone up to bed, knowing they had Potions first up in the morning, followed by Transfiguration – so they knew they needed all the rest they could get.

Winona seemed to be the only one not studying or sleeping, instead she sat curled in her usual spot near the window. Thick, woollen socks kept her feet warm, combating against the persistent chill of the breeze through the cracked window. She liked the cool, fresh air and the way it felt as it filled her lungs when she breathed. It cleared her head, which felt foggy at the best of times.

She was using simple pencils today, trying to get the profile of Professor McGonagall just right, and was barely paying any attention to the world around her, so lost in her work.

Until there was a squeak from in front of her, and she looked up in time to see a tiny little girl trip from the bottom step of the girls' dormitories. Blinking in surprise, she noted that the girl was carrying a blanket in her hands, her inky black hair tied up haphazardly in two small, uneven braids.

"Are you okay?" Winona asked before she could return to her sketching. She didn't have the heart to ignore the girl, especially with the way her eyes were watering as she stared back up at the stairs.

She turned, sniffling as she laid eyes on Winona. "Belinda and Jessie kicked me out of the dorm," she revealed with a huff, and Winona realised the tears weren't from sadness at all, but rather anger. The young girl turned her gaze to the ceiling as though her glare might burn a hole through the stone.

Assuming those were the other first years sorted into Gryffindor, Winona hummed. "Why?" she asked curiously, distractedly turning her eyes down to her sketch, but all the while keeping the majority of her focus on this girl, whose hands were balled into angry little fists.

"I spilled Jessie's nail polish," she admitted quietly, then turned to look at her, cheeks turning a soft pink. "I didn't mean to, I'm just clumsy," she added quickly, as though Winona too might condemn her for it.

"And they kicked you out for it?"

The girl nodded, slowly. "They're...unreasonable," she murmured, then cringed as her shoulders dropped, "or maybe they just hate me."

"They sound awful," Winona told her, angry on the girl's behalf. "I'll sic Fred and George on them – they can turn their hair green or something."

She lit up, eyes sparkling with glee at the thought of payback. "You're Winona, right?" she asked, and Winona refocused her attention on the girl.

"That's me."

"I'm Katie Bell," the first year revealed, stepping forwards and holding out a hand to shake. Bemused, Winona reached out and grasped it, shaking delicately. Katie pulled away with a sigh, turning to look at the couch with a pinched frown. "Guess I'll take the couch," she muttered, more so to herself than to Winona. "It's either that or the stairs..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Winona chided her, heart going out to the poor girl, whose shoulders were slumped in saddened defeat. She'd been kicked out of enough bedrooms in her life to know how much it sucked. If she could help, she was going to. "You can come sleep in my dorm."

Katie's eyes went wide. "But where will you sleep?"

"I'll bunk with Alicia," she said with a careless shrug. It didn't matter to her where she slept, she'd probably only get a few restless hours anyway.

Katie frowned and Winona could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, trying to come up with a reason to decline. Winona wasn't having any of it, she wasn't going to let this first year sleep in the common room because her dorm mates were being bitches. Besides, if the twins came back and spotted her sleeping on the couch, she'd wake up with a face covered in ink.

"Seriously, Katie," she said, deciding she might as well give sleep a try and shoving her things into her bag, "come on, the others won't mind."

Katie still seemed hesitant, but she didn't argue as Winona led the way up the stairs and to the right, opening the door that read _Second Years_ and stepping inside.

The girls weren't asleep yet. Hope and Alicia were each on their beds with their Transfiguration textbooks, and Angelina was brushing her long hair at the foot of her bed. "Hey guys," she greeted them, shuffling over so Katie could step inside. "This is Katie," she introduced them, and the girls all paused their activities to peer at the newcomer closely. "Her dorm mates kicked her out for spilling some nail polish, so I told her she could crash with us."

Her friends were all silent for a moment, and Katie looked nervous until Angelina stepped forwards to introduce herself. "That's awful," she said kindly. "I'm Angelina. You're welcome to use my bed. I can bunk with Winnie."

"Two steps ahead of you, Angie," Winona said brightly, dropping her bag at the foot of her own bed before leaping onto Alicia's mattress with all the grace of a mermaid, landing and sinking back into the pillows with a sigh.

Alicia squeaked as Winona sent her homework flying, but quickly straightened it up and settled for rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Katie giggled quietly and Angelina stood to her feet and moved over to the girl, shutting the door behind her and leading her over to Winona's unoccupied bed, chattering happily. "So you're a first year? Were you Muggleborn, or did you always know you were a witch?"

"Half-blood," Katie revealed sheepishly, taking a seat on Winona's bed and wrapping her thick blanket around her shoulders, smiling at Angelina who took a seat on the mattress beside her. "My mum and dad are magical, but both of them are Muggleborn."

"And how do you like Hogwarts?"

"It's amazing."

"Are you glad to be in Gryffindor?"

"Well-"

"Geez, Ange," Winona said with a roll of her eyes. "The girl came here to sleep, not fill out a questionnaire."

"It's okay, really," Katie insisted in a meek but somewhat hopeful sort of voice. "It's actually the most anyone's spoken to me since I got here."

There was a brief silence, none of the other girls knowing how to reply. Ange was the one to break the awkward quiet. "Well, you'd better get used to it," she said slyly. "Being friends with us is going to set you up for the loudest seven years of your life."

Katie beamed so wide it looked like her cheeks would split, but it didn't seem to bother her. She laughed to herself as Alicia wandered over with a box of Every-Flavour Beans in her hands, offering them to the girl with a grin.

"As a rule, we never pick the green ones," Angelina warned with a chuckle. "The only one of us to ever get a good flavour is Blondie over here," she added with an exasperated nod in Winona's direction. "It's like she's been charmed to never pick a bad one or something, the bint."

The twins had a theory on this too, only theirs was more inner-eye related than a mere luck charm. Still, the running gag made her grin to herself fondly. She had a good feeling about Katie, the urge to befriend her coming from that unexplainable place within her, the same place that told her when to wear a jacket for the coming day, or which twin she was talking to when they switched sweaters for a laugh.

Katie would be good for them, she told herself, nodding as she leant back into the pillows, listening to the other girls chatter with a smile on her face.

The girls took to Katie with surprising enthusiasm. Alicia took the girl under her wing almost immediately, helping her with homework when she had the time and always offering her a place to sit during meals. The twins gave the first-year a bit of shit at first, but when Winona took them aside and chastised them, telling them sternly that the girl was bullied by her dorm mates and then slyly suggesting some prank ideas in retaliation, they changed their tune, welcoming the younger witch with fervour, ruffling her hair playfully every time she wandered past.

Katie was beyond thrilled when, as promised, her dorm mates slunk embarrassedly into the Great Hall with acid green hair and eyebrows, much to the school's amusement.

Things were good, Winona found. They were easy. Sure, classes were as challenging as ever – particularly the ones based more on theory – but there was a predictability that came with being at Hogwarts.

Angelina and Alicia could always be found by the fire, halfheartedly attempting to study as they laughed together about something or other, munching on the cookies that Ange's mum sent every other week. Katie was usually with them, shyly taking the offered cookies and telling them stories of her little brother, who had yet to show signs of magic, though it didn't stop him from jumping off of things and trying to make toys fly. Hope preferred to hole up in the dorm, head stuck in a book, _wholeheartedly _studying every word, and re-writing her essays until she deemed them perfect.

Lee could be found either in the common room or by the lake, usually sleeping, because he just slept at all hours of the day. Winona could only _dream_ about getting that much sleep a week.

The twins were more difficult to find – with them it was usually more a case of '_you_ don't find _us – we_ find _you_'. They liked to spend their free time exploring the castle, and since they usually had the Marauder's Map with them, it was rare that Winona knew where they'd be.

It wasn't like they weren't around, though. Often they'd pop up out of nowhere, murmuring an excuse to whoever she was with and dragging her away to aid in their mischief. She was glad they seemed to gravitate towards her naturally, otherwise she worried she'd never see them at all.

At least they had classes together. She was always sitting near at least one of them, and they'd recently learnt how to charm paper swans to fly to a chosen target – a great method for sending notes during class.

They helped her with every big Transfiguration essay McGonagall gave them, since they actually knew what the hell was going on in that class, but other than that they spent little time talking about class, preferring to spend their time laughing about pranking irritating Slytherins and how ridiculous Snape would look with luminescent pink hair.

So Winona was happy, and she was sure there was nothing that could possibly happen to break the pleasant haze of predictable normalcy that had quite abruptly claimed her and her friends. Until she broke her arm.

"Come on, Win – don't be such a crotchety old hag!" Fred crowed at her obnoxiously from where he was floating in the air above them, settled comfortably on a splintered old Shooting Star that trembled every time a particularly strong breeze filtered through the stands surrounding the Quidditch Pitch.

"That felt unnecessarily rude," Winona muttered even as she stuffed her pencil into her bag and pushed it into the shade. Sighing as though she was being asked to do something unpleasant – although it was really the opposite – she held a hand out over the spare broom laying on the grass. With a murmur of command, it flew into her palm, and she curled her fingers around the handle, gripping it firmly and feeling it tremble in her hand, like it were more eager to get into the air than she was.

Fred, George, Alicia and Ange all hovered above her, lazily tossing a Quaffle amongst themselves, each trying to throw the others off their game, all in good fun.

Angelina had made the Quidditch team – Chaser – but Alicia was only a reserve. She wasn't too upset by this decision, knowing it likely meant a secured position on the team the year after. She still liked to practise and make sure she was up to scratch, just in case one of the other Chasers couldn't play and Wood called her into the game.

So every now and then, if they could spare the time and the weather wasn't too bad, they'd take to the Pitch, more often than not coercing Winona down with them, badgering her until she took a spare broom and joined them in the air.

It wasn't that much of a hardship – she really did love to fly – but she liked to make it difficult for them.

"Took you long enough!" George goaded her, using one hand to catch the Quaffle thrown by Ange, then barely waiting a beat for Winona to get settled on her broom before tossing it at her, making her squeak as she lunged to catch it.

"What were you working on?" Alicia asked as Winona threw the Quaffle directly up into the air, swooping down to catch it before reappearing beside her with a smile. "That Transfiguration essay or a new sketch idea?"

"What do you think?" Winona countered, watching as she tossed the ball at the twins, who both dived for it at the same time, only barely avoiding a collision in the process. Fred came out triumphant, holding it up like a trophy and making a crude comment that made his twin snicker.

They were barely playing the Wizard version of catch for five minutes before there was a shout from the Pitch below. The five of them paused, the Quaffle held casually underneath Angelina's arm. A group of Slytherin fourth-years were positioned below them, a group of stocky boys and a lone, thin girl, who seemed to be chewing gum as she stared up at them in contempt.

"Can we help you, Crow-face and Friends?" Fred sniped, scowling down at them, directing the brunt of his disdain at the leader, a tall but thickset bloke named Crowley, whose favourite past time was cornering first-years and forcing them to give him the contents of their pockets. He was a bully, and they'd all copped the same treatment from him the year before. He mostly left them alone now that they were second-years, but he never forgot the twins, who didn't let him get away with his bullying for even a moment. He'd probably been on the receiving end of more pranks than Snape and Ron combined.

"You're on our Pitch," Crowley spat. Winona noted they all had sleek, expensive looking brooms, ones that looked like they weren't about to crumble into dust, like all of theirs.

"Don't see your name on it," George countered without missing a beat.

"There aren't any reservations on the Pitch today, Crowley," Angelina said with bewildering patience, edging closer to interrupt, probably in an attempt to try and avoid the oncoming fight. "I checked."

"You think we care about the reservations?" the girl asked around her mouthful of gum, the smacking sound of it making Winona cringe.

"You don't get to just _show_ up and take the Pitch," Alicia interjected, a wary, fearful sort of glint to her eyes. But her Gryffindor courage was stronger than her sense of doubt, and it was nearly enough to make Winona grin.

"Who's gonna stop us?" Crowley asked tauntingly, a superior glint to his beady eyes, like it were a fight he'd already won.

"Come now, children," Winona said in a tired voice, her exasperation clear. "No need to talk in circles." Crowley glowered at her like he were attempting to set her alight without a wand. "We'll be done in an hour or so, surely you can wait," she added simply. The lead bully's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace.

"I've got a better idea," he spat, hand disappearing into his robes and reappearing with his wand clutched in stubby fingers. Winona barely had a moment to register what was happening before the Slytherin was firing a hex in her direction. She slipped from her broom with a yelp, and felt herself fall through the air, her stomach flying into her throat at the sudden drop.

There were shouts from all around her, but they were mostly just a clump of noise to her muddled head. A beat passed before she was slamming into the hard earth, hands braced out instinctually to catch her fall. The subsequent snap was even louder than the scared shouts of her friends, but she couldn't hear either beyond the screaming pain that rattled up her arm like Fiendfyre.

She may or may not have cursed through her cry of pain, she was in too much pain to be able to tell. There were more shouts from around her, but all she could do was stare down at her forearm, where she could see something hard jutting out from underneath her skin, the bone within snapped in two.

Blackness appeared at the edge of her vision, and she was more than happy to give into the urge to pass out, hoping she at least wouldn't be able to feel the pain while she was unconscious.

When she came to, her arm was aching only slightly, like she'd sketched for too long without pausing to stretch. She was on something soft, and without opening her eyes she sighed and relaxed back into the pillows.

"Miss Andrews?" an unfamiliar voice was saying, a hand gently tapping at her face. Winona let out a frustrated groan, reluctant to wake up fully. "She's coming around now," the voice said again, and she grumbled as she cracked open her eyes.

She was surrounded by her friends, which was always nice, but quickly she realised that the sterile burn of disinfectant she could smell was painfully familiar, and the unfamiliar woman leaning over her left side was wearing what was obviously a nurse's uniform.

Flying into a sitting position, Winona went into autopilot, scrambling to get free of the bed. The nurse looked more than slightly alarmed by her sudden panic, stepping even closer, her hands pressing firmly against the twelve-year-old's shoulders, pushing her back down into the bed.

"Let me _go_!" Winona screeched, desperate to get free.

"Winona!" the twins' voices were shouting, but she was beyond the point of listening.

"Stop it!" Winona shrieked at the nurse, the dread in her stomach heavy and hot, like the burning coals of a raging bonfire. It ran through her veins like a poison, urging her to get up and away from the terrifying situation she was put it.

She thrashed harder at the nurse, who finally stepped back and held her hands up in something like surrender, probably deciding it wasn't worth the trouble. Winona didn't spare a moment to glance at her friends, just leapt unsteadily from the bed and bolted for the doors, trying to stay upright even as her head swam from the abrupt change of position.

Thankfully they hadn't taken off her shoes, and she was still dressed in her jeans and teeshirt, though if she hadn't been, it honestly wouldn't have stopped her. The soles of her beaten up Chucks slapped against the stone floor and her breath came in sharp puffs and she ran as fast as she could, desperate to get as far away from that awful hospital wing as possible.

Images of sterile white rooms and long needles and hours and hours of nothing but suffocating silence swept through her head. She could barely take it, the scars that littered her body beginning to burn, the mere memory of getting them enough to reawaken the long-gone pain. Gritting her teeth against the influx of painful memories, Winona found herself too weak to keep running, coming to a rather sudden stop in one of the random corridors of the castle.

She was somewhere near the Charms classroom, but thankfully it was a Saturday and nobody was around to see her collapse against the wall, hand pressed over her racing heart, which she could hear pounding in her ears.

"Win?"

Flinching violently at the sound, Winona whirled around with a gasp, staring at the approaching Weasley twin with wide, panicked eyes. The concern and bewilderment in his blue eyes was enough to shock her from her stupor, and she blinked, coming back to herself much like she might after a particularly violent vision.

"Fred?" she murmured, reaching up to scrub at her eyes, which she was relieved to find weren't leaking. _That _would have been too embarrassing to ever recover from.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, staring at her with a rare frown on his face, the expression one she wasn't used to seeing from her mischievous best friend, so accustomed to his usual blinding grin.

"Fine," she lied with as straight of a face as she could manage, hoping she could play her extreme reaction off as nothing – although that wasn't likely. Her heart was still racing, and she took a deep breath to try and slow it.

"Come on, Win," Fred pressed, and Winona decided that standing up was too difficult, sighing loudly as she let herself slide downwards until she was curled on the floor, head tipped back against the hard stone of the wall behind her.

She took the next few beats to consider her words, eyes closing as she focused, desperately trying to keep her mind from the images of destructive violence that infiltrated her nightmares on the worst of nights. She felt Fred settle onto the cold ground beside her, his lanky body folding in on itself in an attempt to get closer to her, a silent comfort that made the edging panic within her finally begin to recede.

"Ever since we met, you've avoided the hospital wing like you're afraid Pomfrey's going to scalp you in your sleep," he said, matter-of-fact while still being gentle.

Despite herself, Winona couldn't help the way her lips curved upwards in a wry smile. "It's a long story," she muttered dismissively, bringing her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around her legs in small hug.

Fred made a big show of checking up and down the corridor, then peering at his wrist – which was comically bare of a watch. "We've got time," he finally said, and this time she laughed, the sound rather sad, but real all the same.

She didn't want to talk about it – she never did – but she felt like she owed Fred an explanation. He deserved to know why he'd had to patch her up with nothing but tap water and ripped clothing for the past year and a half.

"You know that some of my foster families haven't been..." she began, the words trailing off as she struggled to find the right way to phrase it. From beside her she felt Fred tense up, already beginning to fill in the blanks. "Well, once when I was seven, I had a _really_ bad foster dad. I wasn't exactly an easy kid to control. I was angry at everything, started fights with everyone I could, despite being barely out of my toddler years – and he just couldn't deal. Used to..." she stopped again. She couldn't make herself say it.

Glancing up, she saw that Fred's expression was hard, zero flicker of warmth in his suddenly cold eyes. When he noticed her looking he rearranged his expression into something softer, but she could still see the steel glinting from beneath it all.

"He liked to hit me," she told him quietly, the words spilling from her mouth. "Just for fun. I was small and defenceless and I guess it made him feel more powerful or something...I don't pretend to understand."

She couldn't look at him any more, turning away to stare at the wall opposite them, her eyes glazed over with painful memories of the past.

"Anyway, long story short, one time he hit me too hard. He cracked my skull open and I had to go to the hospital. I had an awful concussion – spent the whole time there freaking out. I was so bad they had to strap me to the bed."

She swallowed, rolling her sore wrist around in a circle.

"Hospitals, doctors, the smell of disinfectant – it all makes me feel like that little seven year old, strapped down in a hospital bed surrounded by strangers, not knowing where she was."

Fred said nothing and the silence threatened to suffocate Winona, who chewed on her tongue until she tasted blood. She was too afraid to look up and gauge his expression, so she kept her eyes on her legs.

"I bet the others think I'm bonkers," she muttered, wondering why her life had to be so difficult. Would she always be doomed to be the crazy one of the group? It was bad enough she was a freak of nature as the first true Seer in a generation – why did she have to be so _weird_ on top of it all?

"No more than usual," Fred told her, speaking for the first time in awhile. There was a lightheartedness to his voice that didn't quite match up with their topic of conversation.

She forced herself to look away from the rips in her jeans and meet Fred's eyes, the colour that of the sky on a perfect summer's day. The warm glint of acceptance in them was comforting, and she felt the tension drain out of her coiled muscles. She was reminded that he cared, more than she'd known was possible, and for the millionth time since meeting them last year on the train, she thanked the stars for the Weasley twins.

"Thanks for telling me that, Win," Fred said softly, and the moment was tender and sweet in a way she couldn't quite understand. "I had no idea. I just thought you didn't like the taste of the potions."

Despite herself Winona let out a peal of unrestrained laughter, and Fred grinned like he'd won a prize.

She settled down again, leaning back, head tapping against the stone wall. "You know, you shouldn't let your fear control you like that," he said conversationally. Her pulse spiked and, confused, she looked over at him to see him staring at the ceiling in thought. "I understand why you're scared, but don't you think you should try and conquer the fear?"

That was the last thing Winona wanted to do, but even she had to admit he had a point. "What do you suggest?" she murmured distantly. It was strange how they were discussing her deepest fears like they were simply deliberating what flavour jam to have on their toast the next morning. But she liked it – it made it feel like less of a big deal.

Fred seemed surprised by the question, like it hadn't been his idea in the first place. "I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something," he shrugged. Winona rolled her eyes. "Really, I'll have you dancing through the hospital wing within days. You just watch."

"My hero," she teased, and the thick atmosphere that had enveloped the corridor evaporated, replaced by a comfortable, warm glow. "So what, you drew the short wand and had to come running after me?" she asked, edging closer, finding Fred warm against the unforgiving chill of the castle's stone floor.

"Oh yeah," he nodded his head solemnly. "George argued that he handled your last mental breakdown – so it was my turn, or I had to make his bed for the whole summer."

"Couldn't have that," she agreed seriously. Fred climbed to his feet, dusting off his threadbare pants before holding out a hand for her to take. In a single, effortless tug he yanked her to her feet, and she smiled at him gratefully, feeling a million times better than when she'd left the hospital wing. "Hey, what happened to that arsehole Slytherin and his idiot lackeys?" she asked as they slowly began to make their way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

Fred's expression darkened, storm clouds appearing in his perfect-sky eyes, and Winona regretted asking. "Well, let's just say that George and I have a week of detention, but that it was worth it to see Crowley covered in boils," he said, voice carefully measured, like he were holding back a range of vile insults.

She wouldn't have minded he let loose, but he probably thought she was fragile enough with her whole panic attack in the hospital wing, so she let it go. Besides, she was smart, and she didn't need any more details to work out exactly what had happened after she'd passed out.

"So what are we gonna tell the gang?" Fred asked, voice returning to something more conversational, the storm disappearing from his eyes as they cleared into their usual summer sky. He noted the confusion on her face and rolled his eyes like she were the one not making any sense. "Well, obviously we're not gonna reveal your tragic backstory to the others," he said like it was obvious, and though she probably should have been hurt by his blasé comment, instead she found comfort in it, lips tipping up in a smile. "I like being the only one who knows," Fred admitted suddenly. "Besides, we both know Alicia couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it. Tell her and the whole school'll know by morning."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," she told him with a shrug. "Just try not to make me look _too _crazy, yeah?" she added, genuinely surprised by how light she felt. It was as though telling Fred had lifted the weight of it from her chest, like it wasn't a burden she bared alone. Not anymore.

"Winona, my dear," Fred began dramatically, tossing an arm over her shoulder and tugging her companionably into his side, "you do that _plenty_ enough, all on your own."


	6. There is a method to her madness

Professor Emily Wilton was as beautiful as she was brilliant. She had long, curly hair and skin the colour of fresh coffee beans. Her eyes were piercing, and she spoke with an Italian accent that made even _McGonagall_ swoon.

She was that year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and everyone thought she was _beyond_ cool. The twins in particular were completely bewitched by her, and Winona thought it was hilarious to watch them squabble and trip over one another to gain her attention in class. It wasn't just the boys who loved her; Wilton gave out pieces of vanilla fudge if a student gave a particularly clever answer to a question, and she was patient with those who had trouble learning the theory side of things, like Winona herself.

"Miss Andrews?" the Professor's lilting voice asked as the bell rang throughout the castle, the scattered group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs leaping to their feet, shoving their things into their bags and heading for the door, chattering excitedly about the upcoming Halloween feast. "Do you have a minute?" she asked, and Winona's pulse quickened as she nodded.

"Want us to wait?" Angelina offered kindly, but Winona was already shaking her head.

"I know you want to get started on that essay," she said with a shrug. "I'll just meet you in the common room."

Nodding, Angelina took Alicia's arm and the pair wandered out the door after the twins, who were obnoxiously wondering aloud whether Winona had been caught sketching Snape in women's clothing again. Winona grinned, padding her way up towards Wilton's desk, which had a few framed photos lining the edge and a couple sculptures of what looked like reconstructed rat bones.

"Everything okay, Professor?" she asked, mind racing. _Had_ she been sketching in class? She didn't think she was, but sometimes her hands moved without her even realising. Or maybe her last essay on the differences between Cornish and Irish Pixies wasn't passable.

That wouldn't have surprised her, she'd put maybe twenty minutes of research into it before giving up and bullshitting the whole thing. She'd thought she'd done an okay job, but Wilton was smart and not as easy to fool as Flitwick or Snape (who she didn't _actually_ think she ever fooled; she just figured he didn't give enough of a shit to bother calling her out on it).

"I wanted to talk about your work in class lately," their beautiful teacher said, and Winona suddenly felt like a scolded child, and ducked her head shyly. The last thing she wanted was the cool new teacher thinking she was an idiot. "It's nothing bad. Don't look so afraid, Winona," she said with a light laugh. Winona's cheeks warmed. "Take a seat," she added, absentmindedly flicking her wand, a chair sliding into place on the other side of her desk.

Sinking into the comfortable chair, Winona smoothed out her skirt and hoped it wasn't obvious that her feet were tapping anxiously.

"Winona, I've noticed you've been struggling with the theory side of my classes," Wilton said, getting straight to the point. Swallowing, Winona remained silent, not knowing what to say. The woman smiled and picked up her jar of vanilla fudge. Wary but not about to turn down free fudge, Winona took a piece and plopped it on her tongue. "You seem to struggle mostly with comprehension."

Winona hated that she had to ask, knowing it was going to make her look like an idiot. "What does that mean?"

"It means you read things, but then your brain doesn't retain them, or you don't understand what you've read as easily as other people," Professor Wilton explained patiently. Shifting uncomfortably, Winona processed this slowly. "I studied education at university-" she continued, only to break off with a frown, "you're Muggle-born, aren't you?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Half-blood," Winona corrected tentatively.

"Good," she beamed, white teeth perfectly straight and gleaming, making Winona self-conscious about the gap between hers. "Then you'll know what I'm talking about," she added with something of a laugh. "I studied it at uni, and I had a unit on learning disabilities – I'm not saying you have a disability!" she quickly insisted when Winona's eyes went wide with the word. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, but it _was_ a rather heavy thing to be told after a long day of classes on Halloween, with little lead up to the revelation. "It's just a technical term. I'm no expert, Winona, but I just wanted to let you know that I'd noticed, and that I'm here to help if you need any extra help with your work."

Winona sat in silence for a few beats, listening to the clicking of the grandfather clock in the corner and chewing on the teacher's words carefully. "I do have trouble," she finally confessed, averting her gaze to her hands, which were tangled together in her lap. "I'll read things and they just won't...make sense."

"Does it help when things are explained to you verbally?"

Winona nodded her head. "It's always easier when someone talks it through with me," she admitted, twisting the muggle mood ring that Angelina had given her for her last birthday around her finger, watching as it turned a murky green. "I've never been so great with written words."

"There's no shame in asking for help, Winona," said the professor kindly, "if that's what you need."

Winona considered her words, but knew the last thing she wanted anyone finding out she needed extra tutoring in only her second year. Besides, she wasn't doing _that_ badly. "I think I'm okay for now, Professor," she said, her voice quiet as she glanced sheepishly down at her purple-stained hands.

"But you'll let me know if that changes?" Glancing back up, Winona nodded her head in agreement. Professor Wilton smiled sweetly. "Okay," she said gently before nodding at the door. "Why don't you head on out – I'll see you next lesson."

Thanking her meekly, Winona climbed to her feet and left the classroom, winding her way back through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower.

The common room was abuzz with activity, everybody excited for that evening's Halloween feast. Winona darted through a gap in the crowd and snatched herself a vacated chair by the cracked window, pulling out her well-used sketchbook and flipping to a new page.

Sometimes she was able to feel a vision coming. It would be like a pressure in her mind or a flicker at the back of her eyes. But this was not one of those times.

She was simply sitting there, trying to decide between using charcoal or graphite for her next sketch, when suddenly everything died away. The sounds of the room disappeared, replaced by a hollow ringing. The light of the fire vanished and instead a series of images flashed across her vision, too fast to process.

With the episode came a feeling of intensity, a rush of panic that wasn't her own. Somebody was in serious danger; or at least they would be, sometime in the future.

Where her physical body had seemed to disappear with the onslaught of the vision, it reappeared with a heavy thump, like she'd been thrown back into the present time, gravity reaffirming itself with an unforgiving bang.

She blinked back to herself, clearing her throat as she instinctually turned down to see what she'd predicted. "Welcome back," said a voice in her ear before she could get a good look, and she glanced up to see George reclined by her side, arms folded casually behind his head, looking for all the world like he were simply lounging about – not guarding a temporarily-blind Seer.

"How long?" she asked, voice quiet.

"About ten minutes, once I found you," he replied, still reclined in the ultimate position for relaxation. He met her eyes, a glint of concern in his own. "All right?" he checked, simple and to the point, but she understood.

"All right," she nodded before finally turning to look at the glimpse of the future she'd created.

It was the Harry Potter boy again. He was crouched beside a dozing Ginny Weasley, and there seemed to be blood dripping from his arm. This was strange, sure, but usually when she drew him he was beaten up in some various fashion, so it wasn't completely unexpected.

"Harry Potter again?" George asked, casting the sketch a narrow-eyed look. The twins knew about her reoccurring visions of the young Potter boy – because they just knew everything about her. That was how it was; her partners in crime. "What is it about this kid that keeps you _seeing_ him?" he asked, his chair rocking back on two legs as he gave the room a cursory glance.

"No idea," she replied, turning the page to an unfinished sketch of an owl and halfheartedly returning to it, working on shading in its greying shadows. "Dumbledore says it's because he's got a _destiny_," she continued, hand moving up to slide the pencil into her hair for safe keeping before reaching for an eraser. "I dunno; the kid's got one bitch of a future coming his way, at any rate."

"He is covered in blood, more often than not," George mused. "Why was Ginny with him in this last one though?" he asked, voice turning cold with protective instinct. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Winona assured him, looking up from her work to meet his eyes, hoping to put his mind at ease, even though she could guarantee nothing. "Maybe they have a _thing_ in the future," she suggested slyly, if only to make the look of dark concern in his blue eyes disappear. "Maybe they get _married,_" she teased.

George gave a snicker. "Then Merlin help Harry Potter, the poor sod," he murmured. It was enough to send Winona into peals of laughter, tipping her head back against his shoulder as she giggled.

"What's this?" a sneering voice interrupted the mirthful atmosphere they'd created, and their laughter petered off as they turned to look at the newcomer, a familiar student with stringy, off-yellow hair. "Weasley and Andrews all over one another? What a surprise," Allison Leaker said dryly. "If you and Fred could keep the PDA to yourselves and not force it upon the people studying down here, that would be great," she finished with a toothy scowl.

Indignant, Winona pushed away from George to sit up properly, scowling at her in return. "First of all, this is _George_," she said slowly, like she were speaking to an idiot. "And I don't see anybody else complaining. Just because the sound of others' happiness makes your lonely, evil little ears bleed, doesn't mean it's the same for everyone else."

Leaker gave an ugly sneer, but Winona was unmoved, staring back without expression. "Watch yourself, Andrews," she finally spat, not bright enough to come up with a better retort. With a final jeer she spun around, her limp hair nearly slapping George in the face.

George gave a snort as she left, storming up the stairs towards the girls' dormitories with a loud series of unnecessary stomps. "You know she'll hex you for that," he chuckled, scratching at his temple as he relaxed once more in his chair.

"Let her try," Winona shrugged, turning back to her artwork, unperturbed.

"All this because she called you a trollop in your first year?" he asked, still amused.

"It doesn't matter that I spend all my time with blokes," she said without looking up. "I was _eleven_," she reminded him, "and you can't be a trollop at eleven."

"You can try," he replied brightly.

Snorting to herself, she yanked the pencil from her hair and blindly threw it in his direction. He yelped and a smile found its way onto her face.

Halloween passed without further incident. Winona continued her meetings with both Dumbledore and Trelawney, putting up with the herbs and incense the latter liked to burn throughout her classroom that made her head feel all foggy.

Soon autumn turned to winter, and Christmas was upon them.

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" asked George the night before the holidays began and all of her friends would be taking the Hogwarts Express back home for the week.

"I'll manage," she assured him with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

"You know, Allison Leaker's going to be staying at Hogwarts this year, too," said Fred, undeniably concerned.

Winona scowled. "I'll just avoid her."

"And if she seeks you out?"

"I'll hex her without a second thought."

"How'd she even get into Gryffindor, anyway?" George wondered, swiping a handful of Every Flavour Beans from the box in Winona's lap. "You'd think she belonged in Slytherin, or at the very least, Ravenclaw."

"How many time do I need to tell you?" asked Angelina from where she was sat cross-legged on the carpet below the couch they were sat on in the common room. "Which House you're sorted into has nothing to do with temperament. It's all about what you _value_."

George scowled. "Well, she makes us look bad."

And Angelina certainly couldn't argue with him there.

The twins and the rest of their gang left on the train the next morning, leaving Winona all alone at Hogwarts.

Allison Leaker was the only other Gryffindor staying over the break – plus a handful of Ravenclaws and a lone Hufflepuff. Winona stayed away from the common room – she wasn't afraid of Leaker, but she didn't feel like being forced into a fight she didn't want to have. She was trying to fight _less_, not more.

She spent most of her free time hanging out in the astronomy tower, laid on the floor with a scattering of art supplies surrounding her, charcoal and watercolour staining her hands. It was peaceful, and she enjoyed the endless quiet – so rare at a place like Hogwarts.

Because of the break, Dumbledore suggested she see Professor Trelawney more frequently, since she had so much spare time. She didn't want to say no – mostly because she knew it made sense – and so she went reluctantly.

Trelawney pushed her to her limits without seeming to realise she was doing it, and Winona shuffled back to the dorms exhaustedly after each tiring session, no closer to understanding her precognitive abilities than when she'd begun.

The night before her friends were due back at the school, she fell into a vision just before bed.

It wasn't a violent one, but rather gentle, quiet and somehow welcoming, like coming home after a long day. She couldn't see anything clearly, but she could feel warmth and care wrapping around her like a blanket.

Coming back to the present, she found yet another sketch of the young Harry Potter on the page before her. It was like the aether that surrounded everything in the world – even time – was trying to tell her something about him.

_He'll be so important_, she could almost hear it whispering in her ear as she stared down at the boy on the page, _not just to the world, but to you._

Harry Potter wasn't doing anything particularly special in her prediction. He was sitting at a frosted over window, running his fingers down the feathers of that snowy owl she so often saw him with. He looked happy on the surface, smiling down at something outside the window that she couldn't see, but deep in his eyes there was a sadness – one she almost felt she could understand.

He seemed lonely.

"I just don't get it," she complained to Dumbledore the next day, sitting on a chair in his office, munching halfheartedly on a jammy dodger. "I know he's meant to have this great destiny – but I'm seeing this kid all the time, sir. It's like I'm trying to tell myself something. Like a warning; but not a bad one."

"What are you asking me, Miss Andrews?" asked Dumbledore patiently, eyes glittering behind the glass of his spectacles.

She shuffled forwards on the chair, meeting his stare imploringly. "It feels like we're _connected_ somehow, but I can't figure out how that would be possible."

Something came to her, sharp and unexpected, and she couldn't stop the words from escaping her lips even if she'd wanted to.

"Who were his parents?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked up towards his snowy hair, but otherwise he didn't react. "They were Lily and James Potter. Both students at Hogwarts; both in Gryffindor."

"You knew them?"

"I did."

She chewed on her next words carefully. "What was his mother's maiden name?" she finally asked. Once the question was out there, there was nothing that could be done to take it back. And Dumbledore was staring at her with absolute _pity_ in his eyes, and it made her want to go find some dusty corner of the castle to hide in and never resurface again.

"Her maiden name was Evans," he told her carefully. He spoke extra slowly, ensuring there was no confusion. "Lily was in no way blood related to you, Winona. I'm sorry."

Winona grimaced, looking away. It'd been a long shot anyway. "I just get the feeling that I _know_ him," she said stubbornly. "Like I've seen him somewhere before."

"Maybe you simply see him so often in your visions, you can no longer tell the difference," the old headmaster suggested, voice thready and soft. She didn't like the sound of that, but it was as close to a plausible theory as she'd come in months.

"Maybe," she finally said, quiet and unconvinced.

"You rarely ask after your own parents," Dumbledore said suddenly, and the words surprised her so much that she had no idea how to respond. "I'd have thought you'd have wanted to know everything you could."

Winona's mouth went dry. "You knew them?"

"Yes."

The knowledge of this weighed on her heavily, but that same wall she'd always kept built up was strong and unyielding in her head. "I know their names," she shrugged, reaching down to tug at a loose thread on her robes. "I know they were magical, and both in Gryffindor. Beyond that, there really isn't much I need to know."

Dumbledore eyed her like she were a particularly stubborn puzzle, and she met his probing gaze with a flat stare of her own. "Why is that?" he asked, as if knowing the answer to this might help him understand her more.

"They're dead and gone. Learning about who they were would only hurt. I'd miss them more. At least this way they remain distant figures – people I love because I should, not because I know who they were. It's…easier…that way," she whispered.

Dumbledore's sapphire eyes never left hers. "That's an awfully lonely way to look at it," he said quietly, not quite a judgement on her. More an observation.

"Yeah," she agreed, and left it at that.

The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime, and Dumbledore broke his stare to glance at it, a liveliness returning to his eyes. "The rest of the school will have been back for some time, now," he reminded her. "I believe your friends will be looking for you."

Winona stood from the chair, stuffing what remained of her uneaten jammy dodger into her mouth. "See you later, professor," she said around her mouthful, slinging the strap of her threadbare bag over her shoulder and making for the door.

"Winona," called Dumbledore before she could leave. Hand on the handle, she turned to look. He was staring back at her intensely. "It doesn't do to get so busy with life that you can't find the time to dream," he told her softly. "Dreaming is what makes life worth living. You should know that better than most, as an artist."

Winona wasn't so sure she agreed, but she just nodded at the headmaster and left.

The common room was packed when she got back, everybody lingering and catching up again after the holidays. The twins were easy to spot. The loudest in the room, they were stood in front of a small group of their friends, going through what looked like some kind of mime routine to retell their antics over the break.

She joined their rapt audience, and the two were so caught up in their story that they didn't even notice she was there until they finished with theatrical bows and she stuck her fingers in her mouth to whistle loudly.

"Win!" they cheered, and just like that she was swung up into a bear hug by George. She hugged him back, then laughed as he spun her with a flourish into Fred's arms. Leaping onto him, she hugged him tightly, briefly feeling his heartbeat beneath his thin sweater.

"Did you catch the end of the performance?" Fred asked eagerly.

"I think you're becoming too predictable," she replied, letting him go and tilting her head back to grin at him. "If you're gonna keep on pranking Ron, I reckon you should find some new material, rather than just spiders."

"But you know what they say…" said George.

"If it ain't broke…" finished Fred.

Rolling her eyes, Winona was distracted by the appearance of Lee, who swept her up in a quick hug before presenting her with a sugar quill to work on leading up to that night's feast.

There would be time to tell the twins about her encounter with Dumbledore later. For now, she was just happy to enjoy all her friends' company once more, and listen to the tales of their holidays and pretend hers hadn't been lonely and sad in comparison.

The days blended into weeks blended into months, and everything was much the same. The twins got a whole month's detention for mixing fireworks into one of their potions in Snape's class and nearly blinding half the class – it'd taken almost three days for Winona to stop seeing white spots in her vision, but the twins kept swearing up and down that it'd been worth it just to see Snape's face.

March came quickly, and before Winona knew it, it was her birthday.

"We have to do _something_," said Fred with the kind of conviction usually reserved for church.

"Yeah," agreed George fervently. "It's not every day a witch turns thirteen."

"Okay, fine," she relented, ten minutes into an argument that was getting her nowhere. "You can plan something. But it has to be _small_."

It was the opposite of small.

Walking into the common room after dinner the next night, Winona was horrified to find the whole room done up in poorly-crafted hand-made decorations and an assortment of sweets that made her teeth ache just looking at them.

"Happy Birthday!" the twins crowed as a series of miniature fireworks exploded in floral patterns above their heads. Well, she thought, this explained why they'd been missing during dinner. "Party on us! Rokka – hit the music!"

The rest of the Gryffindor's in the room cheered and began to head for the food just as there was the scratchy sound of a record player, followed quickly by the latest Weird Sisters song.

"I thought we agreed on _small_," she said once she'd fought her way through the already-dancing older students to reach the twins, disapproval lacing her voice.

"This is small," argued George.

"Yeah," agreed Fred. "We _could've_ had it in the Great Hall."

Winona rolled her eyes hard enough to give herself a headache. "You're _impossible._"

"Why, thank you," said Fred with a deep, dramatic bow.

She danced halfheartedly with the twins, then managed to escape to go munch on the food drinks that the House Elves had supplied. She was just sipping on something fizzy and sweet when Alicia appeared, bringing her into a side-hug while she kept on dancing. Struggling to keep from spilling her drink, Winona squeezed her back.

"This is the best party since Angelina's in October," she called over the music, something Muggle that Winona recognised distantly.

"You know the twins," she replied. "They don't do things by halves."

It was all around a fun night, but when McGonagall finally came in and put a stern end to the party, Winona couldn't deny she was relieved. She wasn't good at being around people for so long; she was exhausted.

The majority of the dorm wandered happily up to their beds, but Winona sent her friends up ahead of her and instead took a heavy seat on the couch by the fire, enjoying the quiet that was such a contrast to the roar of noise of only moments ago.

The House Elves had cleared up after them with a few magical snaps of their fingers, and once the common room was immaculate once more, they apparated back down to the kitchens to do whatever it was they did with their spare time.

"So, best birthday party ever?" a voice piped up, and Winona was unsurprised when two bodies fell onto the couch on her either side.

She turned from one twin to the other, smiling. "Best birthday party ever," she confirmed quietly. The twins said nothing, seeming to sense there was more. "_Only_ birthday party ever, actually," she added, the confession coming easy. They wouldn't pity her, and she wanted them to know how much it meant to her that they'd gone to the trouble. "So, thank you."

"You've never had a birthday party before?" asked George, a frown in his voice.

"Well, I think I did when I was really little – before my parents died," she admitted. "I have this distant memory of being with people I loved, and a bright orange cake, and blowing out candles…"

She was faraway in a way she usually wasn't unless in a vision, but she was brought back to the present by a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at Fred. "Do you remember much?" he wondered quietly. "I mean, you were three when they died. You must remember something. What they looked like?"

She shut her eyes, trying to sort through the vague wisps of memory she had floating in her head.

"I just remember…" she trailed off, struggling to think. Her parents were faceless shadows, like echoes of people she felt she'd never known. "Dark hair," she said quietly. "They had dark hair."

She opened her eyes in time to see the twins exchange a glance. "Then how…?" asked George tentatively, reaching out to grasp a lock of her blonde hair, tugging at it gently.

Winona sighed. "No idea," she said quietly, brushing back her hair self-consciously. "Anyway," she continued, intentionally dismissive. "Thanks for the party."

"Any time, Win," said Fred, the words ringing with sincerity.

"Well, once a year, I should hope," she poked him playfully as she climbed to her feet. "I'll see you two in the morning."

"Ugh, we've got that Herbology essay due," groaned George.

Winona smiled. "Night, pixie-brains," she said in farewell, disappearing up the stairs to lose herself in her sketching and lock tightly away any and all thoughts of the life she'd once had.

April came and with it, the twins' birthday. It went by in much the same fashion as hers; a big party, lots of sweets and plenty of fun, and then before she knew it, the school year was nearly over and Winona and her friends were sitting for their exams.

Winona didn't tend to take exams all that seriously – but then Charlie Weasley got in her ear.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" came Charlie's voice as he took a seat in the open chair beside her in the library. The seventh-year leaned over her shoulder to peer at the sketch of some Cornish Pixies she was colouring in.

"Said the pot to the kettle," she replied without looking up.

"No, really," he continued impishly. "The library's here for a reason, isn't it? And I doubt that reason is to provide you with a quiet place to draw."

She raised her head and eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you and what have you done with Charlie?" she demanded. "Are you actually Percy on Polyjuice Potion? Be honest."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Funny," he drawled as he opened his bag and dug around inside for his Transfiguration textbook and a spare roll of parchment. "Look, I only say it out of concern."

"Concern?" she looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

"There was a kid in my year a few years ago," he began. "Walter Greene, he was called. He failed every exam they gave him in our third year and he got kicked out."

Winona went still. "You're telling me they'll actually toss you out if you don't pass final exams?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's been known to happen."

That night as Winona tried to get to sleep, she found herself tossing and turning, struck with an imagination that ran rampant.

She didn't expect to fail _every_ exam she took – she pretty much had Charms, Defence and Astronomy in the bag – but beyond that, it was all down to chance. What if she failed just enough exams to get thrown out of Hogwarts, the only place she'd ever felt safe and accepted?

Suddenly too anxious to sleep, Winona quietly gathered up her things and hurried down to the common room. It was late enough that everyone was upstairs getting a solid night's sleep for the day of exams ahead, so she had the common room all to herself.

She took a seat on the floor by the dwindling fire, spread out her Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology and History of Magic textbooks, and dived into her studies. She didn't come up for air at all, shifting from one subject to another, desperate to soak up as much knowledge as she possibly could in time for the exams the following morning.

That was how Fred and George found her the next morning. Coming downstairs, eyes bright with a good night's rest, they shared a look as they found Winona splayed out across the floor, ink stains on her fingers that for once had nothing at all to do with artistic purposes.

"Winnie?" asked Fred as they cautiously approached, treating her like a wild animal. She wondered what she must look like, to evoke such a strong reaction. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, carefully casual.

"Studying," she replied, reaching up to scrub at her dry eyes before turning her attention back to her History of Magic textbook, trying to make herself focus on a paragraph about the International Warlock Convention of 1289.

"It's-" he glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, "six-thirty in the morning, and you're telling me you woke up early to _study._"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "I never went to bed."

Fred turned to George, brow furrowed. "She's lost it."

George nodded solemnly. "Agreed."

"No, listen," Winona insisted, tearing herself from the page of the textbook – the letters had long since turned to gibberish anyway, "if I don't pass these exams, they could throw me out of Hogwarts! Shit, why didn't I study before now? I'm an idiot!"

She dropped her face to the piece of parchment she was taking notes on, letting out a loud groan that made the other students filtering past look down at her with pity. "Win," said George, crouching down and slipping his hands underneath her arms, gently dragging her upright. When she lifted her head back up she had a splattering of ink on her forehead, and George snorted in amusement as he used the end of his sleeve to wipe it away. "You're a mess."

"I know!" she squawked. "A mess who's gonna fail four out of seven of her exams abysmally and get thrown out of school in only her second year!"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Who got in your head?" he asked. "Was it Angelina?"

Winona huffed, glaring up at him grumpily. "Nobody 'got in my head'," she insisted. The twins looked unconvinced. "Charlie _may_ have mentioned something about a past student failing out of school in his third year-"

"You can't listen to Charlie!" argued Fred.

"Yeah, once when we were little he tried to convince us we were actually girls," added George, righteous irritation sparking in his eyes.

Winona considered that a moment. "…Did it work?"

The two were silent, telling her everything she needed to know. She was kept from reacting when Fred dived right back into his argument. "You're not going to flunk out of Hogwarts in your second year, Win," he said with surprisingly patience. "You're going to pass everything just fine."

"Except Potions," interjected George. "But that one doesn't count – Snape rigs it against us."

Winona didn't have it in her to snicker at his dark humour. She looked up at the twins, a vulnerability in her large eyes that stunned them. "What if I don't get to come back?" she whispered, as if she didn't want to castle overhearing and getting any ideas. "What if I don't get to be a witch anymore?"

Fred met her stare, compassion in his own. "That's not going to happen," he promised her. "We're not going to _let_ that happen. Are we, Georgie?"

"Right you are, Freddie," said George emphatically. "If they wanna kick you out, they'll have to go through us."

"And you know that's no easy task."

And finally they broke through her growing wall of anxiety. Nodding once as if to reassure herself, Winona smiled. "Thanks," she said, awkward but still wholly sincere.

"Come on," said Fred, knowing she didn't like people making a fuss. "Let's get down to breakfast and pump you full of caffeinated tea to get you through the day."

And that sounded a lot better than staying holed up in the common room, cramming until there was no space left in her brain to remember to get dressed, let alone list the twelve uses of dragon blood. "Sounds like a plan."

She got through the week of exams in one piece, and it was all Winona could do to breathe when she got her results.

She'd flunked Potions and Transfiguration, but she'd managed to score passing marks in her other subjects, and even got an O in Astronomy and an E in Defence and Charms. It wasn't so bad, and she felt even better when Charlie walked into the common room on the last day of school like purple ink staining his skin, like an ink bomb had gone off in front of his face – clearly curtesy of the twins.

Winona met with Dumbledore one last time before the end of the year, using the password to get access up to his office and knocking quietly on the large oak doors.

"Tea?" he offered, as he always did, and Winona nodded gratefully, watching as he waved a hand and the tea set about making itself. "You had the term's final lesson with Professor Trelawney the other night, didn't you?" he asked conversationally, taking a seat in his massive, ornate chair. "How did it go?"

"As well as it always goes," she replied, pulling at a loose thread on her bag, which sat balanced on her lap. A small teacup and saucer floated towards her and she plucked it from the air, taking a sip and sighing as it warmed her up.

"Have you learnt anything from her this year?" he wondered.

"Learned from her?" Winona echoed dubiously. "Bit hard to 'learn' from her when I'm doing everything I can to keep from pulling my hair out with boredom."

Although Dumbledore's lips curved up at the ends, the look in his eyes was disapproving. "There is a method to her madness, Miss Andrews," he said quietly, opening the lid to a small tin full of biscuits and offering it out to her.

"So you admit it's madness, then," she said triumphantly as she leaned over and picked out one filled with cream. Dumbledore just stared at her patiently, seeming to sense there was more to it than that, as he always did. Winona was stubborn, however, and just silently chewed her biscuit.

"Are you making no progress, then?" he asked persistently.

Winona sighed. "I wouldn't say that," she confessed. "I'm beginning to kind of make _sense_ of the visions when I have them. I still can't remember what I've seen beyond the picture I've drawn, but when I think back on the vision I've had, I can get a sense about it."

"In what regard?"

She took another sip of tea as she thought on how to answer. "If it's going to happen soon, I can feel an _urgency_ about it, like I know it's coming up quickly. Or if the person in the vision is scared, or lonely, I can sense that too." She paused, taking another bite of biscuit. "It's still nonsense at the time, though."

"Progress is still progress, no matter how seemingly insignificant," he told her gently.

She had to give him that; it was good advice.

"Do you have anything new you wanted to show me before you leave in the morning?" he asked, peering at her curiously from behind those half-moon spectacles.

"A few," she said, putting her tea on the desk and digging her sketchbook out of her bag. Dusting some pencil shavings off the cover before opening it to the right page and handing it over to the Headmaster.

He flicked through the images, each and every one of them centring on young Harry Potter. Standing beside his trunk looking lonely, sitting in a carriage with a boy whose face was turned from view, walking down a corridor in Hogwarts beside a girl with a massive head of dark, bushy hair.

"They're getting more frequent," she said quietly as the Headmaster finished making himself copies of her work. "Why do you think that is?"

"This July 31st, Harry Potter will be turning eleven years old," he revealed, a distant look in his eyes, like he were seeing something she couldn't. "Which means…"

"He'll be starting at Hogwarts next term," she finished knowingly.

"The time is coming when we will finally meet young Mr Potter, Winona," he explained with the solemn conviction of an adult who knew something she did not. "And that is when the real work begins."

"Work, sir?" she asked, frowning up at him in confusion.

Dumbledore's only answer was a hazy smile and a soft tutting noise. "You'd best be off," he said dismissively. "You need rest, I can see it in your eyes."

Winona lifted a hand to her face, self-consciously poking at the bags under her eyes. "I've been having trouble sleeping," she murmured.

"Since when?"

"Since birth."

Dumbledore didn't smile at her wit, he just nodded gravely, as if that certainly made sense to him. Winona smiled, tired all of a sudden, and stood to leave.

"Thanks for the tea, Professor," she said politely.

"My pleasure. Oh, and as with last year, Winona-"

"Write you if I have an important vision that I don't think can wait until September, and under no circumstances send my sketches to anyone by owl," she relayed with a nod of her head.

Dumbledore smiled, a touch more sincere that before. "Very good," he nodded, and turned back to his work.

But Winona had one more question. "Sir?" she asked, and he lifted his head with raised brows. "Is it true Professor Wilton is leaving Hogwarts this year?"

"It is."

"May I ask why?"

Dumbledore's sparkling eyes narrowed just a bit, as though considering whether to tell her the truth. "She had some commitments back home that required her attention," he finally said, and she wondered whether that was true or not.

"Oh," she murmured, looking away for a just a moment to grieve. She would miss Wilton – she'd cared about her students in a way Winona wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. It was refreshing. "Who will you be hiring to replace her?" she wondered.

"I've not yet chosen somebody to fill the role."

Winona frowned, a sudden wave of foreboding crashing over her. It was so strong it made her ears ring with silent noise, and she blinked at the force of it.

"Miss Andrews?" Dumbledore was asking, brow furrowed in concern.

She came back to herself. "I have a feeling that you should be careful who you allow within these walls, sir," she said without stopping to ask herself why.

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "What makes you say that?"

Winona smiled, but there was no mirth at all behind her eyes. "Just a feeling."

He seemed to sense this was a real, genuine warning, and she could tell he wanted to ask more. But he seemed to rightly sense that she had nothing more to give. "I'll take great care in my choices, Winona," he promised her with a bow of his head.

It was good enough for her. "See you next term, Professor," she said with a nod of her own, letting the door shut on Dumbledore's office for another year.

She and the twins snuck down to the kitchens around midnight, sitting by the massive fireplace to warm their extremities and laughing over tankards of butterbeer. It was the perfect way to end the school year, and when Winona stepped off the train the next day and walked back out into the Muggle world, she wasn't filled with dread for the coming months, but instead just an excitement for what was to come next.

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**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed; a little shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer. We'll also by moving onto Philosopher's Stone events in the next chapter, which is when the ball really starts rolling. We're not quite slowing down just yet, still brushing by these first few years - as it's mainly all exposition anyway. But we're getting close to the good stuff; I can taste it.**

**Let me know what you thought, and I'll see you in the next one! xx**


	7. You haven't totally lost your gobstones

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all your feedback. **

**Be aware that I'm introducing another OC in this chapter. His name's Adam, and he doesn't play a vitally important role, but still he has a specific purpose in the story and in Winnie's journey. Hope you enjoy!**

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Winona hadn't been allowed to go to the Burrow that summer. She'd gotten in a _lot_ of trouble for the stunt she'd pulled last year, when she'd run away in the middle of the night, leaving McGonagall to contact the Muggle authorities to assure them she was safe and at the Burrow.

She begged and begged to be allowed to go stay with the Weasley's instead of with her foster family, but her caseworker, a stern older woman named Agatha, told her in no uncertain terms that she didn't really have the right to go around asking for favours when she'd broken the rules and disappeared the year before.

So Winona sulked, spending her time either terrorising her foster parents, or writing to her friends and working on her art. She was in a new area, and actually made a friend or two with some of the local Muggles. Now that she had practise making friends at school, she was more comfortable doing so in the 'real world'.

Their names were Polly and Noah, and they introduced her into the world of graffiti. Maybe they weren't the best influences in the world, but Winona had grown up surrounded by abusive foster parents, so she figured the damage had already been long since done.

Polly and Noah were a year older than her, both fourteen. They were just as angry with the world as she was, coping the only way they knew how – misbehaving.

Once she was told she couldn't go see the Weasley's, that was when things got really bad.

Three fights and one police intervention later, she was put on house arrest by her foster parents and told that if she left she'd be getting a beating so intense she'd be confined to a wheelchair for weeks. She didn't listen, but they also didn't follow through with the threat, so she figured they were just all rotten liars.

She was so eager to get to the train on September 1st that she arrived nearly an hour early. She had her pick of the compartments, and once she'd chosen one she curled up against the window and trailed her fingertips across the sketches she'd made over the Summer. She'd had three episodes over break, resulting in three different sketches, each more confusing than the last.

The first was of a mirror, regal looking and empty. Along the top read _The Mirror of Erised_, but beyond that she had no clue what it was meant to mean. Next was a hole full of some kind of weed, vines crisscrossing over one another in a pit of Devil's Snare – they'd learnt about it in Herbology the year before, and Winona was only more confused by the picture. What did a pit of Devil's Snare have to do with her?

The last sketch was of Harry Potter. He was stood on the very platform she was sat at, scrawny as could be, wearing clothes that were at least five sizes too big for him. In the picture he was staring up at the train in wonderment, and just as she traced her fingers over the drawing she felt a prickle at her neck, telling her to look up.

Glancing away from her sketchbook and onto the platform, she felt the breath leave her lungs as she finally caught sight of the Boy-Who-Lived in the flesh.

In a perfect replica of her sketch, Harry Potter was stood just outside of her window, staring up at the train in shock. Winona stared at him, feeling like he was somehow so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

It was almost like she knew him, like they'd been friends for years – but she conceded that perhaps that was just the constant visions talking.

Harry's eyes darted away from the train and focused in on the window, finding Winona already staring back at him. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she after a moment of awkward panic she smiled gingerly, raising a hand in hello. Before Harry Potter could respond there was a familiar voice shouting out from the door of her compartment, and she turned away in surprise to see Lee tripping into the room, clumsily dragging his things in after him.

"I must have checked the entire train by now!" he was saying with a petulant huff. "Of _course_ you'd be in the last place I looked."

Lee shoved his heavy trunk above their heads with a grunt. In his other hand was a medium sized cage, something black and furry sitting inside. "Is that what I think it is?" Winona asked, intrigue on her elfin features as she peered inside the cage.

"Depends what you think it is."

"Why do you have a giant tarantula in a cage?" she asked, unwilling to take so much as a moment of bullshit from her friend.

"Mum wrote ahead. I got special permission to bring it along as my familiar."

She blanched. "You can't have a _tarantula _as a familiar, Lee."

"Who says?"

"Common sense."

He rolled his eyes and placed his new pet on the seat beside him carefully. Winona watched as it scurried up the side of the cage, a tangle of furry black legs. He unlatched the top of it, reaching in with a steady hand and plucking out the creature.

"His name is Tanglewood," he told her giddily.

"Is that so?" she murmured with a raised brow. She was going to say more, but a sudden scream cut through the pause, and both third years glanced to the doors to see a younger student standing on the other side, horror in her eyes as she screeched in terror at the sight of the boy's new pet. With a gasp the little girl stumbled away, trembling from head to toe with fright. "The entire train is going to know within minutes," she drawled. Lee only beamed proudly. "You're such an attention whore."

"Guess what?" he said rather than bothering to bicker back.

"I dunno, what?"

"No, you have to guess," he argued.

Huffing in irritation, Winona said thinly, "Lee, so help me Merlin-"

"I got a girlfriend over the summer."

Winona stared at him in shock. "You what?" she asked, stunned quiet.

"Yeah, her name's Siobhan, and she's _smokin'_ hot," he told her proudly.

"Why didn't you say anything in your letters?"

"A guy doesn't kiss and tell," he smirked. "Especially over owl."

Rolling her eyes, Winona asked, "but in person all bets are off?" Lee only grinned, the expression wide and cocky as only a boy's could be. "Who is she, then?"

"This girl I met at a party. I think I loved her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, we broke up the other day. Never been one for long-distance, not to mention she's a Muggle – it'd never work out."

"That's a shame," she replied idly, reaching out to run a finger down the furry coat of his new tarantula. "Get in some good snogging while it lasted?"

Lee smirked, the expression wicked. "Oh, you have _no_ idea," he purred, making Winona throw up a little in her mouth.

"Gross, Lee," she complained, shifting away from him before he could scar her any further.

"You know, Ron's starting this year," he said conversationally, taking pity and changing the subject. "How much grief d'you reckon the twins'll be giving him?"

"Oh, I can't wait," she grinned widely at the thought of terrorising the twins' younger brother.

"He's totally got a crush on you, y'know?" Lee smirked slyly.

"Well, of course he does," she shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

Lee laughed uproariously, and that was how the twins found them, Winona rolling her eyes at Lee's giggling form. "And what have we stumbled upon, exactly?" asked George, stepping into the compartment after Fred, letting the door click shut after him.

"Winona was just telling me how desirable she is," snorted Lee.

"Did you two know about Lee's little summer fling?" she asked in retaliation.

"His what?" Fred blinked in shock. Lee huffed at the betrayal. "Details, man. Details!" he said enthusiastically, and Lee kicked him in the shin.

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Good thing I don't see any gentlemen here, then, isn't it?" piped Winona slyly.

The boys all turned to her in rightful indignation. She snickered, leaning back against the window and grinning at them all widely.

"Enough about Lee's love life," said George before anyone else could comment. "We have news."

"Oh?" Lee asked eagerly, leaning forwards like he were preparing to hear the greatest gossip of the century.

"Guess who we've just met?" Fred began eagerly, unceremoniously shoving his luggage onto the storage above before collapsing on the seat beside his twin and opposite Winona near the window.

"Do tell," Lee drawled.

"You'll never believe it-"

"Momentous, really-"

"A complete shock-"

"Was it Harry Potter?" Winona interrupted them, running a hand through her loose hair, unable to help the smirk that spread across her lips.

Both twins turned to glare at her, less than pleased by her intrusion. She's stolen the glory of the reveal right out from under them and she knew it. "Why are you like this?" Fred asked solemnly, lips twisted into a frown.

"This whole Seer business can be awfully inconvenient," George added flatly, but Winona didn't mind, merely laughing to herself, bringing her leg up onto the seat and curling her arms around it in a hug.

"We're still on this whole 'Seer' thing, are we?" Lee groaned, the only one of the quartet not in the loop when it came to Winona's precognitive abilities. "I thought that with a new year we'd finally drop the act."

Dumbledore had given her very strict orders – nobody but the twins could know of her gift (and that was only because she'd been awfully clear that leaving them out of the loop simply _wasn't _an option). Winona felt horrible about lying to her other friends, but the twins had come up with an ingenious plan; they made it seem like a joke, chuckling about her knowing the outcome of a Quidditch match, or what colour robes Dumbledore would wear on any particular day. She was usually right, but Lee had always been somewhat of a skeptic.

"_It's pure luck_," he would insist with a snort. "_I'll believe she's a Seer the day I see some undeniable proof_."

It was a happy medium. This way she wasn't lying, in fact she was actually telling the complete and utter _truth –_ It just meant he didn't believe her. Which was more his own fault than hers, really, if they were playing in technicalities.

It wasn't the best plan, but it helped her sleep a little easier at night.

"So, what's he like?" Lee barrelled on, never one to dwell. "Does he seem powerful in person? Is he tall for his age, and strong?" he asked excitedly, making the twins snigger while Winona just chuckled under her breath, rolling her eyes at the lot of them.

"He's massive, actually!" George declared brightly.

"Large as a whale!" Fred added eagerly, nodding his head so hard that Winona worried it might fall off his neck. His attention was half on the tarantula in the cage by his side, attempting to feed it breadcrumbs from his mother's homemade sandwich through the bars.

"Be nice," she chastised them, shooting the pair a narrow-eyed stare, "and tell the truth." They shot her an identical sarcastic grimace, stubbornly not correcting themselves. "He's skinny as a stick – _not_ that his physical size matters a pinch."

"You say that now, but one mention of that tart, Allison Leaker, and _then_ you'll lose your cool," Fred murmured, and Winona practically turned red with fury at the name.

"That's because she's a blubber-covered hag with no higher brain function to mention," she spat, teeth grit together angrily, hands balled into fists at her sides. Suddenly she wanted to hit something.

The boys all cackled, endlessly amused by her hatred for the girl. Rolling her eyes hard enough to give herself a headache, Winona shoved her foot into Lee's side, pushing him against Fred, though it stopped none of them from laughing.

Grunting with restrained irritation, she fished her wand from her pocket, flicking it sharply and whispering a jinx, grinning in satisfaction when they all yelped in pain. It felt immensely good to have her wand in her hand. Having no magic over the summer was torture. She adored the way the stick of polished wood sent tingles up her arm, and the sense of power that it filled her with. It made her feel complete.

"What the bloody hell was that?" George demanded, reaching down to wrestle off his worn old sneakers, dropping them to the floor and staring at them with horror, the boys opposite him doing the same.

"Simple biting jinx," she said proudly. "I read about it over the summer."

"You _read_?" Fred asked skeptically, knowing Winona well enough to know she'd never pick up a book unless it was at wand-point.

The truth was that she'd been having nightmares – bad ones. The kind that left her sick long after she'd woken up. She couldn't quite remember what they were about, and for that reason she knew they weren't nightmares at all, but rather a form of vision.

Trelawney had warned her that as her abilities grew her inner eye might 'open enough to allow visions when you least expect them'. Dumbledore had translated that as night terrors. She could draw these ones without going into a trance, seeing the great beasts and terrible deeds in her mind's eye without ever having seen them in person.

She wanted to know how to protect herself – her first-year Defence teacher was about as useful as a waterproof towel, and her second-year one had been so short lived, what with her leaving her position for 'family reasons' – so she'd ordered some simple spell books by owl, ones she knew would offer outside-the-box methods of defence. She was careful to stay away from anything dark; the last thing she wanted was to be caught up in the dark arts.

She was terrible at theory, and to be honest she just skimmed most of the pages, looking only for the spells or jinxes that sounded the most useful or fun. She hadn't expected it to work on her first try, though she _had_ always been surprisingly good at the practical side of her magical education.

She opened her mouth to tell them this, but was cut off by an overexcited George who bounced into her field of vision, wide and enthusiastic eyes staring into hers. "You _have _to teach us!" he cried in delight. When she glanced over at Fred for assistance, she found him a carbon copy of his brother. "Imagine the _chaos_ we could cause, Fred!" he gushed.

"Does it only work on shoes or can we make anything bite people?" his brother asked, looking like he desperately wished he had a piece of parchment and a quill to scribble it all down.

"How long does it last?"

"Do you think we could adapt it to lick people, too? Imagine the fright they'd get!"

"Do you know the counter-jinx?" the last question was asked by Lee.

"Uh, no," she answered with a sheepish shrug.

The dreadlocked boy sighed tiredly, like he was the only adult at the children's table of a wedding. "Then how are we meant to get our shoes back _on_, Winona?" he asked patiently. She winced, suddenly realising the predicament.

"Who even cares at this point?" Fred cheered, still delighted by the prank ideas appearing before his eyes. "We can _make people's shoes bite their toes,_ Lee. Think of the possibilities."

"I think walking to the carriages barefoot is a small price to pay," his twin beamed.

"What other ones can you teach us?" Fred continued eagerly, nudging his snarling shoe out of the way so he could lean closer to his best friend.

"And only the interesting ones, if you would, our dear Winnie."

"Not the rubbish they teach in a classroom."

"The real-world stuff."

Smirking, Winona thought back to her brief perusals of her new books. "Well, there's one that turns food rotten when you try and take a bite," she revealed with a grin, beginning to get excited about the possibilities. Perhaps the twins had rubbed off on her sometime over the last couple of years.

"Brilliant, what else?"

"One that inflates things..."

"Useful."

"One that turns someone's head into a pumpkin..."

"Lee, write these down!"

* * *

The feast began as it always did, with the Sorting. Winona found herself holding her breath as the new first-years shuffled meekly into the Great Hall, staring at everything around them with massively wide, slightly-terrified eyes.

She knew who she was looking for – knew his face almost better than her own – so it took barely a full heartbeat for her to lock onto the young features of Harry Potter.

Seeing in him person again, this time without a window separating them, very nearly winded her. It reminded her that everything she'd seen of him these past two years – it was true_. _He was a real person, who would actually be going through the sorts of things she saw in her terrifying visions. It was all _real._

The poor kid looked absolutely petrified, his scared eyes a sparkling green from behind circular glasses. They were wide as they took in the Great Hall; the cloudy night sky that the ceiling was enchanted to look like, the candles floating above them delicately, the students staring at his new class like they were animals in a zoo.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall told them in a clear, loud voice.

The sorting took awhile, as it usually did, but it seemed to drag on extra slow for Winona, who was only interested in one person's result.

"Go on then," George muttered, he and Fred leaning across the table while someone named Parvati Patil was sorted, the hat taking a long few moments of deliberation. "Who gets him?"

Winona reluctantly dragged her eyes from the dwindling group of first-years to eye her friends. "What?" she asked, distracted.

"Which House does he get put into?" Fred pressed impatiently.

"You can't wait the extra two minutes and find out yourselves?"

"Maybe we just want to see if you're right," George said with an innocent beam.

She ignored them, turning back to the sorting, eyes refocusing on Harry Potter. She knew, as far as her visions went, which House he would be put into – but she supposed it was like her own sort of test. If she was right, and he went where she expected him to, then that must surely mean everything she drew about him would also come to pass.

She wasn't sure what she was hoping would happen.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall finally called out. The entire hall went deathly silent before the crowd broke out in loud whispers. Everyone was leaning around one another to get a good look at the Boy-Who-Lived, while Harry himself was cringing under all the unwanted attention.

Unlike many of his new classmates, he wasn't trembling as he took a seat on the wooden stool, eyeing the whispering audience with only a hint of wariness before the hat dropped down over his bright green eyes.

The hat was silent for a few long moments that might as well have been hours, until finally it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" at the top of its lungs. Winona felt herself sag downwards in something akin to relief.

"_We got Potter! We got Potter_!" the twins sang loudly, practically dancing in their seats with unrestrained glee.

Harry looked embarrassed at the attention, keeping himself small as he came to sit beside Percy, who shook his hand wholeheartedly, like he were meeting the bloody Minister for Magic himself.

Winona snorted, kicking the twins' shins in reprimand as she sensed it was making Harry uncomfortable. They cut off with snickers, turning back to the rest of the Sorting, but Winona took the time to lean around Percy to smile at the boy comfortingly.

He was surprised by the gesture, staring back at her without moving, unsure how to react, before finally his expression twisted up into a responding smile, grateful for the small act of kindness. She could tell he recognised her from the brief interaction at King's Cross and her smile widened, still barely able to believe he was there in front of her, so very _real_.

Then the sorting was over, the feast appeared by magic, and the evening was lost in a swirl of food and conversation.

Before Winona knew it she was stumbling through the portrait hole, fingers twitching against her palm as she felt the unmistakable itch to sketch.

"I know that look," George said from beside her as she moved towards the stairs, barely casting them a second look.

"You're planning to hide your face in your sketchbook for the evening," Fred continued in what she would almost call a whine.

"And completely ignore the best of your friends."

She spun around, stepping out of the way of a meek looking first year with bushy brown hair to peer at the twins through narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, did we have plans?" she asked tartly, but the pair only snickered conspiratorially.

"In fact, there is a certain…matter that we'd like to discuss with you," Fred admitted, glancing over his shoulder like he was sure somebody was eavesdropping. She didn't know who would care enough to do so – most of the Tower knew it was safer to keep out of their affairs. They'd learned long ago that plausible deniability was key.

"Will it get me a detention?" she asked dryly.

"We're at least 85% sure that it won't," George replied, the banter coming as easily as breathing.

She considered her options. She could go curl up in her fresh sheets and favourite pyjamas, and sketch to her heart's content, or she could stay down in the chilly common room and help the boys with their latest harebrained scheme, chancing yet another stint in detention.

"We'll throw in some warm apple pie for your time," Fred added smugly, knowing he'd already won – the smirk on his mouth said it all.

She glared at them both, but the expression lacked any trace of hostility. "Fine," she hissed, shifting out of the way of a looming seventh year. "You idiots have yourselves a deal," she caved, knowing that, even without the promise of apple pie, she would have said yes, because trouble with the twins was always better than peace by herself.

Turned out, she didn't have to do as much as she'd thought. They secured a corner near the fireplace and Winona situated herself in a big squishy armchair, tucking her feet underneath herself to keep them warm. And it didn't turn out to be merely _one_ prank they wanted to discuss, but rather a comprehensive _list_ of their plans for the coming school year.

As usual, she found herself sucked into their planning, enjoying the way their ideas made her laugh and the way she felt when they asked for her input, knowing she was the thirteen year-old queen of both reconnaissance and exit strategies.

"And mum gave us this brilliant idea about a toilet seat," George was saying animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands. Winona listened closely, absentmindedly considering which bathroom would be the ideal hit. The Prefect's bathroom would be the funniest, but not the easiest to access. She was thinking the one closest to the hospital wing was the best logistically, plus she could get Lee fake an injury and the twins could pretend to be visiting him. Maybe she could get him to take something that would make him throw up…

She voiced her musings to the twins, eagerly telling them her plans to get them in and out as under-the-radar as possible. "If only there was something we could take to make us believably sick," she added, more to herself than to them. "Who knew not paying attention in Potions might _actually_ come back to haunt me…?"

Fred sat up suddenly, spine straightening like he was a soldier at bootcamp. Winona eyed him carefully, watching the emotions splayed across his freckled face. George took a moment to catch on, but suddenly he was rim-rod straight too, a look of excited shock on his features, the expression mirrored perfectly on his brother.

"What?" Winona asked slowly from where she was curled up on the cushions. Sometimes not being in on their twin-telepathy could be a real pain.

"You, my dear Winona, are an absolute _genius_!" Fred exclaimed loudly. The last few people lingering in the common room turned to eye them grumpily. He looked about ready to plant one directly on her mouth out of pure delight, and she cringed warily at the thought.

"This changes everything!" George added, equally as thrilled.

"Of course we'll have to start _actually_ paying attention to Snape-"

"Small price to pay-"

"We need to brainstorm name ideas-"

"Not to mention packaging-"

"But Winnie can draw up something in a jiffy-"

"Oh, this is monumental-"

"On that note!" Winona said loudly, breaking over the enthusiastic chattering of the flame-haired twins. "I'll be off to bed. Do I need to know what I'll be 'drawing up'?"

"We'll tell you once it's more concrete," the pair assured her hurriedly, clearly too focused on this grand new idea to bother focusing on her. She would have been offended, had this not happened to her more times than she could count. It bothered her a little back in their first year, but now she only found amusement from watching them chatter between themselves like a pair of overexcited budgies.

"See you in the morning," she said, receiving only distracted nods in reply before she rolled her eyes and disappeared up the stairs.

Alicia, Hope and Angelina were already in their night clothes, all hovering around one bed as they chatted in low voices, every now and then a giggle slipping through.

Winona said nothing, not wanting to get caught up in the gossip circle she knew was happening. She was quiet, moving over to her trunk and plucking out one of her old _Rolling Stones_ shirts, turning away to pull it on. Unfortunately, her presence didn't go unnoticed for long.

"Winnie!" Angelina all but shrieked. The Seer winced, waiting until she was properly covered before turning around. "Come here," she continued, lowering her voice as though worried somebody might overhear, despite the fact it was bedtime and everyone was in their own dorms, getting ready for the coming day of classes. Although Winona wanted to cringe, she kept her face carefully arranged in a politely interested expression as she approached the trio of excitable girls. "Did you see Oliver Wood?" Angelina asked quickly, still whispering as though the boy himself might hear all the way on the opposite side of the Tower.

Winona's polite mask slipped, confusion replacing it. "Yeah?" she replied, not following. "He was standing in the common room, muttering something about Quidditch training. I mean, I know they couldn't have possibly gone with anybody else for Captain, but I can't help but think they've unleashed a monster…" she mused, wondering whether she could suggest turning his obsession into some sort of prank – the twins would eat that idea up like Christmas cake.

"Not _that_," Alicia sighed impatiently. Winona suddenly felt that she was completely missing the point.

"Then _what_?" she asked cluelessly, get irritated by the unknown.

"He's…well, he's _fit_," Angelina giggled, and though Winona couldn't quite tell, she was sure her friend was blushing.

"Oh," the blonde said, suddenly realising what this whole thing was about and wanting to hit herself for not realising sooner. She was an idiot_._ They weren't just talking about boys; they were _talking_ _about_ _boys._

Winona had managed to escape much talk of boys over her previous two years at Hogwarts. She'd never really gotten 'butterflies' or whatever her friends were giggling over. Maybe she just hadn't found the right person yet – that's what she told herself. Besides, she was only thirteen, she had her whole life ahead of her. She had bigger things to worry about than boys – like the approaching unease in her visions, and keeping the twins out of _too_ much trouble.

"Don't you think he's gorgeous?" Angelina asked her excitedly. Winona decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, pausing as she thought back to the glance she'd had of him in the common room only a short while ago.

He was, admittedly, quite attractive. He was lean and tall, with caramel hair, a strong brow and a thoughtful gaze. Her fingers twitched; she really should sketch him one of these days.

"All right," she said reluctantly, deciding not to lie to them. "He's fit."

The girls dissolved into a pile of giggling messes, and the sight was so typically cliché that Winona found herself laughing along, sinking into Alicia's side as her friend began to braid her hair while they spoke. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

* * *

It was two weeks into term that she met Adam Bradley for the first time, and suddenly she was eating her own words.

Her day began as any other; she was the last in her dorm to wake and she dressed haphazardly as she scrambled to make it down to the Great Hall in time to swipe some food from the boys. The twins greeted her absently, both absorbed in their conversation with Wood about Quidditch. Lee was slightly more inclusive, greeting her with a grin and a slap on the back, sliding over a plate of bacon and eggs for her to shovel down before their first class of the day.

"You started on that Transfiguration essay yet?" the dreadlocked boy asked around a mouthful of scrambled egg.

Winona snorted at the question; they both knew full well that she was the least likely to have started on an assignment that wasn't due for a whole week and a half. "Care of Magical Creatures was good the other day, right?" she spoke up conversationally, and Lee nodded fervently. "It's not often I say this, but I'm looking forward to the next class."

"Professor Kettleburn actually isn't so bad," Lee almost sounded surprised, a sentiment she shared, nodding in agreement. "How's Arithmancy?" he continued after a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"I'd say it's an easy O," she said with a smirk. Numbers came so easily to her, not quite like art and colours, but it was still easy for her to calculate sums in her head – she was actually looking forward to the next class, when they'd be working on integrating the theory into magic. "What about your Muggle Studies class?"

"Talk about an easy O," he laughed. She chuckled along with him before turning to her meal and devouring it in the few minutes she had remaining until Potions. The quartet were the last ones through the door, rushing to their seats just as Snape billowed into the room.

Class seemed to crawl by, and Winona found herself yawning every few minutes. She was thankful for George, who was actually _good_ in this class, watching as he stirred their potion seventeen times counter-clockwise. "You know, it's really not that hard," he commented, plucking a leech that Fred had tossed to him from the air with laughable ease.

"You're the brains, I'm the brawn," she murmured disinterestedly, tapping her fingertips impatiently against the tabletop.

Fred chortled from his place on the other side of their bench. Winona lifted her head to scowl at him. "I hardly think you're the 'brawn' of the group," he told her with a smirk, glancing pointedly at her smaller stature.

"Don't know why you're laughing," she jeered at his lanky form. "It ain't you either, buddy."

The grin dropped from his face but he didn't take the attitude to heart, used to how grumpy she could get during their morning Potions class with Snape. "Touchy," he muttered, pointing the tip of his knife in her direction before poking his tongue out and returning to his work.

"Andrews!" a familiar, nasally voice spat, and Winona had to suppress a deep sigh as she sat up properly, swinging around to peer up at Professor Snape warily. "I've noticed your distinct _lack_ of effort in class today," he sneered. "I've also noticed the _lack _of your essay in the pile on my desk." Winona said nothing, and he sneered victoriously. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

She was typically an argumentative person, but even she wasn't stupid enough to go picking a fight with Snape, so she didn't rise to the bait, merely nodding her head once in acknowledgement. Besides, she hadn't done the homework, so that was definitely more than a little deserved.

"Nothing to say?" the teacher continued, ugly sneer sitting comfortably on his thin lips. She didn't know how to respond to that, but she decided that keeping quiet was probably the best option – lest she lose control and saying something worthy of expulsion – so she merely shook her head and grit her teeth against he urge to sass him back. "Tell me, Andrews, can you name three ingredients used in the brewing of Amortentia?"

Stunned by the question, her eyebrows hit her hairline as she fumbled for the answer – a difficult task, because she'd never even _heard_ of that potion before. "Um..." she stalled, glancing over her shoulder in panic. The twins were scowling, having abandoned their tasks when he'd approached.

"That's not fair!" Fred exclaimed from the opposite side of the bench. "That's a sixth year potion!"

"Did I ask for your input, Weasley?" Snape countered dangerously, and the redhead fell silent, contenting himself to glaring daggers at the cruel, bitter Potions Master. "Well, Andrews?" he prompted when she remained silent. "No answer?"

"No, professor," she bit out, nails biting into her palms with concealed frustration.

Irritation lit up in his cold eyes, and he stared down at her as though she were something he'd spotted down a drain pipe. "I expect an essay on its properties on my desk by tomorrow," he spat, and Winona gaped at the order. He must have been in the worst mood of his life.

"What's your damage?" she snapped, unable to keep it from slipping through.

Snape sneered again, victorious. "Fifteen inches should do it," he said in that snide, vile voice of his. "You can get started now," he added, apparently displeased by her lack of a more violent reaction. "Feel free to head to the library. I don't reward incompetence, and your tiny brain will need all the extra time it can get."

Fred and George looked about ready to burst with barely-contained fury and Lee glowered into the brew that he was stirring just a little too violently. "Yes, sir," she said quietly, resentment like a beast within her. She reached down to swipe her bag from the floor, peeking inside to check she had everything. "See you at lunch," she told her friends, meeting Fred's eyes meaningfully.

She may not have had the same 'twin-telepathy' that the twins did, but they'd been best friends since their first few months at Hogwarts, and over time the three had built a rapport that extended beyond just plain banter and jokes.

Fred nodded once, knowing what she was trying to convey. The last thing she wanted was for any of the boys to get themselves into trouble for her sake. And Fred got the message loud and clear. Winona wasn't stupid enough to believe it would hold, however. They wouldn't do anything this lesson, or maybe even for the whole day, but the professor had _definitely_ made their immediate hit-list – even more so than usual.

Winona nudged George in farewell before shuffling from the damp, dark room, turning left to head from the dungeons.

It was a nice day. The sun wasn't shining, but it was still lovely nonetheless. For the briefest of moments she considered doing the unthinkable and _actually _going to the library to carry out the Potion Master's task.

She laughed to herself, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty corridor. She'd end up sketching anyway, so why bother even pretending?

She headed for the courtyard, stepping out into the light and heading straight for one of the benches by the far wall. Usually she had to skip class for this kind of privacy, but for once she'd actually been _told_ to leave, and she intended to spend every minute making the most of it.

She tugged out her current sketchbook, fishing around for a pencil before getting comfortable on the ground with her back leant up against the stone bench seat. The air still held a hint of its summer warmth and she revelled in it, scooping out a second pencil, reaching up and winding her blonde locks around the wood before spearing it in a practised move, succeeding in holding it up with the utensil as she always did when she was distracted.

Relieved that she could finally get to work, she opened her book to a half-finished work of a unicorn in a meadow and lost herself in the feeling of graphite against paper.

"Hey!" an unfamiliar voice suddenly barked, startling Winona so much that she flinched, then cursed when she realised she'd smudged her work. She looked up, annoyed by the interruption. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

It was a boy, at least two years ahead of her judging by the prefect badge in place on his chest.

He came closer and Winona took in the blue and bronze tie around his throat, realising he was a Ravenclaw.

"Well?" the boy prompted, arms crossed over his chest.

Winona slid her eyes and thoughts away from his tie, moving up to glance at his face. She was surprised by what she saw. Despite being older by at least two years, he looked young, with dark brown hair that seemed unruly and a round face with thick, defining brows which framed a set of warm brown eyes, the likes of which she was sure she would have remembered seeing before.

"Sorry," she forced herself to speak, although unable to pull her eyes away from his. He was entrancing, surprisingly so. She didn't tend to get flustered over boys, but suddenly she understood where the gushing girls in her dorm were coming from. "Uh, Snape kicked me out of his class."

It was ineloquent as could be, blunt and to the point and only really answering half the question. "Do you have a note?" he asked, tilting his head and peering down at her on the ground, brow furrowed as his thoughts raced with things she would never be privy to.

Winona winced, not having thought of the fact she may have needed one to be idling in the courtyard when she should have been in class.

"No," she admitted, reaching up with one hand to brush away her bangs, which had fallen into her eyes from the wind. "You could ask him, if you want. Or anyone in that class, really. It was rather a public kicking-out…" she trailed off, abruptly self-conscious about her own voice. What if he thought it was too hoarse or rough? It suddenly sounded so to her ears. Besides, did what she just said even make sense? What was _wrong_ with her? "What-what are _you_ doing out of class?" she tried to sound accusing, but as she glanced down she once more took note of the prefect's badge fastened to his robes and realised he didn't need a note or excuse.

Her cheeks felt warm. Was that normal?

He was smiling now, no longer stern, but instead ever so slightly amused. Winona swallowed, feeling uncomfortable from her place on the cobblestones below him. "I think I know you," he told her, making her blink in surprise. He shuffled closer before eventually deciding to take a seat on the bench she was leaned against.

Winona took a steadying breath, telling herself she was being pathetic before climbing to her feet, only to collapse back onto the bench he was perched on. She felt better that way, like they were more evenly matched. "You do?" she asked once she was certain her voice wouldn't sound too squeaky.

"Yeah, you're…Waverly, right?" he attempted, face scrunched as he tried to get her name right from memory.

Her cheeks went hot again and she held her sketchbook closer to her chest like a protective barrier between them. "Uh, it's Winona, actually," she corrected awkwardly, reaching up once more to push her hair from her eyes.

"You're friends with the Weasley twins, yeah?" She nodded, somehow not surprised that that was how she was recognised. "Those guys crack me up," he said around a grin that took her breath away. "Oh, I'm Adam, by the way," he said suddenly, realising he hadn't introduced himself. "Adam Bradley."

He reached out a hand and she held her chin high as she shook it, hoping beyond all hope that her palms weren't sweaty.

"It's nice to meet you," she murmured, letting go quickly, not sure she was comfortable touching him. "Um, if I'm not allowed to be here, I can go to the library or something," she said, glancing around like she expected somebody in a place of higher authority to leap out and yell at them. "I was meant to go there anyway but..." she trailed off, not wanting to say 'schoolwork makes me anxious because I find most academic concepts difficult to grasp'; it made her sound like an idiot.

"What were you doing instead?" he asked, sounding pleasantly curious.

She tilted her head at him, hair once more falling into her eyes. She knew she had to get it cut soon, and briefly she considered Fred or George, but there was no way she was letting them anywhere near her neck with scissors. She'd have to ask one of the girls – probably Angelina, she seemed like the smarter choice.

"Just...sketching?" she told him, but it sounded oddly like a question. She held up her closed sketchbook as proof, shaking it twice to draw his attention before shoving it back into her lap.

"You're an artist?" he asked, blinking at her with those warm eyes.

"Well, not professionally. I'm only thirteen." She laughed even though she hadn't made a joke. She pressed her lips together to stifle the nervous sound. "I want to be though," she added once she had better control over herself. "Y'know, when I grow up."

That was such a juvenile statement, it made her want to smash her head against the stone bench they were sitting on.

He was quiet and seemed to be contemplating what to say next. "Did you know you have a pencil in your hair?" he asked after a moment, eyes on the stick of wood holding up her long blonde locks.

She suddenly felt embarrassed – who the hell wore a _pencil_ in their hair? Merlin, she must look excessively sloppy to someone as well put-together as him.

"Do I?" she feigned surprise, reaching up to tug the pencil from where it sat, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders once the knot was loosened. He was watching her, chocolate-eyes glittering. "Anyway," she blurted quickly, reaching down to pluck her bag from the ground, "I'd best be going. I've got Defence next and I don't know enough about Quirrell yet to risk being late."

She stumbled to her feet, clearing her throat and watching as he stood too. He was short, only a few centimetres taller than her. It was a nice change – most of her friends were practically twice her size.

"Well, maybe next time you should have a note," he said, and she sucked in a breath, wondering if she was being somehow reprimanded. A beat passed, then he broke out into an amused grin, screwing her insides up into knots. "That was a joke," he added. She forced a laugh. It hadn't been particularly funny, but she supposed she could see the humour in it.

"Well, I'll – uh, I'll see you round, huh?" she tripped over her words, reaching up to run a hand through her hair nervously, made kind of uncomfortable by the way his intelligent eyes roamed her.

"I'm sure you will, Winona," he smiled again, the expression doing nothing to calm her racing pulse.

"Okay," she attempted a smile back. "Well, bye," she added lamely, biting down on her tongue before turning and rushing as smoothly as she could from the courtyard, heading for the Defence room, hoping she didn't look as ridiculous as she felt.

As she walked, she berated herself for how fucking awkward and weird she was. She cringed deeply, reaching up to fuss with her hair as she approached the classroom. What was _wrong_ with her? Was this what _liking _someone felt like? Why were her social skills on par with one of those gorillas they taught sign language to at Muggle zoos?

She needed advice; how to be a normal human being with normal human being feelings, 101.

She briefly considered going to the twins for help, but that was a mortifying thought. They may have been her best friends, but there were some things too personal to even discuss with them. Lee was out of the question – the whole school would know within minutes. She resolved to speak with the girls in her dorm next time there was opportunity.

"There you are," the twins were relieved when she walked through the door, stepping into the dimly lit Defence room and making her way over to the table where the four of them usually sat. "We thought you might have _actually_ gone to the library to get the essay done," George continued jovially. "Glad to see you haven't totally lost your Gobstones."

She attempted a chuckle, but it was really more of a distracted hum as she settled into her seat beside Fred.

"You alright?" he asked her quietly, ensuring the group of nosy Slytherins behind them wouldn't overhear.

"Why?" she hissed, eyes wide in alarm. Did she look strange? Could he tell? Did he see it in her eyes? Was that possible?

"Um – well, because your face is all red," Fred murmured back delicately, like she was a wild animal he was afraid might bite him.

"Oh," she sighed, reaching up to rub at her cheeks as though she could scrub away the colour. "I'm fine, Fred. Just tired…and hungry."

She hoped that was enough to sell it, but Fred knew her too well and continued to eye her suspiciously. Blessedly, before he could question her further, the door at the back of the room opened with a creak and Professor Quirrell tripped into view, a heavy looking lizard of some kind in his pale, shaking hands.

She opened her book, reaching for a quill and staring at the teacher like she was about to hang off his every word, trying to hide the fact that her head was swimming with thoughts of a baby-faced, brown-eyed prefect from Ravenclaw, and what this stupid little crush meant for her as an evolving woman...

She _really_ hated growing up.


	8. Can't wait to see you in action

Seeing Harry Potter in real life was still kind of disconcerting. Winona felt like she knew him already, having seen him in her visions so many times before.

He was a small boy of only eleven, his hair absolutely wild and his eyes so green they might as well have been emeralds shoved into his eye sockets. He was skinny, like he hadn't eaten in weeks, but he had a wide smile on his face every time she saw him. By coincidence, he'd made fast friends with George and Fred's younger brother, Ron, who still blushed any time Winona got within five feet of him.

She wanted to meet Harry properly, but not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Rather because she knew he'd lost his parents young – like her – and she knew he'd grown up knowing absolutely nothing of the Wizarding world – also like her – so she could only imagine how overwhelmed he was by everything.

Not to mention the magnitude of his destiny, the likes of which she was only just beginning to understand. He was going to do great things, of that much she was certain – but she couldn't very well _lead_ with that, could she?

She saw student after student go up to the kid, staring at him like he were some kind of rare, exotic animal on display. She didn't want to add to his discomfort, so despite her urge to speak with him properly, she held back until an opportunity presented itself naturally.

It just so happened that a couple weeks into term she wandered into the Great Hall early, not having gotten much sleep thanks to her nightmares coupled with Angelina's coughing (she had a horrendous cold but loathed Pepper-Up Potion, so she just waited for it to go away, much to the entire dorm's displeasure) to find the opportunity sitting before her.

Ron and Harry were perched by themselves at the far end of the Gryffindor table, chewing on bacon and laughing at a teasing impression Ron was making of somebody.

She approached them soundlessly, seeming to appear from thin air as she took a seat opposite the pair of them. "Hey, Pipsqueak," she greeted the youngest Weasley brother warmly, and Ron's face went red at the nickname.

"_Winona_," he groaned, embarrassed, meekly stabbing a fried egg with his fork.

"Hi, Harry," she said instead of responding. "Congratulations on making Gryffindor – I'm sure you heard how excited the twins were when you were sorted," she added with a grin. Although Harry smiled politely, he was still confused about who she was.

"Harry, this is Winona, she's best mates with Fred and George," Ron introduced her with a lazy wave of his hand. She rolled her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm.

"It's nice to meet you, Boy-Wonder," she told Harry happily. The poor kid only looked more bemused by the strange nickname. She grinned at him, feeling a familiar kind of warmth in her guts, like something within her recognised him, like they knew one another on a biological level. She supposed her visions connected them in ways even she didn't quite understand. Yet.

"She's got a thing about nicknames," Ron warned Harry around a mouthful of sausage. "Bloody annoying," he added, but to Winona it was like water off a duck's back.

"Now, now, Ronnikins," she chided him playfully, and he looked away, ears burning an embarrassed red. "How do you like Hogwarts, Harry?" she asked the bespectacled boy kindly.

His emerald eyes lit up as he glanced towards the enchanted ceiling, a smile on his lips. "I think it's the best place in the whole world," he told her with overflowing sincerity. She couldn't help but grin at his blatant, innocent awe.

"You're not wrong," she replied with a fond smile on her lips, glancing upward herself to briefly marvel at the cloudy ceiling she'd adored since she'd first seen it two years ago. "How're you enjoying your classes?" she asked a moment later, attention back on the conversation.

"They're good so far," he told her, then grimaced deeply as though an unsavoury thought had crossed his mind. "Well, except for Potions..."

"Say no more," Winona interjected with a grimace of her own. "Snape's the absolute worst, especially if you're in Gryffindor."

"He's horrible in general, sure," agreed Ron emphatically. "But he's _awful_ to Harry! You'd think he did something to offend him – he _hates_ him!"

"It's true," Harry confirmed with a sigh, seeming confused yet also resigned to this fact.

"Don't you worry, I'll get the twins to cook him up something special," she promised him slyly. Harry was bemused by the reply.

"Fred and George are the biggest pranksters in the school," Ron explained with something of an excited grin, like the thought of Snape suffering at the hands of his brothers was the best thing to happen all week – although he was probably just glad their efforts would be aimed at somebody who wasn't him for once. "If anyone can make him suffer, it's them."

"Who're we making suffer?" the twins had appeared over Winona's shoulder and she rolled her eyes at them as they took a spot on either side of her, pulling their fair share of bacon and eggs onto plates and clumsily pouring themselves each a pumpkin juice.

"Snape," she told them, pouring a goblet of apple juice for herself and taking a healthy gulp.

"Too easy," the pair snorted around their food. "We've already got a prank involving a hair growth potion we nicked. Think you'll enjoy that one. He bothering you already?" Fred asked Harry, who nodded grimly.

"He _hates_ me."

"I can guarantee that he hates _us_ more," George said cheerfully. "One day we'll tell you _all_ about the Love Potion incident of '89."

Harry grinned at the vague promise, probably having just as much fun imagining the brilliance of the story as he would if he heard it. Winona grinned back as she pushed the plate of fried eggs closer to him. "Don't worry about Snape," she told him. "He'll get what's coming to him."

"So, Quirrell's a joke, isn't he?" Ron spoke up, snorting as he spoke, cutting a long sausage into bite-sized pieces with clumsy movements. "Why does his turban smell so bad?" he wondered, mouth half full of food.

"He stuffs garlic inside it, to ward off the vampire he once crossed in Romania," Fred revealed in a gossipy tone.

"Yeah, that way he's protected wherever he goes," George agreed wholeheartedly.

Winona laughed at the pair and the fact that both Ron and Harry looked convinced by the tale. She decided not to say anything against it.

"Seamus asked how he defeated that zombie in Africa, but he just went all red and changed the subject," Harry told them, and the trio of older students laughed.

"Ron's right, he's a total joke," Winona confirmed. "Our first lesson, he showed up holding an iguana and couldn't say the word 'werewolf' without flinching."

"Who'd you have last year?" Ron asked curiously, picking up a strip of bacon with his fingers and biting into it.

"Professor Wilton," the twins informed them in a breathless tone of voice. Harry and Ron exchanged looks of raised eyebrows while Winona just snorted.

"These two lumps fancied her," she told them cheekily, tossing her thumb in the twins' direction.

"Winona, _everybody_ fancied her," George corrected her rather impatiently, only serving to make her laugh again. At that moment, Neville, Dean and Seamus all appeared, moaning about their homework for Transfiguration. Sensing the focus had shifted, Winona sent Harry a little wave of goodbye, and he smiled back in farewell, watching as she turned and followed the twins further down the table to continue talking where little ears couldn't hear.

"Okay, here's the new plan for our annual, self-appointed challenge," Fred began, voice hushed.

"What's so appealing about the Forbidden Forest, anyway?" Winona asked skeptically, pouring herself some more porridge, delicately sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on top. "Do you've any idea what kind of horrible things are lurking down there?" she mused, shuddering at the thought.

"That's the _point_, my innocent little friend," Fred said patronisingly. Winona shot him her most withering glare and the condescension melted from his face like wax in the sun.

George rolled his eyes. "It's the one place on the grounds we haven't properly explored yet," he explained. "Besides, who _knows_ what we might discover?" he added, a maddened, excited glint to his eye that matched his twin's.

"This year, we're more determined than ever to get a good look around," Fred agreed. "Say you'll help us with the contingency plans?" he begged, blue eyes going wide and pleading. "You're so good at covering for us – we'd never trust anyone else to lie to McGonagall about our whereabouts."

Winona laughed. "Oh, shut up."

Lee appeared then, sliding onto the bench beside Fred and beginning ramble about the Quidditch tryouts happening that afternoon. Winona looked away, eating her breakfast in peace and idly scanning the hall, only to pause with a catch of breath as her eyes landed on Adam Bradley at the Ravenclaw table.

He was talking to his friend, but he must have sensed her looking and glanced up, shooting her a wide, sincere smile. She smiled back as confidently as she could, then he turned away and she was left with shaky hands and a racing pulse.

"You coming to my first game, Winona?" Lee was asking her, and she shoved her stupid, fluttering insides away and focused on her friends.

"Lee, you're only _commentating_," she reminded him dryly.

"And some would argue it's the most important position there is," he sniped back. Winona rolled her eyes.

"I never miss a match," she assured the three of them. "So don't worry, Lee, I'll be there to mock you once the whole thing's over."

The twins snorted with laughed, and Lee shot her a grimace that only served to widen her grin. "Sucks that we have to use the school brooms, huh?" George said conversationally.

"Yeah, I'd give anything for my very own Nimbus," Fred agreed with a wistful sigh. "I hate that the school's old Shooting Stars vibrate if we try and go over fifty feet."

"And the way they always fly just slightly to the left?" George complained. "Ugh," he grunted, putting down his juice with enough force for the liquid to splash over the sides.

"The school's Comets aren't so bad," Winona reminded them. "Why don't you use some of those for the match?"

That sparked a conversation about the merits and disadvantages of broom styles, and Winona was happy to sink into the conversation, forgetting about Adam Bradley and his stupid, distinctive brown eyes and stupid, handsome face.

The days passed as they all got used to being at school again. Their usual routine once more settled around them and Winona found herself waking up late, scrambling to get ready in time and then having a lightning breakfast before hurrying to class with the twins. On Monday nights they had Astronomy, and on Wednesday nights Winona had her private lessons with Professor Trelawney.

It was a week later that Winona found herself in the Great Hall at dinner. She was sitting by Harry and Ron – but paying them little attention as Katie was telling a brilliant joke involving a hag and a cat with three eyes – when the twins tumbled into view.

"There you are!" Winona exclaimed, shooting Katie an apologetic look before turning to the twins. "Been looking all over for you."

But they ignored her, facing Harry and talking to him excitedly. "Well done," George was saying in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too — Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

From what Winona could gather, Harry had somehow made the House team, and her jaw dropped in shock. "You're kidding," she said, shifting closer to the pair of them and revealing she'd been listening in. "You're on the House team?!"

"Yeah," Harry said with a grin, like he could barely believe it himself, and Ron patted his new friend on the shoulder with a proud beam.

"Congrats, Boy-Wonder," she told him happily. "Can't wait to see you in action!"

"We've got to go," Fred said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at something. "Lee reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

Winona snorted her skepticism. "Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week," George replied smugly.

"Could be the one at the base of the stairs to the docks," Winona interjected.

The twins rolled their eyes. "We've told you before, Winnie, it doesn't count as a secret passageway if there's swimming involved," George said slowly.

"Right then, are you coming or what?" Fred added impatiently, making a gesture towards the doors.

"Nah," she told him, turning back to her food. "I'm starved, and I'm not about to let this perfectly good plate of food go to waste."

"Suit yourself," George shrugged, ruffling her hair in a familiar, affectionate move. Then they were bouncing off towards the entrance hall like a pair of overexcited rabbits.

"Hey, Winona?" Ron ventured once they rest of them were left to their silence.

"Hm?" she hummed in vague acknowledgement, very much focused on the roast pork and apple sauce in front of her.

"The first Hogsmeade trip is coming up, and third years can go, right?" he asked, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Why, Ronald Weasley," she said in a breathy voice, fluttering her eyelashes playfully, "are you asking me on a date?"

Ron's eyes went comically wide and he flushed red from the tips of his ears to the collar of his shirt. "No!" he hissed, whirling around to make sure nobody had overheard. Katie, who was still sitting opposite Winona and had heard every word, grinned teasingly, and Ron went a shade or two darker. "I was just going to ask you to get me a some Chocolate Frogs if you stop by Honeydukes..." he muttered, looking like he deeply regretted ever bringing it up at all.

Winona laughed and had opened her mouth to take pity and agree, when a rude, nasal voice spoke up from behind her. "Having a last meal, Potter?" the voice asked sharply. Bewildered by the animosity in the words, Winona turned to eye the person it belonged to. A short boy stood flanked by two _massive_ boys who were probably more troll than wizard. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" he continued through a sneer, his platinum hair glistening in the lights overhead.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly, and Winona was surprised by the equal hostility in his voice. The oversized goblins behind the Slytherin boy cracked their knuckles in a way that was surely meant to be menacing, though Winona was sure she could have them taken care of with one well-aimed punch, not to mention a good hex.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said the boy with his chin tilted upwards. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. What's the matter?" he asked, catching sight of the blank look on Harry's face. "Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," interjected Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

With a final sniff, like he was far too great to be standing so close to _Gryffindors_, the boy turned and marched away, his two bodyguards thudding along after him. Once they were out of earshot, Harry turned to Ron, who began explaining what a wizard's duel was.

The Hall seemed to sort of fade away, but it wasn't exactly a _vision_ she was getting – thank Merlin – but rather a feeling deep within her gut, or maybe more like a voice, silently whispering inside her head, although no words were used.

"Excuse me," another voice stepped in and Winona's stupor was broken. She turned to the boys, seeing another first year sitting opposite them, a rather haughty look on her elfin features.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" muttered Ron sourly.

The girl blatantly ignored him and instead spoke directly to Harry. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying — and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

Winona couldn't have cared less about the points – the House cup was virtually worthless to her (it hadn't been first year, back when she didn't have an aptitude for losing points more quickly than her House could earn them back) however, she knew the girl was doing the right thing.

"And it's really none of your business," Harry told her – rather rudely.

"Good-bye," added Ron in a tone of clear dismissal.

"As much as I hate to say it, the girl with the hair is right," she said, and the pair of boys spun around to stare at her in something akin to betrayal. "Not about the points," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I just don't think you should do it."

Ron's eyes narrowed, as though she were suddenly the one challenging them. "And why not?!" he asked, chin tilted up defiantly. "You and the twins have done _way_ more reckless stuff-"

"I just think it's a trap," Winona cut him off before he could get any more worked up. "He's a _Slytherin_," she reminded them with a grimace over at her least favourite table. "They have no sense of honour or integrity. He will throw you under the bus first chance he gets."

Harry seemed to be taking her words seriously, however Ron had clearly written her off before she even begun speaking. "Don't listen, Harry," the youngest Weasley brother said with a glare in her direction. "You can take Malfoy," he added encouragingly, as though Harry's ability to handle 'Malfoy' was at all in question.

Winona gave up, rolling her eyes, deciding to let them get into trouble if they weren't going to listen. Ron shoved a slice of ham into his mouth, then tugged at Harry.

"Let's go," he said with a lofty sort of nod. Harry hesitated, but in the end followed his new friend out of the Hall. The girl with the buck teeth and bushy hair from before was frowning at her meal, pushing her peas around with her fork, shoulders slumped sadly.

"Hey," Winona spoke, feeling sorry for the poor thing, who was sitting alone at the table, and had been all evening. "I'm Winona," she said, sliding to the left so she was sat directly opposite the girl, making it easier for them to talk.

She looked up, seeming surprised Winona would start a conversation with her at all. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said softly, blinking and sitting up straighter as she seemed to gain confidence. "You're a third year?" she asked curiously.

"Yup."

"Can I ask you a few questions about your course load?" she asked hopefully, and even though that sounded like Winona's own little brand of hell, she felt bad enough for the girl that she nodded again, slouching in her seat and preparing for the long haul.

* * *

Arithmancy really was great. Hogwarts didn't have an art class, and numbers came easily to her, they always had, so it was probably as good as it was going to get on that front.

It was quickly becoming her favourite class of the week. She didn't need to try as hard as she did in Potions or Transfiguration, the answers just came to her (Fred and George had suggested that was a 'Seer-thing' rather than a 'good-with-numbers-thing', but she ignored them – she liked to think she had talent in more than just art and getting the occasional glimpse into the future).

Professor Vector was strict, but without the twins or Lee in the class with her, Winona was able to fly under the radar, keeping her head down and out of trouble. The only bad thing about it was the piles upon piles of homework that she was given every week, but she managed to keep up with it by neglecting the far less enjoyable subjects' workload.

"Andrews," Professor Vector's voice was sharp, and Winona looked up from her notes to blink at the stern witch warily. "Think you can handle this equation by yourself?" she asked icily, tapping her wand against the board where a piece of chalk was independently scribbling down a lengthy sum.

Winona was sure she could handle it, but standing up in front of the entire class wasn't something she was keen to do. However, by the no-nonsense glint to Vector's beady eyes, Winona knew this wasn't a task she could turn down.

Swallowing her nerves, she stood from her uncomfortable chair and slipped through the aisle, heading for the front of the classroom where Vector was impatiently tapping her pointed leather boot against the stone floor.

Taking the hovering piece of chalk, Winona eyed the equation closely, the cogs in her mind whirring and spinning away as she fought to solve it in a timeframe that wouldn't make her look stupid. Her heart was beating wildly, she could hear people's whispers from behind her and began to convince herself that they were mocking her.

Closing her eyes, Winona used some of Trelawney's calming routines to try and relax. She rolled her neck, inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs expand with the breath, but when she opened her eyes again, she was greeted only by darkness.

_Not now_, she would have begged if she'd been able to speak, but as it was, she couldn't even feel her lips to try and move them, and was stuck wincing against the onslaught of sound and light.

Snarls reverberated in her ears, so loud they could only be from something huge. There was a smell on the air, something stale and poignant that would have made her retch had she been able to locate her stomach. Screams of children, hurried words and terrified shouts, before it all trailed off with the soft, relaxing plucking of a harp. It was a room made of stone, it was part of the castle, she was sure of it!

Coming back was a shock. She blinked open her eyes and quickly inhaled a lungful of blissfully uncontaminated air. Her right arm was aching and she realised it was raised, her fingers covered in a fine dusting of white chalk.

Then she became aware of the sniggers and harsh whispers from behind her. Realisation trickled through her like ice water, and she closed her eyes once again, praying to any deity that might deign to listen that she was just about to wake up and this would all have been just a frighteningly detailed nightmare.

But the whispers and laughter didn't stop and so she turned cautiously to the left, where she could see Professor Vector staring at her through narrowed eyes. "Think this is amusing, do you?" the teacher asked sourly. Winona's insides burned, like acid was corroding her stomach.

There was a bang from across the room as the doors flew open to reveal a panting Ravenclaw student in her year with an expressionless Dumbledore in his wake, his purple robes dragging along after him.

The Headmaster eyed the scene before him critically, and Winona finally dropped her right arm, realising it was still held up to the chalkboard. The whispers, which she now knew for a _fact _were about her, came to a stop. Dumbledore had the power to control a room without saying so much as a single word.

"Class is dismissed," he said in his usual airy, unbothered voice, though his electric blue eyes were focused in on Winona with all the power of a laser beam, making her mouth dry with anxiety. People were slow to gather their things, still grouped together and staring at Winona intently. She knew word of her 'episode' will have spread through the entire school by the time dinner rolled around – there was no escaping it.

Dumbledore was the picture of patience, standing still and politely nodding at the students as they reluctantly shuffled from the classroom. Once the final kid had left, the Headmaster shut the doors with a casual wave of his hand, heading towards Winona and her scowling Arithmancy professor.

"Are you all right, Miss Andrews?" he asked quietly, assessing her with narrowed sapphire eyes.

"Yes, sir," she answered him thickly, and though he didn't look entirely convinced, he still nodded, turning to her latest piece of involuntary artwork.

Realising that she herself had yet to see it, she turned, wincing as she caught sight of a large, terrifying, three-headed dog sketched hastily in the hazy white of the broken stick of chalk.

"What is the meaning of this, Albus?" Professor Vector asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. Winona knew she wasn't referring to the dog, but rather her student's apparent mental breakdown in the middle of her class.

"This is not an answer easily explained, Septima," Dumbledore told her calmly. Winona felt a flare of panic. Could Professor Vector be trusted? Did Dumbledore think it important enough that she knew the real truth? "I'll be with you in a moment," he promised the teacher, who scowled unhappily but didn't argue. Instead the Headmaster turned to Winona, placing a large, aged hand on her shoulder and gently pressing, herding her to the other end of the room. "What else did you see?" he asked softly, so the Arithmancy professor couldn't overhear.

"Nothing, like usual," she answered him just as quietly. "Flashes, voices, screams – music. None of it made any sense."

"So you know _nothing_ of what this means?"

Winona took a moment to steady herself before replying. "I know there's a giant three-headed dog hidden somewhere in this castle," she admitted. Dumbledore's expression turned severe.

"You mustn't tell anybody," he said imploringly, though the instruction was nothing new. "And you mustn't go looking for it, Winona." This, of course, was confirmation that he already knew all about it. How curious.

"I won't," she promised immediately. "The last thing I want to do is come face to face with that thing," she added with a grimace.

She decided then and there not to tell the twins. She loathed keeping things from them, but the last thing she was going to do was reveal a three-headed dog was locked up somewhere in the castle. If they found out, no amount of pleading would convince them not to go looking for it.

"But Professor," she said suddenly, another horrible thought gripping her. "Everyone in class saw me. They'll all know what I can do."

"I highly doubt a group of thirteen year-olds are going to put together that you're a Seer from this incident alone," he assured her calmly. "At most, they'll think you either rebellious or insane. I'll let you decide which option to run with," he added, utterly nonchalant – although there was the slightest hint of a smile flickering at his the corners of his lips. "Are you all right to get to lunch alone? I'd like a word with Professor Vector."

She wanted to ask what exactly he'd be telling her, but she was too rattled to speak up, so she just nodded her head. "I'll be fine, sir," she told him, and he nodded, gesturing for her to move and collect her things.

She gathered her textbook and shoved her quill back into her bag before climbing to her feet and heading for the door.

"Sorry, Professor," she apologised as she passed, unable to make herself meet the old witch's eyes. She was embarrassed – she could only imagine how silly she'd looked, standing up to complete a simple sum only to begin sketching a three-headed dog on the blackboard, completely deaf to her teacher's calls.

She dreaded to think of the rumours that would be circulating around the school by dinnertime.

For this period, Fred had Divination with Trelawney and George was on the other side of the school in Muggle Studies – it was the only period the trio didn't take together, and while Winona was usually glad for the small break, she suddenly felt she needed those two ginger misfits more than ever before.

It would be at least another hour until the bell rang and they could all go to lunch, so instead of waiting she made her way up to Gryffindor Tower, giving the password ("Lumos Solem") to the Fat Lady in a mumble and tracking her way up to her dorm for a nap. She always slept better during the day than at night.

She managed a half hour of quality sleep before she woke up, her stomach growling for food. Knowing she still had time before lunch would be served, she dug out her sketchbook and set to work on one of her old sketches, trying not to think about the mortifying Arithmancy lesson and what exactly Dumbledore had told the stern teacher about her mysterious episode.

Finally lunch rolled around and she reluctantly forced herself out of the tower and down to the Great Hall. Nobody she passed on the way down seemed to take note of her at all, and she foolishly began to hope the whole thing had blown over with supernatural speed.

And then she stepped into the Great Hall.

Whispers filled the large room, the sound travelling in the massive space and curved arches. Winona retreated further into her robes, letting the dark fabric swarm around her as though it could protect her from the stares. Eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of her, she shuffled towards her usual spot, glad to see the rest of their group had yet to arrive, all except for the only two people in the whole castle that she actually wanted to see.

"There you are!" George exclaimed from the opposite side of the table, keeping his voice low and waving her over. She slid into the space beside Fred, keeping close enough to his side that she could feel his warmth through their robes. The familiar feeling of him beside her was grounding, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Is it true?" Fred asked, staring at her with wide eyes, his plate empty of food.

"That Quirrell shagged Snape behind the greenhouses during first period?" she countered as brightly as she could, ignoring the way a group of fourth years were staring at her blatantly from further down the table.

"We'll revisit that later," Fred said quickly, and she grumbled unintelligibly at the fact that they actually wanted to stay on topic for once.

"You had a _vision_ during class?" George said the word as though it were dirty, lowering his voice to a whisper. Part of her wanted to be annoyed – it made her feel like a leper or something – but at the same time she knew he was just protecting her, and she was grateful for it.

"News travels that fast, eh?" she murmured, pulling a few slices of grilled cheese onto her plate. The twins were silent, staring at her expectantly, and she knew she couldn't get away with not talking about it. "Yeah, I did," she answered him with a huff, pouring herself some water. "Got up to do a sum on the board, next thing I know it's dark as night, something huge is snarling in my ear and all I can smell is wet dog."

The twins said nothing, eyeing one another closely as they spoke without words.

"Go on, then," she prompted them as a group of Hufflepuff first-years stopped beside them, whispering rather obviously as they pointed. She turned and gave a deadly enough glare that they quickly scattered, rushing away to their own table. "What're the rumours?"

"One of the muggleborns from Ravenclaw was saying something about schizo-something," Fred revealed, frowning as he tried to recall.

"Schizophrenia," she nodded, knowing it was probably going to be the least offensive theory she'd hear. "It's a mental illness," she explained with a huff, taking a bite of her lunch and following it with some water. "They're calling me crazy," she simplified it further when both twins only looked more confused.

"We heard another one that someone dosed you with too much love potion," George admitted with a shrug. "Made you think you were in love with a dog, and things just spiralled from there."

Winona couldn't help but snort in amusement. "That's not so bad," she said, glancing over her shoulder again and watching, equal parts irritated and smug, as everyone in sight abruptly glanced away like it wasn't completely obvious they'd been staring. "Spread that one round," she told the twins who were still eyeing her carefully, as though watching to see if she were about to explode. "There has to be some kind of explanation that isn't the truth," she said with a shrug, taking another bite of grilled cheese and talking around it. "Might as well be one that makes me laugh."

The twins were still watching her closely.

"What?" she snapped, irritated by their cautious expressions.

"Just not sure why you aren't panicking," Fred answered honestly.

Winona sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. "It sucks that I had to have a vision in front of everyone like that," she told them quietly, "but what's done is done. No use crying over spilled pumpkin juice."

The twins exchanged another of their long, silent looks, then as one broke into massive grins, Fred tossing his arm over her shoulders and tucking her into his side.

"I can't believe you fell in love with a dog over _me_!" he exclaimed dramatically. "I'm _obviously _the better choice!"

"Yeah, next time, think it through!" George added just as passionately.

The whispers in the hall kicked up a notch but Winona couldn't help but laugh. It was at that moment that Lee and the girls arrived, all coming back from a brief stop at the library, judging by the bulky bag at Angelina's side.

"You drew a _three-headed dog_ on the board in the middle of Professor Vector's lesson?" Alicia demanded, giving Winona a nudge as she dropped down into the spot beside her friend, already pulling sandwiches onto her plate. "What were you thinking?"

Thankfully Winona was saved from answering as the twins began loudly telling them the cover story, using exaggerated movements and loud, carrying voices. Winona relaxed, playing into the whole thing and nodding along, pleading insanity and munching on her lunch while the twins successfully distracted the others.

The buzz following Winona's apparent 'psychotic break' passed relatively quickly. People no longer whispered as she passed in the hallway. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Harry, who was still talked about almost nonstop, as it was since his arrival. She felt bad for the kid; she could tell he hated the attention as much, if not more, than she did.

He had bonded with Ron right off that bat; the pair were all but joined at the hip, reminding her of herself and the twins back in their first year.

She was surprised when the pair of them approached her about a week after the whole vision-in-Arithmancy debacle. She was sitting in the common room, it was getting late but it was a Saturday night, so a lot of the older kids were letting loose in honour of the weekend.

The twins were in the centre of the room, taking bets (in the currency of sweets) on who could do the longest handstand, a ring of students around them, cheering for their chosen competitor. Angelina was laughing with Lee and Katie by the fire. Winona was sitting by herself, sketching and enjoying not having to talk to anyone, when Harry and Ron approached her, cautious looks on their chubby little faces.

"Winona?" Ron began, Harry having quite blatantly nudged him to go first.

"Hm?" she asked, distractedly glancing up from her sketch of the outside of Gringotts, to which she was adding meticulous shading with a grey pencil.

"Can we talk?"

Bemused by the seriousness of their delivery, she just nodded, reluctantly setting aside her work to turn her attention to them. "What's up?" she asked, fingers itching to keep sketching, but she didn't want to be rude.

"We had a question...about the three-headed dog you drew in class last week," Harry finally said, his words careful, like he wasn't sure how she'd take it.

Exasperated, she begrudgingly began feeding them the same story she'd told over a thousand times in the last week of her life. "I don't remember doing it, must have been drugged with a love potion or something, at least that's what Dumbledore said-"

"We know about the three-headed dog on the third floor," Ron blurted before she could continue. She froze, staring between the pair of boys in surprise. Their expressions were serious and imploring; clearly they weren't taking the mickey.

"Sorry?" she asked slowly, making sure she hadn't misheard.

"The three-headed dog," Harry repeated quietly. "We've seen it."

So it definitely was real, then; that was something, she supposed. Eyes narrowed, she considered how to continue. "You must have seen it too, though," Ron continued before she could decide on what to say. "Otherwise, how would you have known to draw it?"

She didn't want to lie, but she sure as hell couldn't tell the truth. This left her with a tiny, _tiny_ little grey area that seemed inconveniently difficult to navigate.

"Why're you coming to me with this?" she asked, sidestepping a direct answer and instead keeping things away from her impossible knowledge.

"We know it's guarding something," Harry said, barrelling forwards, clearly with little intention of slowing. "It's standing on a trap door, Hermione said so, and we think we know what it's protecting – well, not _exactly_ what, but we know where it came from."

At the sudden influx of information, Winona could do no more than blink. "Um, okay," she said slowly, trying to keep up. "And you're telling me this _why_?"

"Well, we thought you must know something too, because you drew the dog," Harry explained. "Besides, Ron said you're really nice and that we can trust you."

Ron flushed scarlet, elbowing Harry with an embarrassed scowl. "Aww," Winona cooed, unable to help herself. "Does wittle-Wonnie fwink I'm nice?" she asked in a baby voice that only made Ron go a darker colour.

"Apparently I forgot how annoying you can be, though," the redhead added in a mortified grumble. Winona beamed and even Harry was laughing, much to Ron's displeasure.

"What're you giggling about over there?!" the twins shouted from where they sat with Lee and the others, their gambling ring broken up for the evening.

"The time you tried on your mum's lipstick and tried to make everyone call you Winifred and Georgina!" she shouted back, causing the common room to burst into uproarious laughter. The twins snickered at the memory, forgetting about the trio in the corner and launching into the tale with the others.

Distracted but knowing the conversation wasn't over, Winona turned back to the boys. "Look, what I know about Fluffy is very minimal," she told them offhandedly. "I don't even-"

"Fluffy?" Harry interrupted her.

What?

"What?" she voiced her thoughts.

"You said 'Fluffy'," Ron reminded her.

"No I didn't," she argued, beyond confused. Were they even paying attention? "Why would I say that? What does that even mean?"

"I dunno, _you're_ the one who said it!"

"Look, I really don't know anything other than the fact that it's here. Promise," she swore, but they didn't look convinced. "Believe me, if there was anything else, I'd tell you. Do I look like the type of person who keeps things like this to themselves?"

They exchanged a frown.

"If I see anything else, I'll tell you," she promised them again, keeping to herself exactly _how_ it was she would be _seeing_ these things. "But I'm sure Dumbledore has it all under control."

"Yeah," they murmured back, unconvinced.

"I'll see you later," she told them as Katie began shouting for her to join them. The pair f first-years nodded back, and she threw them a final, weary smile before shoving her things into her bag and hurrying to her friends' side.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade visit dawned a month into term, and Winona was incredibly excited. The twins had been a bunch of times, of course, thanks to the Marauder's Map and a secret tunnel leading out of the castle.

They'd asked her to go with them, and although she cared about as much (or, as little) for the rules as they did, something about sneaking out of the school just seemed wrong, not to mention stupid. If they got caught, they would have been facing expulsion, which was just a little too harsh a punishment for her to risk.

They told her all about it, of course, and brought her back sweets and butterbeer, but it wasn't quite the same as seeing it herself.

So the morning of the visit, she woke up feeling oddly rested and distantly listened as the other girls all chattered excitedly amongst themselves. She went through her bag, making sure she had all her money and art supplies, before shoving her feet into her worn pair of shoes and making a beeline for the common room.

"Took you long enough!" Fred exclaimed when she appeared at the mouth of the stairs.

"I'm the first person here," she replied dryly, referring to the girls who were all still curling their hair and chattering amongst themselves up in the dorm.

"Come on then, Blondie," George said jovially, tossing an arm over her shoulder and beginning to yank her in the direction of the portrait hole.

"We're not waiting for the others?" she asked confusedly.

"We're coming!" Angelina's voice floated down from the staircase, and the boys both huffed as they came to stop. They were both dressed in last year's Weasley sweaters, only they'd grown quite a lot since then and they were a size too small – making them look rather absurd, now that she noticed it.

"You look kind of ridiculous," she mentioned, reaching out to pinch the stretched wool of Fred's green jumper, a golden F knitted into the material. "You should wear something that actually fits you."

"We can't help it if our muscles are just _bulging_ out of our jumpers, Winnie," George said mock-indignantly, both brothers striking a pose to show off their biceps.

"This is what _men_ look like, sweetheart," Fred added in a gravelly voice.

"First of all," she began seriously, "_never_ call me sweetheart, _ever_ again." The pair nodded, agreeing with this condition at the dangerous look on her face. "Secondly, you don't look like your muscles are 'bulging out of your jumpers'. You just look like you shopped in the children's section for your clothes."

"That hurts, Winona, that really hurts," George murmured in a disheartened sort of tone that only made her roll her eyes.

"Okay, now we can go!" Alicia had appeared from the dorms, dragging Angelina after her.

Both of them looked far more put together than Winona who, in great contrast to the twins, was wearing a red sweater several sizes too big, had her hair piled sloppily on top of her head, and still had a streak of purple paint on her cheek from the night before. There was a brief moment where she felt a flare of inadequacy, but she shook it off and followed the others towards the portrait hole.

"Lee went ahead with that Jackson bloke from Ravenclaw," George told the girls as they took the stairs two at a time in their eagerness to get to the wizarding village. "Something about following Melissa Beacon to try and convince her and her sister to have a butterbeer with them."

Angelina let out a snort of a laugh. "Desperate sod."

The day was cool, the air holding a sharp bite that Winona adored. She listened to her friends chattering away happily as they all made their way down towards the Wizarding village nestled between the mountains near the school.

She wasn't sure what to expect, exactly. The closest she'd ever come to being in a Wizarding village before was Diagon Alley, but that didn't really count.

The village was lovely though, and she felt excitement rise within her as they walked through it, taking in the old-style buildings and the bustling crowd, most of it students from the school, eager to explore. She needed to sketch it and knew she'd be getting little sleep that night, staying up to try and recreate it on paper.

"So, where do the ladies wish to begin?" asked Fred, catching their attention.

"Where do you two suggest?" asked Alicia curiously.

"Honeydukes, for sure!" George told them, making a sharp right and leading them in that direction.

"The sweet shop?" Angelina murmured, casting Winona a sly look. "Someone had better keep Winnie on a tight leash."

Ignoring the comment, Winona stepped inside the bustling shop and suddenly found herself having to clamp her jaw shut, lest she gape like an idiot.

Every wizarding sweet she'd ever heard of was stacked upon the shelves, every colour of the rainbow seeming to burst from every wall. The whole shop smelled delightful, the sweet scents making her mouth water.

Alicia and Angelina slipped into the crowd, the shop so packed with students that they disappeared instantly. George followed after them, calling out something about not bothering to try the cockroach clusters lined along the far wall.

"See that fudge station over there?" said a voice in her ear, and she looked over her shoulder to see Fred grinning widely as he pointed to a small kiosk in the corner. "They hand out free samples," he told her with a mischievous glint to his eye.

With a small squeak of excitement Winona grasped hold of his wrist and yanked him through the thickening crowd. The kiosk was run by an elderly witch, who smiled kindly at the sight of them. "Would you care to try some?" she asked airily.

Winona scanned the options before one caught her eye. "Can we try the salted caramel, please?"

The witch's hands disappeared below the counter, reappearing with two little squares of fudge. She and Fred took them immediately, popping them in their mouths and chewing.

They tried three other flavours before wandering away. Winona bought an array of sugar quills, making sure she had enough to last her until Christmas, then they met up with the others and wandered back out onto the street, heading for a pub the twins said was good called the Three Broomsticks.

They day passed in a haze of butterbeer and laughter, and Winona thought idly that it didn't really get any better than this. She just wished it could last forever.

* * *

Two months into term was when the usual monotony of life finally broke. It was Halloween, which wasn't really that big of a deal in the Wizarding world, but it _was _an excuse to eat lots of sweets, not to mention the House Elves' wonderful pumpkin pie.

Although the whispers had long since stopped, the school didn't seem to want to completely let go of her 'episode' the month before. The Slytherins in particular kept smugly calling her 'Woolly Winona' as though it were the cleverest taunt thought up in the history of Hogwarts.

She heard from Harry and Ron that it had been Draco Malfoy to coin the phrase, and a few days later he walked into the Great Hall with bright pink hair, much to the Winona's delight. The twins had gotten large, theatrical kisses on the cheek for that one.

She could handle a little animosity from the students. It was, after all, nothing new. But it still sucked, that much she couldn't deny. People whispered as they walked by, eyeing her warily. Even a whole month and a half later, she was just sitting in the courtyard, minding her own business when a pair of older Slytherins walked by, coughing out 'raving lunatic' as they passed, as though they were so clever.

Shoving her middle finger in their direction, they snorted and scurried away, unbothered by her glower.

"What're you sulking around for?" the twins appeared by her side, having snuck up on her – they had an uncanny ability to prowl around silently, they liked to say it was all part of the 'pranking-process', but Winona thought they just had soft shoes.

"I'm not _sulking_," she said defensively, not bothering to look up from her work. She was sketching the Whomping Willow with a black pen, just something to keep herself busy while she attempted to ignore the looks being thrown her way. "I'm _moping. _They're two totally different things."

"Alright then, Smartypants," George murmured, and though she wasn't looking at him, she _knew _he'd rolled his eyes. "Why're you moping?"

The twins weren't particularly touchy-feely (neither was she, really, so this wasn't an issue) but she always knew she could be a hundred-percent upfront with them without fear of ridicule or judgement. They were honest with one another, they always had been, even when it came down to silly little things like moping about being called crazy.

"Just sick of people calling me 'insane' behind my back, I guess," she muttered.

"Would you rather they said it to your face?" asked Fred in confusion.

"Yeah, actually, I would," she told them, and Fred wondered why he was surprised by the answer. "I can handle things being said to my face, but behind my back?" Winona scowled. "It's far worse."

She hated dishonesty. It was ironic, then, that given her ability it sometimes seemed like the only way to survive was to be lie to the people she loved – or at the very least omit the truth.

Winona lifted her shoulders in a shrug, glancing up at the sky. It was getting close to lunch and the sky was overcast but light enough that it was pleasant, just begging her to stay out and soak up the chance to sit outside without having to rug up against the cold. Still, her stomach ached for food, so she reluctantly stood up.

"I'm all good, just being a girl about it, I guess," she said dismissively. "Coming to lunch?" she asked, lifting the strap of her heavy bag onto her shoulder, then glancing down at her paint-stained hands, scratching at the flaky smears on her skin, but eventually giving up on trying to get it all off.

"Yeah, we've gotta make a stop first, though," Fred said. She looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do I _want_ to know? Or should I maintain plausible deniability?"

"We'll see you later," George promised rather than answer, and she figured that was telling enough as it was.

"Don't get detention tomorrow night," she instructed them seriously, calling it over her shoulder as she headed for the entrance back into the castle. "I need someone to stuff myself on sweets with!"

Lunch was delicious, though she skipped the healthier options to gorge herself on pumpkin pie. Angelina was there to sit with her, though her attention was half on the Herbology book cracked open in front of her. Alicia arrived halfway through and she was much better company, the pair making a competition out of who could make the best napkin-swan – which was quite funny, because neither knew a thing about origami.

They were just leaving the Great Hall, making reluctant plans to wander up to the common room and get started on their Charms essay, when the twins came roaring around the corner, coming to a panting stop in front of them and holding their hands over their hearts as they recovered from their sprint.

"Did you try to give Snape a wedgie again?" Winona asked them warily.

"Better!" Fred insisted.

"Well, not _better_, but close to it," George amended quickly, and Fred nodded in agreement.

"Come on," Fred said, reaching out to grasp Winona's wrist while George threw an arm around Alicia's shoulders. They both began to lead them towards the stairs leading to the lower levels of the castle, presumably on to the kitchens. "Oi! Ange!" he shouted over his shoulder, and Angelina looked up sharply from where she'd been talking with a first year. "Come on!" he called, and she looked like she was considering ignoring him, but probably decided it wasn't worth the backlash and bid the younger student goodbye, following the others down the stairs.

"What's going on?" Ange asked, both her and Alicia uncomfortable being in this part of the school for any reason other than Potions class. They had a point, it _was_ the most likely place a Slytherin would attack, being their territory and all.

"We have a surprise," the twins told them giddily.

All three girls exchanged looks of caution. "Last time you tried to surprise us, it ended up being a bathtub full of cockroaches," Alicia reminded them flatly.

"It was meant to be _funny_," Fred said defensively, but quickly gave up when he was met with nothing but glares from the girls. "Anyway, this is loads better than that."

"If I see a single bug, heads are getting slapped," Winona warned them, and the twins quickly raised their hands in surrender.

"Just trust us?"

Sighing, Winona knew she couldn't deny them that. "All right," she muttered with a crinkled nose, but the twins would take what they could get.

They finally made it to the kitchens, though Alicia and Ange only looked confused as they came to a stop in front of the painting of fruit, neither having been to the kitchens before. "Winona, would you do the honours?" George asked, dipping into a low bow.

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, she stepped forwards to tickle the pear, watching as it giggled then turned into a doorknob, allowing them entry.

"How the hell did you guys find this place?" Alicia asked with a gasp when they led them into the room, which was bustling with dozens of excitable little elves.

"Oh, you know us, always exploring," said Fred dismissively, and the girls seemed to buy it.

"Hello Misters Wheezy," a familiar little elf appeared in front of them, large golfball eyes watery with elation at the mere chance for conversation. "Are youse ready now?"

"We are," George confirmed, clapping his hands then rubbing them together like a man about to eat a feast.

"This ways!" the elf chirped, and the others followed warily. Angelina and Alicia were staring at the massive kitchens in shock, still acclimating to the hundreds of giddy, hardworking elves and the enormous room holding all manner of cooking equipment, not to mention the identical House tables placed throughout the room.

Winona finally put all the pieces together when they came to a stop at the replica of the Gryffindor table where Lee was already sitting, surrounded by about a dozen pumpkins in a range of different sizes and a generous selection of carving materials.

"You're kidding!" she gasped, turning to stare at the twins. They were beaming proudly, an eager glint to their near-identical eyes. They knew how much she loved to carve pumpkins – how it was one of the first ways she'd ever learned to express herself creatively, and that she'd held a soft spot for it ever since.

"Come on then, Andrews," Fred said with a grin. "Let's carve us some pumpkins."

The only other person who'd ever carved a pumpkin before was Alicia, who laughed as the others held their carving knives in weak, cautious grips. "You've never been cautious about anything in your lives," Winona reminded the twins with a laugh, already working on enthusiastically scooping out the insides of her pumpkin with a large spoon. "Don't pussyfoot about."

They laughed and eventually fell into it, each trying to be the first to empty their pumpkins of their insides, then starting a mini food fight with the mushy vegetable guts. Winona laughed but stayed out of the line of fire near Angelina and Lee, who were in the process of drawing clumsy faces onto the sides of their pumpkins.

"Draw my face for me?" Fred begged her from across the table, but she was already shaking her head.

"You've gotta do it yourself," she insisted, tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated on marking out the eyes of her creation.

"You can just draw it, then I'll carve it out!" he promised hopefully.

"Nope," she said, pausing her work just to grin at him cheekily. "You're on your own."

He grumbled unhappily but continued without complaint. Winona smiled in satisfaction. "So you do this often?" Lee spoke up a few minutes later, and she looked up with a smirk.

"That some kind of cheesy pickup line?" she asked wryly. Lee scoffed.

"You wish," he said, chucking a small handful of pumpkin guts in her direction that she ducked with ease, the others laughing as it flew over her head and into the roaring fire behind her. "My family never does anything for Halloween," he added, speaking loud enough for the whole group to hear, "but my mum's weirdly enthusiastic about Easter. When I was little, we'd have a _massive_ Easter egg hunt every year. I'm talking _hundreds_ of eggs."

"Lee," said Angelina flatly, "you're an only child."

"My cousins all came over, so it wasn't just me and a million chocolate eggs," he scoffed again. The twins snorted at the image he painted.

"My family's big on Christmas," Alicia said, brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully carved the mouth of her face. "We do a secret Santa, but we always compete for the most ridiculous gift, then all try to guess who it was from."

"What's a secret Santa?" George asked, looking up from his work in confusion.

"You write down the names of everyone in the family, then put them in a hat and take turns drawing one out. You keep it a secret, pick a gift and give it to them at Christmas," Alicia explained patiently.

The twins look intrigued. "So nobody knows who's getting one another a gift?" Fred tried to understand. Alicia nodded in confirmation.

"Does that mean everyone only gets something from one person a year?" George asked skeptically.

"Everyone gets everyone _something_, of course, but the secret Santa is always the main event."

"That sounds kind of fun," Lee said cheerfully.

"It is," Alicia smiled widely at the thought of her own tradition. "What about you two?" she asked the twins, who by now might as well have had orange skin with how much pumpkin guts were covering them. Everything they did was messy, Winona didn't know why she thought carving pumpkins might be an exception. "Any holiday traditions your family has?"

"Every Christmas, our mum knits us all a jumper," George said merrily. Everybody knew this already, having seen the twins in their jumpers during the first few months of every new year, but they nodded anyway.

"Must be a lot of work," Angelina murmured thoughtfully. "You have a huge family," she added, as though it might have somehow gone unnoticed.

"She knits ones for the people she 'adopts' into the family, too," Fred told them with a huff of a laugh. "That's why this little pixie gets one every year," he said, flicking his knife at Winona, sending a small mass of orange mush her way. It landed on her arm, and though she wanted to retaliate, she was more focused on her task. She sent him her most exasperated expression and then continued to work on her masterpiece.

"What about you, Ange?" she asked the only one of them to not speak up, looking over to see her struggling to saw through her pumpkin's skin.

"For my birthday every year mum gives me a family heirloom – usually jewellery," she shrugged.

"Is that where you got that necklace from?" Alicia asked, pointing to the chain of the diamond necklace they knew hung from her neck, currently tucked safely into her jumper.

Angelina nodded, smiling faintly at the thought of her yearly tradition.

"I got this ring from my mum for Christmas last year," Alicia added happily, holding out a hand where a simple gold ring sat glittering on her index finger. At this point, the twins and Lee had broken off into their own conversation, bored by the girls' talk of shiny things. "It was my great-grandma's." Angelina 'oohed' over the jewellery, and Winona gave it a cursory glance before returning her attention to her pumpkin, which was close to being finished.

"What about you, Winnie?" Angelina asked conversationally. She hummed distractedly, barely glancing up from her task. "What family jewellery do you have?"

"Oh, none," she responded distantly, trying to get the triangular nose _just right._

"None?" Alicia sounded surprised. "Not even anything of your mum's?"

The boys went quiet, all turning to look at Winona carefully, as though expecting her to burst into tears at the mention of her late mother. Angelina slapped Alicia in the arm crisply, reprimanding her for bringing it up. Winona just barely refrained from rolling her eyes, instead keeping her gaze on her work.

"Nah, I don't have anything from either of my parents," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug, like it didn't matter. Like it she hadn't spent so many hours as a kid staring at her own face in the mirror and wondering whether she got the slope of her nose from her mum, or the stormy grey of her eyes from her dad.

"Nothing?" asked Alicia, sounding very close to pitying. Winona kept working as she shook her head. "You never talk about them," she continued in a delicate voice. "We don't even know their names."

Winona knew she was just curious – concerned, even. She couldn't blame Alicia for wanting to know more. Winona was tight-lipped about her personal life; she'd always been that way. Not everyone needed to know everything about her, even if they felt like they were entitled to it. That was how she saw things, at least.

Keeping her eyes focused intently on her task, Winona replied, her voice carefully detached. "Jessica and Orion Andrews – at least, as far as I know."

"As far as you know?" pressed Alicia, ignoring the glares the others were sending her way, trying to tell her to shut up.

"Don't know much about them," Winona admitted, shrugging indifferently.

The others were tellingly silent, and frustrated, she finally looked up from her task to scowl at them.

"I'm not an emotional bomb. Quit staring at me like I'm about to explode," she said sternly, and the girls let out a breath of relief. Alicia looked close to saying sorry, but Winona sent her a sharp glance, silently telling her not to, and she nodded with a faintly apologetic smile. "What I _really_ want to know," she said, rather than continue the same vein of conversation, shooting a mischievous look at Lee, "is how long it takes _this_ tool to eat over a hundred chocolate eggs."

The twins let out loud guffaws, and Lee rolled his eyes as he hurried to launch into a soliloquy about his ability to store fat like the camels in the Sahara.

"I've never done this before," Angelina said conversationally as the twins once more got caught up in their own banter. "It's awfully American of us."

"The twins know how to cheer me up," Winona said fondly.

"Where'd you learn to do it?" asked Alicia curiously.

"My Muggle primary school," Winona told them. "They'd have a station set up every year. I think it was just a gimmicky way keep the kids entertained, but I always loved it. I won a ribbon every year for most creative display," she added proudly.

Alicia smiled warmly, only to grimace in disgust as she accidentally dipped her hand into her pile of discarded pumpkin guts. Wiping her hand on one of the towels left by the Elves, she cast as glance over at the twins, who were now competing to see who could do the best job with their eyes shut.

"I didn't realise the twins could be so sweet," Alicia admitted, a little chagrined at herself.

Winona smirked. "You should know by now; they're full of surprises."

Twenty minutes later everyone was proclaiming they'd finished their works of art and, as one, they all spun their pumpkins around so the others could see them. Laughter filled the kitchens, making the elves edge away from them cautiously as they continued their hard work for the upcoming Halloween feast.

The twins' were the worst, really just consisting of chunky holes in random places. Lee's was surprisingly good, with large, hollow eyes and a wide mouth. Alicia and Angelina's were clumsy but thought out, with mouths spreading across nearly half of the pumpkin. Winona's was by far the best, her experience and talent for art giving her a significant advantage, with a crooked mouth of sharp teeth and angular eyes.

"There's one final step," Fred reminded them, pulling out his wand and muttering a familiar charm. Small fires ignited inside each of the hollowed out vegetables, lighting up the faces in a wicked, flickering vision.

Everybody erupted into applause, and the twins gave deep, dramatic bows.

"Let's take these up to the common room," Lee suggested, already gathering his in his arms. "I'd hate for them to go unappreciated."

"Too right, Jordan," George agreed, picking up his own and nodding for the girls to do the same. Alicia and Ange began to chatter about making carving pumpkins at Halloween a tradition, and George and Lee caught up with them, nodding eagerly in agreement.

Winona picked up her pumpkin, glancing down into the magical flame within before putting the top back on and heading for the door. Fred kept pace with her, his own rather large pumpkin held in his gangly arms. "This was fun," he told her conversationally, a grin on his face. "I didn't know scooping the guts out of a massive vegetable could be so enjoyable."

"Thanks, Fred," she told him sincerely, glancing up at him, head tilted back to meet his eyes.

"For what? We heard this was fun, thought we'd give it a try," he replied, playing aloof, although she caught a hint of a telling smile curving at his pale lips. "We didn't do it for you, or anything," he added nonchalantly, but she saw through him like he were spun from glass.

"Right," she agreed, looking away to hide her grin. She nudged him in the side with her shoulder. "Thanks anyway, Carrot Top," she said slyly, and he made a mock-affronted sound before his expression cleared into one of satisfaction.

"Any time, Blondie," he muttered, and she smiled widely as they climbed the stairs back up to Gryffindor Tower, finding she felt a whole lot less rubbish than she had before.

Halloween dawned and the moment Winona woke up, she was hit with a vision. She'd fallen asleep with her sketchbook beside her, and when she came to she was holding it in her hand, a picture of one of the first year Gryffindors sitting alone in a toilet stall, crying sadly into her hands, her bushy hair hovering around her head like a halo.

She couldn't remember the girl's name – even though she knew they'd met recently – and she wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but she _did _get the sense that it was only just about to happen; she could tell by the urgent buzzing beneath her skin, like she was meant to do something, but she didn't know what.

Classes went by slowly that day. She yawned her way through most of History of Magic, trying to get a nap in, but the Slytherins were in a shitty mood and kept charming scrunched up bits of parchment to smack her in the head. The twins retaliated with some weak hexes, and thankfully Binns was so involved in his lecture on the Witch Hunts of the fourteenth century that he didn't even notice, and everyone got away scot-free.

"Who do you think would win in a fight between Dumbledore and McGonagall?" Fred questioned, sounding thoughtful as they made their way down from Gryffindor Tower, where they'd just dropped off their bags. The Halloween feast was about to begin, and Winona could swear she could smell the sugary confectionaries and pumpkin pies from all the way up in the Tower.

"Dumbledore, for sure," she said with a nod.

"He's known as the greatest wizard alive for a _reason_," George said, scratching at his head and pausing to let a group of fifth years pass without banging into him.

"_But_," Fred said quickly, holding up a hand to stop their train of thought, "what about _without _wands?"

"Ooh," George sang, intrigued.

"Definitely McGonagall, then," Winona answered with conviction.

"Are you saying that as a Seer, or as a feminist?" Fred asked.

"Why can't it be both?" she countered, and he snorted. "All right, fine," she muttered. "But just look at them. Dumbledore might be powerful, but physically, he looks like a strong gust of wind could topple him over."

"And McGonagall looks stronger?"

"I just get the sense that she could really smack a bitch down. You know what I mean?"

"No, Winnie, I really _don't_ know what you mean."

"_Guys_!" a familiar voice cut through their focused bickering and the trio turned to see Angelina rushing towards them. "Finally," she huffed when she reached them, pressing a hand to the stitch in her side. "Been looking all over for you. Wood wants to speak to us about next practise."

"Again?" George groaned. "We only spoke to him yesterday. I swear, if he grows any more obsessed, he'll have to be committed to St Mungo's mentally ill wing."

"Come on," Angelina rolled her eyes, shoving at their shoulders to urge them along. Winona followed, smirking as they stepped into the Hall, then practically melting with glee as she sat down at the table, immediately loading her plate with baked potatoes and peas.

The twins and the girls were sitting to her left, making faces behind Oliver Wood's back as he ranted about the upcoming match. She laughed, covering her full mouth so food wouldn't spew from her lips.

"You know Hermione?" a first year across from her was saying, and something about the gossipy tone made Winona pull her attention from the twins. "I found her in the bathroom before," she continued, her sleek black hair pulled back into an intricate braid. "She was crying, and yelled at me to leave her alone."

"She's a bit weird, isn't she?" her friend, the one with mousy hair and large eyes, agreed, but Winona was no longer listening.

Girl crying in the bathroom, of course it was Hermione. She didn't know a whole lot about the girl, they'd only spoken maybe twice, but she'd heard Ron complain about her enough to get the gist of the problem.

"I'll be back," she told the others absently. George waved lazily in acknowledgement, too involved in his conversation to care. Winona picked up her plate and walked down the table until she reached Ron and Harry, who were both stuffing their faces with chicken.

"_What_ did you do?" she rounded on Ron, dropping heavily into the empty space beside him. The poor kid nearly choked on his mouthful, looking over at her in alarm.

"What?" he asked bewilderedly once he'd stopped coughing. "What are you talking about?"

"Hermione. Bathroom. Crying."

Ron gave a reluctant sort of grimace. "I just, I said something, and she overheard and got all upset – it's an overreaction, really," he told her blithely. She raised her eyebrows, making him rather uneasy, like he didn't trust her not to smack him – which was probably a good call.

"What did you say?" she asked, slow and stern.

"Doesn't matter," Ron insisted. She looked to Harry who quickly averted his eyes, not wanting to snitch on his new best mate.

"Called her a nightmare," said an Irish voice across from them. Winona turned to see a pale boy with sauce smeared on his lips. "Said it was her own fault no one could stand her," he finished cheekily. Ron shot him a glare of pure betrayal.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron," she hissed. The kid went red, biting into another chicken wing with force.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" he said defensively around his mouthful. "She's a bloody know-it-all."

"First of all: watch your fucking language," she told him sharply, and Harry laughed so sharply he spat out his mouthful of pumpkin juice. "Secondly, you're an idiot."

"Leave me alone, Winona," Ron groaned, clearly deciding she wasn't worth putting up with.

"So help me Merlin, you will listen to me, Weasley," she warned him darkly. Ron went red again, but finally stopped eating and turned to look at her, probably deciding it wasn't worth the smack he'd receive if he snubbed her. "Hermione's a muggle-born, yeah?" she began. He didn't answer, but she hadn't been expecting him to. "Do you think _maybe_ she was so incredibly nervous to come into a world she knows nothing about that she read up on everything she could, to try and help herself fit in?"

Ron grumbled unintelligibly.

"And did you think that _maybe_ that all she wants are some friends, but nobody will give her the time of day? She's coping the only way she knows how, Ron. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same thing."

"_You_ didn't," Ron muttered sourly, reminding her that she too had grown up almost entirely Muggle. And yet she hadn't pulled a Hermione and memorised all their textbooks by heart.

"I could have easily become Hermione," she told him. "An outcast, snubbed by this crowd of magical strangers."

"Why didn't you?" Harry was the one to ask, uncaring that she wasn't technically talking to him.

She smiled knowingly. "I made friends," she reminded them, tossing a thumb back towards the twins, who were now taking turns using their spoons to fling peas into Percy's hair. "That's all she needs," she said quietly. Ron purposefully avoided her eyes. "So maybe stop being a stubborn _arsehole_ and just give her a chance?" she finished. Ron flushed red again at the name-calling, but he'd stopped arguing.

"No need to curse," he muttered, frowning down at his meal. Winona just laughed, nudging him and sharing a conspiratorial grin with Harry.

The room went oddly quiet before either of them could say anything more, and bewildered by the unexpected silence, Winona turned in her seat to see Professor Quirrell jogging towards the teacher's table, his turban askew and terror on his face. He slumped over Dumbledore's plate and said, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know," then promptly fainted on the spot.

There was another perfect silence. Nobody seeming to know how to react. And then the screaming began.

Children screeched at one another hysterically – which Winona really thought was all a bit overdramatic. It was in the dungeons, and the things moved like snails. Still, the thought of it getting her friends was enough to have her standing and rushing back to the girls, Lee and the twins, who were all shouting over each other in somewhat of a panic.

Reaching them, her first move was to instinctively grab onto Fred's, fingers curling around his bony shoulder. Without pause he gripped her hand in his, holding on tightly, ensuring they wouldn't get separated in the crowd.

Everything fell into utter chaos, and Winona was just wondering how they were meant to be getting back to their common room – if it would even be _safe_ there – when several purple firecrackers exploded from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand.

Finally the Great Hall settled into a thick, tense silence, the quiet thrumming with anxiety and fear.

"Prefects," he said clearly, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

It was kind of disturbing how elated Percy looked to be given this task, standing to his feet and beginning to motion like a stewardess during the evacuation procedure on an aeroplane. "Follow me!" he shouted over the loud buzz of noise. "Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"Bloody hell, Perce," Fred called as they hurried up the stairs towards the Tower. "Try not to enjoy this so much, you power-hungry lunatic."

Percy didn't dignify that with a response. Nobody seemed to know what to do once they got to the relative safety of the common room, but it was clear nobody planned on heading up to bed. It was a good thing, then, that only a few minutes later food and plates began to appear on every available table surface. People shouted their glee and hurried to get more food, but talk of the troll was the only thing filling the room.

"Where d'you s'pose it came 'rom?" Lee was asking around his mouthful of pork, sloppily washing it down with some pumpkin juice.

"Dunno," George shrugged, not bothering with cutlery and just holding a sausage in his fingers. "Forbidden forest, I guess."

"But how'd it get in?" Alicia asked, looking desperately confused. "I mean, that's impossible – this place is more fortified than Fort Knox."

"Than what?" Fred asked cluelessly. He was ignored.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Angelina said flatly, making sure to swallow her mouthful of pumpkin before continuing. "Someone let it in."

"Who in Godric's name would do that?" Lee wondered.

"My money's on Snape," Fred offered eagerly. "Maybe he wanted to prove he could handle the Defence position, so he let it in to show Dumbledore."

"Or maybe he did it to try and kill Quirrell," George added brightly, thrilled by this theory. "A 'two owls, one stone' sort of a thing?"

"Snape _isn't_ trying to kill Quirrell," Alicia laughed at the absurdity of it all, and the twins sent her matching grimaces for her lack of enthusiasm. "Come on, he's a prick, but he's not homicidal."

"Whether Snape's trying to off him or not, there's something seriously not right with the guy," Winona spoke up, cringing at the thought of the creepy professor. "It's the stutter, I just don't trust it."

"Oh, come on, Winnie," Alicia rolled her eyes. "The poor bloke can't help his _speech impediment._"

"He just gives me a weird vibe, is all I'm saying," she said, hands held up in surrender.

"I'm with Win," Fred said, hooking an arm over her shoulders. "The guy's just _off_."

"You're all terrible people," Alicia deadpanned and the twins cackled evilly, making Winona snicker. Nobody came to tell them what happened with the troll, but she figured they'd hear eventually and, comforted by the knowledge that a fully-grown mountain troll definitely couldn't fit through the portrait hole, they wandered up to bed with full stomachs and smiles on their faces.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. I'd love to hear from you, so let me know your thoughts! xx**


	9. We've all got our scars

The absolute worst part about being a _bloody_ Seer, was when the visions hit her when she was just simply minding her own _bloody_ business. She was sitting in a rare patch of sunlight out on the grounds, enjoying the warmth it brought against the icy winter breeze, and then _BAM_!

Suddenly everything's dark and there are flashes flickering like fire all around her, coming in from every side, every angle. It was choking her, the smoke filling her lungs. She couldn't breathe. Where was she? What was that voice? The one that seemed to echo from inside her very head, making her feel sick in a stomach she couldn't locate?

Then with a start she came back to the present, sucking in the clean, crisp air, glancing down her new prediction. It was done in charcoal, but as always, she understood it clearly, seeing the colour in her mind's eye. A stone sat on the floor, glinting in firelight, and a looming shadow was cast on the floor from the light of the flames. The whole picture gave her a menacing sort of feeling, and she felt like she needed a shower before she'd even finished looking it over.

Scrambling to her feet, Winona shoved her belongings into her bag and hurried for the castle. It was still early in the morning, the frost not yet melted from the grass, and she sucked in the bitingly cold air as she walked, enjoying the way it stung her throat and lungs.

Dumbledore was in his office (she wondered whether he ever left for any reason other than a meal), and the password was still the same as last time, so she leapt up to the top and knocked on his door.

"Yes, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster asked kindly from behind his massive desk as she settled into her usual spot, deciding she wasn't in the mood for smalltalk. The sketchbook landed in front of the older wizard and he blinked down at it, his expression the picture of innocence. "What do we have here?" he said curiously, blue eyes sliding over her blindly drawn prediction.

"You tell me, Professor," she replied, maybe just a tiny bit confrontational. What was so _important_ about this stone? Important enough that it warranted an entire vision?

"I can't say I know anything about this particular vision," he told her, voice too _even_ to be quite so believable. The whole encounter was dripping with deception, and for the first time she felt a flare of distrust for the Headmaster. He seemed to sense this, and the innocent guise abruptly dropped, replaced by casual interest. "Do you sense anything in particular when you focus on the vision?" he asked lightly, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "A date, or a place?"

"No," she told him honestly. He hummed as though this was a pity but of no real consequence to him, but then she reconsidered. "Well, there is one thing," she said, and Dumbledore looked up a tad sharply, silently urging her to go on. "When I first looked at it, I got overwhelmed by this feeling of…maliciousness," she chose her words carefully. "Whatever's happening in this vision – it's nothing good."

The Headmaster was quiet as he nodded, taking out his wand and going through the usual motions of replicating the sketch for his own personal collection, then handing her back her book with a polite, if not slightly airy, smile.

"I believe you're late to breakfast," he said suddenly, and her head whipped around to glance at the grandfather clock in the corner, which told her that if she didn't leave now, she'd have to make a detour to the kitchens on her way to the first Quidditch match of the season. "May I ask what you were doing outside at such an early hour?" he asked as she climbed to her feet, haphazardly stuffing her sketchbook back into her threadbare bag.

She wondered how he knew she'd been outside, but she figured there probably wasn't a lot that went on inside this castle that he wasn't aware of. That was a sobering thought in and of itself.

"I have trouble sleeping, sir," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag so it lay diagonally across her chest. Dumbledore didn't look surprised by this either, but she figured she'd probably mentioned it before.

"Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey about acquiring some Dreamless Sleep Potion?" he suggested politely.

"I don't like taking things for it," she shook her head, rejecting the idea, having already considered it in the past. "I don't like to medicate."

Dumbledore nodded like he completely understood, but Winona doubted he did. "Will you be going to see the match?" he continued pleasantly, and she was beginning to grow irritated by his conversational mood, stomach grumbling to be fed.

"Yes, sir," she answered him quickly.

"I suppose you never miss a match, what with most of your friends being on the team." Not sure what she was meant to say in response, Winona could only nod. "Well, I've kept you long enough," he declared with a breezy smile. "Go; get fed and watered, then enjoy the match."

"Thank you, Professor," she nodded gratefully, already backing towards the door. "You too!" she added as an afterthought, already rushing down the stone staircase, intent on meeting the others before they headed down to the Pitch.

She put the vision out of her head, focusing on the thought of the coming meal, and hurried towards the Great Hall. Everyone was still eating, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried to where she could spy two heads of flaming red hair.

"Ready to kick some Slytherin arse?" she asked in lieu of a greeting. She was met with enthusiastic if not distant cheers for her trouble. She took a seat between George and Alicia with a grin on her face, eager to put her rather disconcerting morning behind her. "Excited for your first match as an official Chaser?" she asked the taller girl, quickly piling eggs onto her plate.

Katie looked excited and ill at the same time, and Winona grinned.

"You'll do great," she continued when she received no answer, bumping her lightly in the side. She'd tried out for the team a few weeks ago like everyone else, and, to the whole group's celebration, she was appointed to be a Chaser beside Angelina and Alicia. Now every single one of her friends was on the team, bar Lee; and even he was the commentator for the matches.

"I'm not even the most nervous of us all, I can promise you that," Katie said, nodding down the table some to where a white-faced Harry sat, surrounded by the other first years, looking very much like he was going to be needing a bucket to throw up into sometime soon.

"I'll be back," Winona said, but Katie was already distracted by Lee's excited babbling about the match.

"Where're you off to?" George asked as she began to stand from the table.

"To rally the troops," she told him offhandedly, and though this likely made little sense, he nodded anyway. She picked up her plate, shuffling down the table towards the cluster of first years. "Wotcher, Harry," she said as she came to a stop in front of them, and Ron was the first to turn around, staring up at her through narrowed eyes, like he didn't trust her not to hex him for a laugh.

Harry didn't reply, instead swallowing thickly as he stared down at his empty plate, the anxiety in his eyes overwhelming.

"Scooch over," she ordered Ron who awkwardly shuffled across on the bench, leaving her a space between him and that frizzy-haired girl – Hermione, she reminded herself sternly – from his year. She took a seat, picking up a strip of bacon from the plate in the middle of the table and taking a hearty bite. "How you feeling, Boy-Wonder?" she asked the bespectacled kid lightly, pouring herself some orange juice without looking.

"I'm okay," he insisted, voice weak, and she made an unconvinced noise in the back of her throat.

"Seamus has just finished telling him how Seekers are always the ones in the most danger of injury during a game," Hermione spoke up primly, shooting the pale fellow sitting beside Harry a withering stare that was honestly just impressive for her young age. The poor kid looked away uncomfortably, and Winona smirked at his wariness.

"You'll be fine, Harry," Winona told him, elbows resting on the table. "Don't listen to bowl-cut over there. I've seen how you fly, you're a natural."

"When did you see me fly?" Harry asked curiously, momentarily distracted from his anxiety.

"Practise," she said with a grin. "I always sit under the bleachers and sketch while my mates run their drills. Makes me feel like part of the team, even though I'm not _actually_ on the team." Harry nodded and went right back to stewing in his internalised terror. "Don't worry about a thing, Harry. The twins'll be watching your back. Trust me, nothing gets past those two walking hurricanes. You couldn't be safer."

Harry still didn't look convinced, but he seemed to appreciate her attempts at easing his fears.

"Eat something," she ordered him, picking up the tray of bacon and waving it under his nose. "Don't want our new star player having a dizzy spell and falling off his broom," she teased. Harry grasped his stomach, which she had no doubt was turning in on itself with nerves, then reluctantly took a piece of bacon and nibbled at it weakly. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

"Why aren't you on the team?" Hermione asked from her right.

"Not really a fan of participating in organised sports," she shrugged. "I was born a cheerleader, not a player."

"Is it true you take bets before each match?" Seamus asked her eagerly. Immediately Hermione's curious expression shifted into one of stern disapproval.

"Nah, person you wanna talk to is Lee," Winona told him, ignoring Hermione and nodding up to her group of friends where the dreadlocked boy was twirling a fork around his fingers like a baton. "He's the kingpin of the school's underground gambling system. The twins wanted to do it, but I told them it wasn't good business, since they're actually on the team."

"The school has an underground gambling system?" Ron asked, befuddled.

"You've got a whole lot to learn, Freckles," she told him slyly, winking at him in a move that had become a habit through spending so much time with his brothers. The tips of Ron's ears turned red and he scowled at Winona, making her chuckle.

Harry was laughing too, and she knew she'd completed her self-assigned task of cheering him up. Winona grabbed some bread from the pile, buttered it quickly before filling it with bacon.

"You know, you really shouldn't be gambling," Hermione was saying reproachfully. Harry and Ron exchanged exasperated looks that made Winona snort.

"_I'm_ not," she told the younger girl easily, unbothered by her judgement.

"But your friends-"

"Can do what they like," she finished smoothly. Hermione also went a light pink, but from irritation rather than embarrassment. "Nobody's getting hurt. It's just a bit of fun."

"It won't be fun if McGonagall finds out."

Chewing her sandwich slowly, Winona eyed the girl, assessing her carefully. Her little chin was tilted up as though expecting an argument and her eyes sparked with fire. "That a threat?" Winona finally asked, tone pleasantly curious, and Hermione's chin tilted up higher.

"No, it _isn't_," Ron interjected before things could get out of hand, not knowing Winona had no real intentions of fighting with the girl. She was only doing what she thought was right; besides, she doubted Hermione would _really _go to McGonagall to rat them out. Even eleven year olds knew that snitches got stitches. "Don't worry about it, Hermione," he continued quickly. "It's really only the seventh years who participate, and they're all adults anyway."

That wasn't true, most of their business came from fifth year and below, but Winona wasn't about to call him out on it. Hermione hummed, eyes narrowed before she turned back to her meal. From the corner of her eye, Winona saw her friends all stand from the table.

"C'mon Harry," she said, picking up her sandwich to take with her. "You've got a game to win."

"How is he?" Angelina asked as they made their way down to the pitch. Harry, Ron and Hermione were trailing behind them and the rest of the team, who all chattered noisily (except for Wood, who was staring at the ground and frowning severely, as though he were making his way into battle and not an inter-house Quidditch match).

"He'll be fine," Winona assured her, casting the new Seeker a look over her shoulder. Ron was currently explaining something that required large hand gestures and a loud voice, but Harry looked like he wasn't hearing to a word of it. "He's nervous, sure, but remember you before your first game?"

"Just about wet myself when I walked out onto the pitch to see the whole school staring at me," she recalled with a grimace. "Half wanting me to win, the other half hoping I'd end up eating dirt."

"And then you went on to score the most goals in the whole match," Winona finished cheerfully. "He'll do great."

"I don't doubt it," Angelina agreed. "The kid can _fly_."

"We're sorry to interrupt what we're _sure _is a very stimulating conversation, Ladies," George interjected before Winona could reply, and the pair were forced apart when the twins barged between them, Fred throwing an arm over Winona's shoulders in a habitual move.

"But we have some business to take care of with Andrews, here," Fred added, beginning to steer their blonde friend away from the dark beauty, who rolled her eyes, far too used to their antics to be surprised.

Once they were sure everyone was out of hearing range, George spoke up. "Go on then," he said eagerly. "Who's gonna win?"

Winona barked a laugh. "_That's_ the business we need to conduct?" she asked, shrugging off Fred's arm and turning to walk backwards down the path, so she could face them as she spoke. "I wouldn't tell you even if I did know," she told them with a smirk.

"So, what you're _really_ saying is…you don't know?"

She rolled her eyes again. "I think I have these visions for reasons more important than knowing who's going to win the school Quidditch matches."

"Says you," George scoffed. "We could be rich by now, you realise that?"

Exasperated, Winona rolled her eyes, turning back around for the rest of the walk down to the Pitch. Wood rushed everyone into the changing rooms and Harry gave a rushed goodbye to his friends before shuffling into the small building, his expression betraying his nerves.

"Come on, then," Fred said, whirling around to face her, leaning forwards and tapping his cheek expectantly. "For luck."

Rolling her eyes for the second time in as many minutes, Winona pressed herself up onto her toes and smacked a noisy, affectionate kiss on his cheek. She smiled up at him before doing the same to George, who snorted at her theatrics.

"Go flatten those snakes," she ordered them, and they were just giving her cheeky salutes when Wood's voice impatiently shouted at them to get inside.

Ron and Hermione took seats by the railing, but Winona moved up a few rows until she found Hope, who was sitting wrapped in a glittering gold jumper, eyeing the empty pitch warily. She'd never been a fan of Quidditch – said it was far too violent for her tastes – but she always came to support her friends anyway.

"How's Katie?" Hope asked as Winona took her seat, rubbing her arms to try and stave off the cold. The sun shone bright in the sky but did little to negate the chill of the biting wind.

"Excited."

"And Harry Potter?"

Winona shot her a mildly irritated look. "You _can_ just call him Harry," she reminded Hope wryly. Her dorm mate didn't react other than to wrinkle her nose. "And he's fine."

"But it's like calling a celebrity by their first name," Hope argued. Winona was surprised – she'd always thought Hope was too down-to-earth to get swept up in something like this.

"He's not a celebrity," Winona said, but Hope shot her a pointed look and she had to reword it. "Okay, maybe he is, but he's also a Gryffindor, which makes him practically family – and you don't call family by their full name."

Hope seemed mildly confounded by her words. "Since when are you so righteous about House spirit?"

Winona melted a little. "Harry's a good kid – and I get the sense that he hates having a big deal made over him. So please try not to treat him like some huge, impossible-to-live-up-to legend? He's just a kid trying to get through his first year at a new school."

Hope lifted her hands as if in surrender. "Flint's a _menace_, and Harry's only a first year," she smoothly changed the subject, raising her voice to be heard over the growing hum of the crowd. She referred to the Slytherins' current captain, an ugly brute who was probably more troll than wizard.

"He'll be fine," Winona replied stubbornly, turning to look at the pitch as the crowd's cheers grew to a nearly deafening volume. The Gryffindors were walking across the field, their scarlet robes glistening in the sun, brooms thrown casually over their shoulders. Standing to her feet, Winona stuck her fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. She knew the sound was lost in the roar from the other Houses, but she liked to think that, somehow, her friends knew she was cheering them on with everything she had.

The Slytherins stomped onto the field as well, all of them wobbling like overgrown gnomes. The captain, Flint, was clearly choosing brawn over skill when it came to his team. Their emerald robes could have been compared to slimy seaweed, but Winona was too busy clapping for the Gryffindors to take the time to comment.

The game began with a bang, and Winona noted that Harry looked awfully lost, hovering off to the side on his broom, seemingly at odds for what to do. She didn't have long to worry about it, however, her eyes on her mates as they flew all about the Pitch, the Quaffle moving between them almost too quickly to keep track of. She kept her focus on Lee's commentating, but he tended to get a bit off topic, including a train of thought about Angelina's legs that was _highly_ inappropriate but still made her laugh, even as McGonagall furiously shouted for him to stop.

The twins were confident flyers. They never hesitated, zipping across the Pitch and slamming their bats into crazed Bludgers like it were second nature. Ange, Alicia and Katie worked so well together – as Winona knew they would from all their intense practises over the last month.

Some days Winona wished she was out there with them, but she knew she didn't have the guts to do what they did – the pressure they were all under, the kind that made her feel vaguely nauseas, she didn't have the stomach for it.

At one point a Bludger nearly took poor Harry's head off, and she cheered furiously when she saw Fred beat it expertly out of the way.

The Snitch was spotted and the cheers in the stands kicked up a notch. Harry and Higgs went neck and neck, hands stretched out in desperation, but before either could get ahold of the little golden ball, Flint blocked them, forcing Harry to swerve violently out of the way.

Hisses and jeers broke out across the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands, while the Slytherins all looked mighty pleased with themselves at their team's foul tactics.

Gryffindor was awarded a free shot, but the Snitch had disappeared in the chaos. Even Hope seemed disappointed by this, scowling at the Slytherins angrily. Winona shouted a curse at the opposing team that made Hope gasp and turn pink.

Winona smirked slyly, opening her mouth to do it again just to see if she could turn her a darker shade, when she felt a prickle of warning dance across her skin like static in a storm. Turning to face the field, she scanned the air, searching for the red-clad forms of her friends, mentally checking over each of them to be sure they were okay.

It wasn't until her eyes landed on Harry that she realised exactly who it was that was in danger. His broom was jolting violently, like a bull trying to buck him off. Nobody else had seemed to notice, and Winona whirled around on the spot, grappling for an idea, for something to do to help. Could she make it to the teacher's stand in time? Should she try and charm it to stop, somehow float him back to ground?

She dismissed that idea immediately, she knew next to nothing about counter-charms and wasn't willing to risk it.

She mentally kicked herself – why hadn't she seen this? Why hadn't she known this was going to happen? Wasn't that the _point_ of being a seer? To stop the bad things from happening?

She felt ill.

Winona watched as the twins tried to pull him off the malfunctioning broom and onto their own, but the Nimbus only jerked away all the more violently. Heart in her throat, Winona stood with the rest of the crowd, watching in horror as Harry clung onto the broom, desperately trying to keep from plummeting to his death.

She wasn't sure what happened, all she knew was that one moment it seemed Harry was done for, and the next everything was over, and he was climbing back onto a steady broom, zooming directly for the ground with a hand clamped over his mouth like he were about to be sick.

A beat later he was triumphantly holding up the Snitch, a grin on his face that certainly didn't make one think he might have just nearly died.

Nobody cheered at first, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes, but eventually Lee began to shout shrilly that Gryffindor had won, his amplified voice echoing across the pitch, and suddenly the crowd was roaring their jubilation (apart from the Slytherins, who were booing and demanding a rematch like the petulant children they were).

Winona was ecstatic that they'd won the match, of course, but her concern for her friends, both old and new, weighed heavily on her mind. Muttering an excuse to Hope, Winona pushed her way down the rows of seats, making a beeline for the grassy pitch where Harry had been joined by Madam Hooch and the rest of the team.

Flint was screaming his fury at the unconventional win, but Madam Hooch just looked bored. "Potter broke no rules, Flint," she said dryly, a stern look to her pursed features. "Stop whingeing and go gather your wits elsewhere."

Flint gave a blackened sneer, and Winona wondered whether it was commonplace for Pure-bloods like him to have such bad dental hygiene.

Harry was grinning widely, gobsmacked that he'd won the match. Fred and George lifted him up onto their shoulders, starting a chant of, "Harry! Harry! Harry!" that caught on and echoed throughout the pitch.

Once he was lowered back down to the grass, Winona approached, pushing a gushing Wood out of the way. "You alright, Boy-Wonder?" she asked, just to be sure.

Harry beamed, holding up the Snitch as though she may have somehow overlooked it. "I won," he said, sounding like he barely even believed it himself.

"Yes, you did," Winona agreed, appeased that he seemed to be okay. She turned and saw McGonagall and Hagrid, Ron and Hermione all heading towards them, and quickly ducked in to ruffle the kid's hair. "Great flying out there," she finished, and he smiled wider as she turned to the twins, letting McGonagall get a word in over the cheers of the team.

"We did it!" Angelina was shouting. The twins were doing an odd sort of jig around her, Alicia and Katie, all letting out peals of hyper, triumphant laughter.

"Well done!" she called over their exuberant shouts, grinning widely at their excitement.

"Party tonight in the common room!" Fred announced loudly, and he was met with even louder cheers of enthusiasm.

That night Winona struggled to get as into the festivities as everybody else, and she noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked similarly unenthused. The twins had snuck down to the kitchens to gather supplies, deciding to forgo a trip to Hogsmeade since they were so eager to party.

Winona kept to herself, swaying absentmindedly to the music and nibbling on chocolate frogs, but her heart just wasn't in it, her mind occupied with thoughts of Harry nearly being thrown off his broom during the match. Eventually she could do nothing no longer and wound her way through the celebrating Gryffindors to come to a stop beside Harry and his friends, who were murmuring amongst themselves by the hearth of the fireplace.

"Hey guys," she greeted them, dropping down onto the floor at their side. They immediately fell silent, giving her the impression they didn't want anyone overhearing whatever they were talking about.

"Winona!" Harry exclaimed, seeming to relax when he saw it was just her. Hermione leaned forwards, a strange sort of spark to her warm eyes, like she was working overtime to try and figure something out. It instantly put Winona on edge.

"How'd you know about Fluffy?" Ron asked tactlessly, but Winona was at a loss, not even understanding the question enough to be able to answer it.

"What's a Fluffy?" she asked, bemused.

"A few weeks ago, when we were talking about-" the redhead cut himself off abruptly, leaning closer and lowering his voice, "about the three-headed dog on the third floor, you called it _Fluffy._"

"Did I?"

"We just found out today that that's its name," Hermione said, brown eyes narrowed in careful suspicion. "We asked Hagrid, but he said he never told you, so how did you _know_?"

Feeling somewhat backed into a corner, Winona could do no more than lift her shoulders in a pathetic sort of shrug. "I dunno," she said lamely. "Must have heard it somewhere." The first-years didn't look convinced. "I'm more concerned with Boy-Wonder over here," she added quickly. "What happened with your broom today? It was like it had a mind of its own."

The three were quiet exchanging a long, meaningful look. "Snape jinxed it," Harry finally spoke, and Hermione let out a squeak of protest. "We can trust her, Hermione," he insisted with a decisive nod, as though that was the end of it. Hermione was still eyeing Winona with distrust, but it didn't matter much to the older student, who just smiled happily at Harry before realising exactly what he'd said.

"Snape…jinxed…your broom?" she asked stiltedly, struggling to make sense of it.

"Hermione and I saw him," Ron interjected with a tinge of eagerness. Winona got the feeling he was sort of excited to talk about it with someone new. "He was muttering under his breath, and he wasn't blinking."

"Sounds like a jinx, all right," Winona murmured, unable to agree. "But _why_?"

"He tried to get past Fluffy," Harry said quietly, casting a long glance over his shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers. "He's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

"Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?" Ron asked.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air in sheer exasperation. "Why don't we just tell her our parent's banking pins while we're at it?" she hissed. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron just looked mightily confused.

"I don't know anyone called Nicolas Flamel," Winona answered Ron's question rather than respond to Hermione's words. "Is he a student here? I'm not very good with names, if I'm honest."

"It doesn't matter," Ron sighed, shaking his head.

"Could you...not tell anyone about this?" Harry asked her carefully. She cocked an eyebrow at the request. She couldn't say she exactly understood, but she wasn't about to deny the kid this. Either they were onto something big, or they were completely mad. Either way, she figured it was best not to send people all up in their business.

"All right," she agreed with a two-shouldered shrug.

"Not even the twins?" Ron interjected suspiciously.

Winona rolled her eyes. "Not even the twins," she promised, lifting a hand to draw an X on her chest. "Cross my heart."

Harry looked satisfied and Ron nodded slowly, but Hermione continued to frown.

"Winona!" George was shouting from across the room, and she cast a look over to see Fred and Lee locked in a tense arm wrestle, people loudly encouraging their chosen competitor.

"That's my cue," she told the trio, climbing to her feet and running her hands down the smooth denim of her jeans. "Stay sharp, you three," she said in farewell. Ron lifted a hand in a wave as she turned and traipsed across the room, joining her friends and trying not to think of the suspicious things that seemed to be happening at Hogwarts this year.

* * *

Christmas arrived and Winona began to prepare for her friends to all leave for the holiday. She was surprised, then, when Fred and George found her curled up in the common room a few nights before everyone was due to leave for home.

"We have news," they opened with, George dropping into the spot on the couch beside her, while Fred folded himself up on the ground before them. Both were smiling, which either meant something really _good_ or really _bad_ was going to happen. It was honestly a toss-up on which it would be.

"Enlighten me," she replied, shutting the cover of her ratty old sketchbook and looking between them curiously.

"Our parents have decided to abandon us this Christmas season," began Fred woefully, his loud dramatics causing a group of nearby second-years to shoot them bewildered frowns.

"Oh, how cruel they can be," George wailed.

"Get on with it," Winona rolled her eyes.

Both of them straightening, they dropped the act and came out with it. "We're staying at Hogwarts over the holiday this year," Fred told her. Winona lit up at the news.

"Yeah, mum and dad would rather spend Christmas with Charlie in Romania. Merlin knows why," George added with a low snicker.

"You're staying here?" she asked eagerly, barely hearing anything after that part.

"Yup," Fred was beaming away like Father Christmas.

"That's awesome!" she said brightly, practically bouncing in her seat she was so happy. "We can spend the holiday together!"

The days passed, and the holiday itself was upon them. Winona was glad to see that Harry had stayed behind for Christmas too. She wanted to spend more time with the boy; figure out why she kept having visions of his future. That, and maybe figure out why he seemed so familiar.

Winona spent all of her time with the twins during the days leading up to Christmas. They mostly played around in the snow, one of her favourite things to do. Then they liked to camp out near the fire and spend time playing stupid games like _Kiss, Marry, Kill_ or _Would You Rather. _It was fun and relaxing, everything Winona felt like she needed. Harry was always hanging out with Ron, and she didn't want to seem weird by engaging him in conversation out of nowhere, so she hung back and just let the chips fall where they may.

It wasn't until Christmas Eve that they actually got a chance to talk. The twins had challenged Ron to a game of Gobstones, and the three of them were sat by the fire, shouting at one another over the proper rules of the game.

Harry sat on the couch, watching with a happy, contented smile on his youthful face. Dropping down onto the couch beside him, he looked up in surprise, not having expected her to appear.

"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted him with a smile.

He smiled back. "Hi, Winona."

"You didn't wanna go home for the holidays?" she asked conversationally.

Harry's face scrunched up in something like distaste. "No way. The last place I wanna go is back there," he said bluntly. "Christmas with my aunt and uncle is always a nightmare."

Surprised by this information, Winona sunk down in the cushions and pressed for more. "You don't get on with them?"

"They hate me," he said it with no emotion, like it were just a simple fact of life. Despite the lack of feeling in his voice, there was still a sad gleam to his emerald eyes. She felt sympathy well within her.

"Y'know, I'm an orphan too," she admitted quietly. Harry suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation, sitting up straight and turning to face her properly.

"Really?"

"Yup. Parents died when I was three. I didn't have any family to take me in, though. I grew up in the foster system."

Harry's eyes were wide as he listened.

"Most of my foster families hated me too," she revealed in a quiet voice, trying to tell the boy how much she understood. "For eight years, the only gift I ever got at Christmastime was from my social worker – and even then it was usually just a coupon for a free milkshake at the local shopping centre."

The look in Harry's eyes told her he knew exactly how she felt.

"But Hogwarts is brilliant, isn't it?" she asked, lips twitching. He smiled back, nodding his head in vehement agreement. "I never knew what it was like to have a home until I came here," she added, glancing over at where George and Fred were arguing loudly with Ron about whose turn it was to set up the Gobstones. She smiled at the sight of them, warm in her gut.

"You really care about them, don't you?" asked Harry quietly. It was a strange observation from an eleven year-old, but she found it didn't surprise her. Harry seemed the observant type.

"They're the closest thing to family I've ever had," she confessed, before glancing over at him sharply. "Tell anyone I said something as sappy as that and I'll permanently singe off your eyebrows. You hear me, Potter?"

"Loud and clear," he agreed, but the grin on his lips told her that he wasn't taking it seriously. She fought back a smirk of her own. "Who were your parents?" he asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

"Jessica and Orion Andrews," she told Harry. "That's really all I know about them. Just their names."

"You don't remember them at all?"

"I remember my mum, kind of… I think she looked like me," she said with a faraway look in her eye. She could almost see Jessica Andrews in her mind's eye, but it was misty and faint, like a photo taken out of focus. She thought, maybe, in amongst all the fuzz, she could make out a dimpled smile and a head of inky hair.

"Did they go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously, and at the sound of his voice Winona was jolted from her hazy ghost of a memory.

She quickly nodded. "Yeah. They were both in Gryffindor – but that's about all I know."

"Why don't you ask Hagrid about them?" Harry suggested, excited by the idea. "I'm sure he could tell you loads about who they were. He's already told me stuff about my parents."

"I might do that," she lied, not having the heart to explain to him why she wouldn't. "Are your aunt and uncle good to you?" she asked Harry quietly, the thought striking her suddenly.

Harry looked uncomfortable, but he still answered honestly. "Not really," he admitted meekly. "They don't feed me much and they make me do all the housework, and I never get any presents."

He wasn't complaining, just merely relaying a set of facts to her, like someone in the stock market might relay that week's stock numbers.

"Do they ever hit you?" she asked, feeling like she needed to know. Like the answer mattered to her in a way she couldn't explain.

Harry fell silent, this time not answering. And that was all the answer she needed.

She wanted to apologise, but something told her that wasn't the way to go. Instead she leaned closer, shoving up the sleeve of her jumper to show him a jagged scar that ran along the length of her forearm.

"Got this in one of my first ever foster homes," she told him in a whisper. Harry's eyes were wide as he stared at the scar. "Let's just say it _wasn't_ an accident," she added just as quietly. It didn't cause her as much pain to think about, anymore. Maybe she was growing as a person; or maybe she'd just turned numb.

Harry swallowed, the sound loud despite the Weasley boys' shouting.

"We've all got our scars, Harry," she told him with a small smile. He met her eyes in the firelight. "You ever wanna show me yours, I'm here to listen." His hand shot up to the lightning-bolt scar sitting clear as day on his forehead. Winona was already shaking her head. "Not the one I mean," she said, and his young eyes grew wise with an understanding beyond his years.

"Okay," he agreed, sounding shy about the whole thing.

"Good," she chirped, the serious energy melting from her like an ice cube left out in the sun. Harry was surprised by the sudden change of atmosphere. "Come on then, Boy-Wonder," she said, reaching for Ron's chessboard, which lay abandoned on the floor while he versed his brothers at Gobstones. "Let's have a match."

Christmas day dawned and Winona awoke early, sitting up with a small yawn to eye the presents gathered in a pile at the foot of her bed.

She let herself wake up for a few more minutes before waiting no longer, scurrying down the bed to the pile, which she eagerly began to tuck into.

She got all the usual; a new outfit from the girls, a small hoard of her favourite sweets from Lee, a deep violet sweater from Mrs Weasley with a bright golden _W_ on the front. She opened the twins' gift last, tearing off the wrapping impatiently, only to reveal a small case full of brand new watercolours. They weren't the cheap kind either, and she stared at the gift with wide eyes.

She hated the thought of them spending their money on her – but at the same time it was such a perfect and thoughtful gift. Deciding to abandon her worry that they couldn't afford it, she cracked them open and immediately began to test the new colours.

She couldn't afford much – she received such a little allowance from the Ministry, after all – so she mostly stuck to sweets for everyone except the twins. Instead she'd gotten them each a set of new Beater's gloves. One had gold thread, the other crimson. They'd been needing some for ages, and she didn't mind paying the extra bit for the good kind.

She remained in bed, painting for what could have been hours, until finally she thought it was late enough in the day to wake the others up. Dressing quickly in worn old jeans and her brand new Weasley sweater, Winona padded down the stairs in her thick, woollen socks, then took a right and darted up the boys' staircase.

She stopped outside the third year boys' dormitory, knocking gently on the door.

"It's open!" yelled George's voice, and she pushed her way inside, grinning widely at the twins who were stood near the window, laughing about something or other. Crossing the space between them in a series of overexcited bounds, Winona reached Fred first and leapt onto his back like a monkey.

"How'd you know I needed new watercolours?" she asked into his shoulder, smiling as his arms covered hers, gripping her back with force.

"I guess I just do this weird thing where I actually pay attention when you talk," he joked, and she took an extra second to inhale his unique scent of gunpowder, fresh soil, and freshly spun sugar before unwinding her arms and legs and hopping towards George. Her other best friend caught her hand before she could hug him and promptly began to twirl her under his arm instead.

"You guys are the best," she said as George playfully spun her round.

"Merry Christmas, Thumbelina," said George, waiting until she was about ready to be sick before letting go of her hand and swiping up his new gloves, shaking them in her face. "Looks like someone else has been paying attention, too," he said. She grinned at him, knocking her fist gently into his shoulder.

"I see you got your annual Weasley sweater," said Fred from behind her. She realised suddenly that they, too, were wearing their sweaters. Both of them were a deep, cerulean blue that perfectly matched their crystal eyes.

"Best thing I own," she swore, hugging the sweater she was wearing tighter against herself, enjoying the soft wool against her skin.

"Come on," said George, already heading for the door. "Let's wake up the kiddly-winks," he chirped, leading them out into the hall then down a bit until they came to the first-year boys' dormitory, Fred close on his heels.

Winona followed after them, watching in amusement as they burst into their brother's dormitory, the door banging against the wall with a loud sound that made the two boys within nearly jump out of their skin in fright.

"Merry Christmas!" George bellowed enthusiastically.

"Hey, look – Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!" Fred added, pointing at the emerald green sweater laying limp on Harry's bed. "His is better than ours, though," he said, holding up the green sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family. Just look was Win's – she always gets the best colours."

"It's because she loves me more than you," Winona teased. Fred gave a squawk of playful indignation.

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded suddenly. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron grumbled as he pulled it on over his head. It fit perfectly, Mrs Weasley having it down to a fine art.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George said, gesturing to the front, which lacked the usual 'R'. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

It wasn't the first time they'd made that joke, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Winona's shoulders shook with laughter as she took a seat on the end of Ron's bed, gripping onto the post and grinning at them in amusement.

"What's all this noise?" a nasally voice said, and they all turned to look just as Percy stuck his head in through the cracked doorway. "Winona, you know you're not meant to be up here––" he tried to say sternly, but Fred caught sight of the familiar lumpy, off-yellow sweater draped over his arm and leapt on it like a frog on a fly.

"P for prefect!" he said, the words innocuous enough, but the tone teasing. "Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" Percy tried to argue, but the twins were having none of it. They forced the sweater over his mop of curly red hair, uncaringly knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," ordered George briskly. "Christmas is a time for family."

They paused long enough to shoot winks back at Winona before shoving Percy out the door and around the corner. Ron and Harry snorted in laughter, and Winona climbed to her feet. "I see you got some presents," she said to Harry gently.

The boy's face lit up with happiness. "Yeah," he nodded, grinning dopily, like he couldn't quite believe this was his life now, "I did."

Winona smiled back, understanding _exactly_ how young Harry felt. "You two'd better be ready for Christmas dinner," she said lightly as she made her way to the door. "The elves always go over and beyond. It's to die for."

She sent them a final smile before ducking out into the hall, intent on spending the rest of her morning sketching by the fire until they were expected in the Great Hall for the feast.

Dinner was exceptional, as it always was. She sat between the twins and opposite Ron and Harry, the latter of whom was more than slightly entranced by the wizard crackers laid up and down the tables.

Winona spent the meal arguing with Fred and George over which would win in a fight; a bear or a shark. When no conclusion was reached, they roped the two first-years opposite them into the debate. It was easy and fun, light in a way Winona had come to crave. They all wandered from the Great Hall a good few hours later feeling full and happy.

She was intending to make her way up to the common room and experiment with her new watercolours some more, but all thoughts of relaxation were squashed when, as the six of them slowly made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower – taking the scenic route in an effort to walk off their bloated stomachs – a sudden explosion of snow hit Percy right in the face.

The prefect let out an undignified squawk and Winona gasped, shaking off some of the frozen, powdery ice that had hit her in the process. Spinning around, they realised the twins had mysteriously disappeared, undoubtedly the ones behind the well-aimed snowball.

"Shit," she cursed, right before another snowball was lobbed through the window. She ducked just in time to avoid getting hit. "Take cover!" she screamed at Harry and Ron, both of whom were stunned by the sudden attack, frozen where they stood.

Laughing, Winona grasped Harry's arm, yanking him out of the way of another snowball and unceremoniously shoving him down behind a tree for cover. Ron yelped and dived for cover, hiding behind a small bank of snow along the edge of the courtyard.

Harry watched with wide eyes as Winona immediately began gathering snow in her hands, patting it into balls and placing them in a pile at the base of the tree. "Do this often?" he asked, noting with which the ease she moved, cheeks already red from the cold.

She answered with only an impish grin. "Got a good aim, Boy-Wonder?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

A snowball crashed against the tree they were hiding behind, fluffy snow raining down on them like pollen after a storm. "Well, we're about to find out," she said brightly. Matching her smile, Harry scooped up a snowball and leant around the tree, aiming for the twins hiding just across the courtyard.

The fight lasted well over an hour. Winona hadn't been wearing any gloves, and she called a ceasefire once she became genuinely concerned that her fingers were going to fall off. They all made their way back up to the tower, freezing cold and dripping wet but content all the same.

Winona had a shower, enjoying her time under the hot spray before dressing in her cosiest pyjamas and heading back down to the common room. She curled up on the couch and set to work sketching the snowy castle on a blank page of her book.

The twins took the opportunity to steal Percy's prefect badge, and she sat, utterly unbothered as Percy chased his brothers all around the common room, yelling weak threats their way when they refused to give it back.

All in all, it was a pretty spectacular Christmas. She might even go as far as to say that it was the best she'd ever had.

* * *

School started up again without hesitation and Winona suddenly found herself once more sitting in the damp, creepy dungeon between a giddy Fred and George, who were too busy making spitballs to listen to Snape's sneered lecture on Undetectable Poisons.

From there they went to Defence, where Quirrell kept stuttering over the word 'red' in Redcaps.

"Lighten up," George ordered her as they wandered back to the Tower, Winona dragging her feet and yawning every few steps. "Didn't sleep well?" he continued once Winona gave no witty retort.

"Do I ever?" she asked dryly.

"How can one person simultaneously love _and_ hate school so much?" Fred mused, stroking his chin as though deep in thought.

"It's not _school_ I hate," she argued. "It's the school_work_."

"Hate to break it to you, Winnie, but that's pretty much what school _is,_" Angelina reminded her while they walked. Winona rolled her eyes, unappreciative of the lame attempt at a joke.

With the start of a new term came more Quidditch practises – the twins complained that Wood was becoming fanatical, practically working them into the ground. Winona usually didn't mind sitting down on the Pitch while they practised, it was a good opportunity to sketch – that is, unless it was raining, which it happened to be doing _all_ _the_ _time._

So she stopped going down to the pitch, holing up in various hidden corners around the castle to work on her art. She liked to use the library especially, having always enjoyed not only the ambiance but also the smell of old books. It was peaceful, and usually made it convenient for when she knew she couldn't put off her homework any longer.

On one such day she had her sketchbook plus a thick tome on Herbology open before her. With one hand she absentmindedly sketched a doe in a field, every now and then glancing over at the book and forcing herself to read a few lines for the essay she was supposed to be writing.

She heard snickers to her right, and though she tried to ignore them they steadily grew more annoying, until finally she looked up to see Kerri Wu and Annalisa Hawthorn standing by her table. They were Ravenclaws in the year above her, and they were looking down their noses at where she sat – minding her own bloody business, by the way – and eyeing her critically.

"What?" Winona finally demanded grumpily.

"Did you know you have paint in your hair?" asked Wu with another judgemental snicker.

"No, but it honestly doesn't surprise me," she replied, unbothered, and turned back to her sketching.

Unfortunately, the cool response wasn't enough to make them lose interest. "Why're you always hanging around with those Weasley boys?" asked Hawthorn with another giggle.

"Because I'm shagging them," Winona replied without so much as a blink in their direction. The two Ravenclaws gasped like this were the juiciest scrap of gossip they'd ever heard, which to be fair, it probably was. But like most gossip, not a word of it was true. And also like most gossip, people like Hawthorn and Wu believed it.

"I knew it," hissed Wu triumphantly, and Winona wondered how two people could be so bloody _stupid._

"Both at once, Andrews?" asked Hawthorn slyly. "My, my, aren't you adventurous?"

"I guess I can't pick just one, y'know?" Winona responded, dry as could be.

"They are rather delicious," said Wu with a simpering little giggle. "For Gryffindors, I suppose."

"And you're rather stupid for Ravenclaws. But I wasn't going to say anything," Winona said, cool and detached. The girls gasped, offended, but Winona couldn't have possibly cared any less. The two turned and strutted away, hips swinging far too much for a pair of fourteen year old girls. Winona was just glad for the peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, as she would soon learn, all actions had consequences.

She was lounging in the common room the next afternoon, feet dangling over the armrest of the couch as she tried her hardest to concentrate on the chapter about vampires in her Defence textbook, when the twins wandered up to her slowly.

"Something you wanna tell us?" asked George, arms crossed over his chest. She looked away from her book and up at them, noting that they had the expression on their faces that they got when they wanted someone to _think_ they were being stern, but really they were holding back laughter.

"I fancy Snape, and he fancies me," she said dryly, turning back to her book without blinking. "We're planning a June wedding."

Fed laughed once, the sound was ringing with amusement. Winona smirked at a passage on the four most effective uses of garlic in vampire-protection.

"From what we heard, it's not Snape you're eloping with, but rather one of us," said George, and she looked up again, eyebrows raised high in surprise. "Or, troublingly enough, _both_ of us."

She frowned at them in playful confusion. "Are you proposing to me?"

Rolling their eyes, the twins crossed their arms and sent her a serious look. "Win, we've had nine separate people come up to us today and asked whether it's true you're shagging us – _at the same time_?"

Winona couldn't help the laughter that spilled from her lips. It was loud and unrestrained. The statement was utterly bemusing, and for a moment she had no idea what they were talking about – but then she remembered the throwaway comments she'd made the day before in the library. Laughter petering off, she gave a genuine wince.

"Uh, so Kerri Wu and Annalisa Hawthorn were pissing me off, and I told them I was boning you both to get them off my back," she confessed with a shrug.

"Winona, the entire school believes them," sighed George, exasperated.

"Be serious," she scoffed. "Nobody _actually_ believes it. They just like the gossip of it all. It'll pass."

This time it was Fred who sighed heavily. "Your sense of humour is going to get you killed one day," he said wryly.

"Probably," she agreed with a shit-eating grin. "But at least I'll go out laughing."

* * *

The game of Gryffindor against Hufflepuff came and went, but the rumours of Winona shagging the twins remained. All of their friends thought it was simply hilarious, making jokes about sneaking into a broom cupboard so she could have a go at them, too.

Only, it didn't stop there. It wasn't just the fact that everyone thought she was 'shagging the twins', it was that now she had a startling new label, one she certainly hadn't been expecting. Slut.

It took a lot to break through Winona's tough exterior, but even she had to admit, that one hurt. She never thought that would be something people would ever call her; but time makes a fool of us all, she supposed.

The worst part was that nobody would even say it to her face, and it was all done in whispers behind her back. She was only in _third year_ for Merlin's sake – surely people shouldn't have been saying these things about her when she was only thirteen years old. But the gossip train stopped for no one, apparently, and so she adapted, holding her head high and glaring murderously at anyone who so much as dared to snicker as she walked by.

Her lessons with Trelawney were draining, but on the plus side, she seemed to be making a little progress. The batty Divination professor had switched up the herbs she'd been burning in her room, saying that she was out of her usual and had to wait to go buy more.

Instead, this time, she burned lavender, the smell instantly relaxing muscles that Winona hadn't even realised had been tensed. She was meditating, something she'd grown to not _totally_ hate, when a vision came over her, dragging her down like merpeople drowning sailors in a bottomless sea.

She heard a cracking sound, quiet and unobtrusive, followed by a low croaking and an explosion of flames. She felt heat on her face, as though she'd stuck her head into a fireplace, and she saw something green glowing in moonlight from within her mind's eye. There were voices, young and familiar, but she couldn't place them over the whipping of the harsh, frigid wind.

When she finally came to, Trelawney still had her eyes shut, meditating and utterly oblivious to Winona's vision. Once she'd caught her breath, she rolled her eyes at how ridiculous the Divination professor was, before looking down at her most recent prediction.

Harry and Hermione were stood on top of the tallest tower of the castle, a medium-sized crate between them and a handful of wizards hovering up above on broomsticks. Winona stared at it for awhile, trying to make sense of it.

There was small puff of something coming from inside the crate at their feet, and it only took her a moment to identify it as smoke, then another moment to know – inexplicably – that there was a dragon within.

_Norbert_, the name came to her, unbidden. It was the most she'd ever been able to pull from a prediction before, and Winona was still staring down at the image twenty minutes later Trelawney's off-key humming came to an end and she opened her milky eyes.

"Ah," sighed Trelawney, rolling her neck. Winona grimaced when her joints cracked loudly, but the divination professor didn't notice. "Well, that was wonderful. Did you connect with your inner eye, my dear?"

Winona shook her head. "Not today," she lied, and Trelawney believed her – hardly surprising. Trelawney could be so gullible; which was awfully ironic considering her field of so-called 'expertise'. "But the meditation was good," she added kindly. "I feel so relaxed."

Trelawney lent forwards hopefully. "And are your chakras aligned?"

"Perfectly," Winona told her, the standard lie she gave at the end of every lesson. Trelawney nodded happily.

"I'll let you go now – a nice hot shower will help soothe your soul; and wash off the scent of the herbs."

Relieved, Winona stuffed her things into her bag, getting ready to leave.

"Oh, and you must work on your Tarot card readings," Trelawney continued as she stood to her feet to collect their used teacups. "It's an essential element in any Seer's collection of skills. You need to focus on connecting with your inner eye to channel your Sight into the cards. Have you managed to purchase a deck of your own, yet?"

Ah, she knew she'd been forgetting something. "Sorry, professor," Winona told her, meaning it this time. "I haven't had time to order some."

Trelawney batted her apology away. "No matter," she rasped, turning to a chest of drawers along the far wall and rooting through them for a moment before pulling free a small stack of worn old cards. "You may use these until you get your own. It's an older deck, but you'll find that gives it a life of its own."

Cautious, Winona took the deck from her, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you."

Climbing back down out of Trelawney's attic, Winona weighed the deck of Tarot cards in her hand as she walked back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. They felt strange, the worn cardboard seeming to prickle against her bare skin.

She'd always shied away from branching out into the different forms of divination, but something suddenly occurred to her. Maybe this could be a way of channelling her abilities without actually slipping into a vision. Maybe she could bypass the crypticness of it all entirely and just straight to the knowledge part.

With a resolve in her heart, Winona descended the stairs, a little bit lighter than when she'd gone up them.


	10. There are dark days ahead

A few days later the school woke up to find Gryffindor no longer in the lead for the House cup, and the story of Harry's late-night blunder came to light.

Harry, along with Neville and Hermione, had lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points in total, and he went from being the most popular and well-liked first year in the school to being the single most despised.

Apparently Harry and Hermione had fed Malfoy some bogus story about a dragon that Hagrid was hiding, and using that they'd led Malfoy up to the Astronomy Tower in attempt to make him look the fool.

Nobody except Winona knew the real story – or at least, what little she could gather from a hastily-drawn sketch and a force she called the 'ether' (it was really just another word for the Inner Eye that Trelawney always went on about; Winona just saw it differently). The dragon story was a real one, and they'd been doing it to save people, not to humiliate anyone.

Winona, who'd never particularly cared for the House cup herself, didn't really give a damn. Harry and Hermione had been trying to do the right thing – that was what mattered.

The twins, on the other hand, were majorly pissed. They'd practically shunned the three first-years, referring to Harry only as _the Seeker_ when they had to at Quidditch practise.

"You're being ridiculous," she chided them after practise one day. She'd seen the utterly heartbroken look on young Harry's face, and her insides had twisted with sympathy. Nobody deserved to be treated so harshly – especially not an eleven year-old kid who'd only been trying to help a friend.

"He cost us the House Cup, Winnie," Fred argued righteously.

"_You_ cost us the House Cup in _our_ first year when you tried to dose Snape with that love potion," she reminded him tartly. "Nobody ever hated you for that."

"Well, yeah – because that was _funny_!" said George, struggling to keep hold of the upper hand.

"So you're just going to keep ignoring the kid? He made a mistake, so what? S'not like the two of you are exactly saints, now, is it?" she snapped bitingly.

The twins only grumbled, and fed up, Winona gave a sharp exhale of frustration before speeding away from them. The pair called after her halfheartedly but she didn't care, moving faster until she made it up to Harry, who was walking alone up ahead of everyone, his head hung low and his shoulders slumped.

"Hey, Boy-Wonder," she greeted him just as she normally would, nudging him in the side to get his attention. He looked up quickly, startled, then his expression evened back out glumly. "Ignore the lot of them," she said, arms crossed over her chest. "They're just being petty."

"But they're your friends," he said, a crease between his brows.

"So are you," she told him. The frown on his face evaporated, replaced by surprise, but the gloominess returned just as quickly.

"I lost a _hundred and fifty points_, Winona," he reminded her sadly. "That isn't something everyone can just forgive."

Winona snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement. "They're points on a scoreboard, Harry, not human lives," she shot back. "Besides, you were doing the right thing by Hagrid and Norbert. I think your conscience can stay clear."

Harry kicked miserably at a loose stone on the ground. "Yeah, I s'pose..." he trailed off, only to look back up, eyes wide in shock. "Wait – how did you know about that?" he hissed. "How did you know about Norbert?"

Winona had to concede that she really should have been better at keeping secrets for somebody who held so many. And usually she was good at it – saying nothing, letting nobody know the things she did about the coming days that would test them all – but something about Harry brought her guard down. He was too easy to talk to, and she felt a kinship with him that she didn't even with the twins.

Because the twins were amazing, her best friends in the world, but they'd grown up in a huge, happy, loving family. No matter how hard they tried, they'd never truly understand what it was like to have no one; to learn how to fly under the radar to avoid beatings; to hide away spare food like a squirrel because you weren't sure when your next real meal would be.

They wouldn't ever be able to _get_ it. None of her friends would; all of them had families of their own. All except Harry. Apart from some of the Muggles her age she knew from the system, he was the only other orphan she knew. And somehow that bonded them in a way she couldn't explain.

There was also the whole Seeing-him-in-the-ether-since-she-was-eleven thing, but she liked to think the other points were more important.

With all this in mind and heart, Winona knew she could trust Harry, and she also knew she didn't want to lie. So she smiled mysteriously, lifting a finger and tapping it playfully against her nose. Harry's mouth opened and shut several times in the striking impression of a koi fish. She smiled wider, and opened her mouth to say more when hands grasped her shoulders, pushing her forwards.

"Come on, Winnie," said Angelina tightly, very clearly refusing to look in Harry's direction. "I wanna get started on that Astronomy homework."

Casting a final, apologetic smile towards Harry, Winona let Angelina link their arms and drag her away from the Boy-Wonder.

Days passed and Winona was forced to focus mostly on her studies. Exams were coming up and she knew she had to work hard if she wanted to at least scrape by with an _Acceptable_.

However, there was something coming. She could feel it in the same way she could feel a storm brewing on the horizon. It sat, heavy and insistent in her head, like a pressure against her eyes, a vision just dying to be set free. She wondered for days what it could possibly be.

The exams hit them like a wave, and then Winona was to busy to focus on the ominous feeling that sat low in her gut.

Until she was walking back to the Gryffindor common room after her Transfiguration exam, completely alone, when it finally happened. The dam in her mind gave way and all of a sudden she was flooded with visions. They flickered across her vision, and before she totally surrendered she felt her legs give way beneath her. She crumpled to the ground, just barely hanging onto sense long enough to pull her sketchbook from her book bag before everything went terrifyingly dark.

The vision was beyond powerful, she felt the urgency of it thrum through her veins, insistent and unforgiving. Sensation disappeared and she focused on what she was glimpsing.

The fluttering of wings from all around her, the smashing of some kind of stone. She saw fire all around her, it nearly scolded the skin of her face. It was harsh and she couldn't breathe, inhaling the thickened smoke of the flames.

It was clearer this time, more so than it had ever been. She shuddered with the force of it, with the impact of the knowledge filling her head.

And then it was over and she was gasping for air like she'd been held underwater for an hour, blinking at the world around her, relieved to be back in the present. She looked down at her sketchbook, taking in the blindly drawn lines on the fresh slab of parchment.

She had to find Harry. She had to tell him what she'd seen.

As she raced back up to Gryffindor Tower, the thought crossed her mind that she really should have been going straight to Dumbledore. That was what she was supposed to do, that was what she had _agreed_ to do – but she couldn't help the instincts that were scratching at her innards, telling her exactly who to tell – and who _not_ to tell.

Because when it came down to it, Harry was his own person. She shouldn't have had to run everything through Dumbledore. What right did that old man have to dictate what she could and couldn't tell Harry? He wasn't Harry's guardian, and he certainly wasn't hers. Besides, she knew that this was something Harry Potter had to do for himself.

She found Ron, Hermione and Harry already sitting in the common room. The majority of Gryffindor were still completing their exams, so the room was almost completely empty. Only a group of fourth years in the corner remained, leant over Herbology notes with wild eyes, furiously cramming for their upcoming test.

She moved over to the young trio, a frown pulling at her mouth. "I need to talk to you," she said softly, crouching down to their level where they were clumped around the hearth, the light of the fire flickering on their young, chubby faces.

" 'Bout wha'?" asked Ron, halfway through chewing a pumpkin pasty.

Gathering her courage, she lowered herself to the rug below, leaning in further to ensure nobody else could overhear. "I know about the trap door. I know you're planning to go through it," she said quietly. The looks of shock on their faces were almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.

"But – but we're not," said Ron, gaping at her once he'd swallowed his mouthful. "I mean, we were just talking about _not_ going down..."

"You were?" she blinked, one hand moving to press over her bag, where her sketchbook lay idle. "I'm early?" she asked herself in confusion, crease appearing between delicate brows.

"Winnie, what are you talking about?" asked Harry, serious and maybe a little bit frustrated.

And Winona didn't want to lie. She lied all the time. She was sick of it. Maybe she didn't know exactly what connected her and Harry, but she knew, deep in her gut, that something did. And if there was one rule a Seer should always follow, it was that they had to follow their gut.

"I'm a Seer," she blurted, admittedly tactless.

The trio of first-years fell carefully silent, varying degrees of disbelief on their faces. Ron's mouth had dropped open wide. Harry looked confused, maybe trying to work out what she was ultimately trying to say. Hermione, however, was frowning crossly, more than unimpressed by Winona's proclamation.

"A Seer?" she was the first to speak, staring across at Winona dubiously, the firelight dancing across her young face, casting shadows across it like caverns on the moon. "Winona, getting top marks in Divination doesn't make you a Seer-"

Indignation rose within her, and Winona glared at the young girl with enough fury that, for once in her life, Hermione Granger shut the fuck up. Satisfied that the girl was going to be quiet, she yanked one of her older books free of its place at the bottom of her bag, flipping it open with practised ease until she found the page she was looking for.

"I drew this when I was eleven," she told Harry, handing it over to him and trying not to roll her eyes when Hermione and Ron clamoured closer to look. It was the picture of him, just standing there, all baby fat and messy hair and sad, glittering green eyes.

"You knew me when you were eleven?" Harry asked, voice quiet. Winona couldn't name the emotion in his voice, but that wasn't surprising. She didn't do so great with the emotional aspect of, y'know, being human.

"No," she told him evenly, meeting his eyes. "No, I didn't."

"How do you know you're a _real_ Seer, though?" asked Ron critically. "Maybe you just got lucky."

"Dumbledore knows," she told them, peeking over her shoulder just to be sure the fourth years in the corner were still absorbed by their study notes. "So does Trelawney, the Divination Professor. I meet with her once a week." Ron's eyes were wide. "That and the fact that I've drawn plenty of things that have actually come true."

"Like what?" asked Harry, finally looking away from the sketch of himself to blink up at her.

"People falling down stairs, or food fights in the great hall. Nothing life changing." The memory of drawing Dumbledore's death burned red hot in her head, but she kept her mouth shut. That was none of their business, and despite her breaking her word and telling them about her ability, she wasn't about to go that one step further and destroy the Headmaster's trust completely. "You're going to go down that trap door. Soon."

They all looked up at her now, bewilderment on their faces. "But we don't _want_ to," argued Harry with a downward pull of his mouth. He still wasn't getting it.

"Something's going to change," she whispered. "And then you will."

"What is it?" asked Hermione, brown eyes narrowed skeptically. "What's going to change?"

Winona fought to keep herself from grimacing at the question. "I don't know," she confessed.

"Why not?"

"I'm not Cassandra Vablatsky," she snapped. Hermione flinched under the assault and Winona shifted guiltily. Breathing deeply, she muttered a, "sorry," before gently taking her sketchbook back from Harry. "Look, let me know before you're planning to go down," she said, shoving the book back into her bursting bag.

"Well, we're _not_ planning on doing that," said Harry, still mightily confused.

"Okay, but when you are, come find me first."

"But we're not-" began Ron.

She held up a hand. "Just give it a few days, okay? If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I'll owe you a Coke or something."

"A what?"

"Never mind," Winona sighed, catching sight of the tiniest hint of a smile on Harry's face. "Look, I've gotta go, but you guys need to promise me something."

"What?" asked Hermione, immediately suspicious. It was as though she half expected her to try to coerce them into committing high treason or something. The lack of faith was as offensive as it was understandable.

"Don't tell anyone what I can do," she said rather than rise to the bait, lowering her voice just to be safe. "It's really important that nobody knows."

"Do the twins know?" asked Ron without so much as a breath.

Winona scoffed. "Of _course_ the twins know," she said dryly, pointing at him and smirking at the others as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. "No one else though. I trust those two with my life, which means that if this leaks, I'll know for sure it was one of you and I don't care how young you are, I'll kill every last one of you. Capisce?"

Now the trio of eleven year olds looked truly scared. "Promise," said Harry, the only one brave enough to respond. She nodded, accepting it at their word.

"Why tell us at all, though?" questioned Hermione, sounding confused. "I mean, what's so special about us?"

Winona's lips pulled up into a wry smirk, amused by the question in a way she didn't completely understand. "I'm not sure yet," she told Hermione honestly. "But there's definitely _something._"

The kids all glanced at one another, and Winona took the opportunity to stand to her feet. They watched her, eyes following her movements.

"Remember, a soul finds out and your arse is grass," she warned, and Ron gulped loudly at the threat. Wiggling her fingers in their direction, she turned to leave, exiting out the portrait hole, doing her best not to panic about the fact that she'd just told a group of eleven year-olds her most dangerous secret.

Something told her she could trust them – and even that it was _vital_ they knew, for reasons she couldn't yet understand – and so she forced herself to take a deep breath and continue on her way to the Great Hall for lunch.

But for the whole rest of the day, she couldn't for the life of her get this trap door situation out of her mind. There had to be more she could do to help – there just had to be.

That night, as the dorm mates were chattering about exams and getting ready for bed, Winona made up an excuse about forgetting something in the common room and left their dorm. The common room was mostly empty – only a handful of fifth years in the corner, desperately cramming for their OWLS – and so she was able to slip up the boys' staircase unnoticed.

She knocked briskly on the boys' door, and a moment later it was pulled open to reveal George. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Winnie?"

From his place up the back of the room next to his bed, Fred lifted his head.

Winona smiled at George in greeted and ducked smoothly under his arm, one hand holding her bag close to her side as she made her way towards the Fred. "Mind if I hang out in here awhile?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"We have our Potions exam tomorrow," said George even as he shut the door after her. "Don't you wanna get some rest?"

Winona shook her head. "Rest won't do anything to help me pass," she said, keeping her voice low when she noticed Lee snoring loudly from his bed in the far corner. "Besides, I have more important things to be working on."

The twins exchanged a glance. "What do you need?" asked Fred.

"Peace and quiet," she said, already fishing in her bag for her materials. She pulled out first a few small candles, placing them around the room and lighting them with a flick of her wand. Then she climbed onto Fred's bed and settled in the middle of the mattress, already pulling out her sketchbook and a stick of charcoal.

"You're trying to induce a vision?" asked Fred, putting it together.

"I can't exactly do it in my own dorm," she replied, rolling her neck in an effort to try and relax. The twins were silent, and she opened her eyes, suddenly guilty. "Is this okay?" she asked, realising that storming her way into their dorm and taking up all the space on Fred's bed wasn't exactly the polite way of asking for help.

But Fred was quick to wave away her concern. "Of course," he said without hesitation. "I'll crash with George."

Winona's lips twitched up. "You're going to share a bed?"

George shrugged. "We shared a crib for the first two years of our life – so we've certainly got enough practise."

She laughed, keeping quiet for Lee's sake.

"How long do you need?" asked Fred.

"I don't know," she told him honestly. "It could take awhile."

"What are you looking for?"

Winona frowned, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. She hadn't brushed it before leaving her dorm, so it was hanging around her face, wavy from the braid she'd had it in all day. "I don't know yet," she admitted. "I think I'll just know it when I find it."

The twins exchanged another look. "But it's important?"

She nodded. "Very."

George smiled. "Then you'd better get to work."

The twins settled onto George's bed, flicking up a quick Silencing Charm so they could talk without distracting her. Winona shot them a grateful smile before straightening her spine, shutting her eyes, taking a deep breath, and letting her mind go blank.

Meditating wasn't her favourite thing to do, but she'd grown to find a certain peace in it. It was nice to stop thinking for awhile; just to let herself exist without worry or anxiety and the inane chatter that forever lingered in one's mind.

She reached out with her senses, blindly searching the aether and breathing in the stimulating herbs from Trelawney's candles. When she was meditating, time meant nothing. She wasn't aware of the seconds, minutes, or hours ticking by. All she knew was the aether, that sea of _something_ that ran throughout space and time, rushing through her and all other living things like a current. She just swam.

The trouble with not knowing what you were looking for was not being able to know it when you saw it. But something in her – distant and powerful – knew exactly what she needed to find, and it searched for her, diving through the riptide of time to catch it.

She wasn't sure how long she was under before she was finally triggered into the vision she needed to have.

Everything was hot, fire licking at her skin, the orange flames dancing in the corner of her eye. Smoke was filling the room, nearly choking her, and there was a hissing voice, evil and dripping with venom. Winona felt danger prickling at her skin, a warning. The voice grew angry, she could tell that much even through the words were indistinct.

Closer and closer the voice came, like hot breath on the back of her neck; a searing pain in her forehead, like her skull was lit on fire and being split in two. Someone was screaming, begging for something – but what?

Winona came out of the vision with a gasp, immediately dropping her head into her hands, cradling it gingerly, the pain slow to recede.

"Winnie?" came Fred's voice, low with concern.

Winona didn't answer, wrenching open her eyes despite the pain and peering blearily down at the glimpse of future she'd etched onto paper.

Harry was standing with Quirrell, but the Defence teacher didn't look like himself. His features – drawn hastily in crude lines of black charcoal – were twisted into a poisonous snarl, and his hands were outstretched, wrapped around Harry's neck.

Heart hammering in her chest, Winona stared at the prediction a moment longer, searching the aether for answers.

_Now_, something whispered in the very back of her mind. _Now!_

"I have to go," she blurted. The twin – who by now were hovering together at the end of Fred's bed, watching her in concern – stepped backwards as she hastily shoved her things back into her back and leapt from the bed.

"Win, what's going on?" Fred called after her as she raced for the door. Distantly she heard Lee snort himself awake, but she paid him no mind.

"I'll explain later!" she shouted back to Fred, yanking open the dorm door and sprinting down the stairs into the common room.

Winona glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner, stunned by how late it was – had she really been out of it for so long?

Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't anywhere in the common room, and just when Winona was about to storm her way back up the stairs to bang on the first years' door, she spied something laid motionless on the floor in the walkway near the portrait hole.

"What the…?" she trailed off, pulling out her wand just to be safe as she approached. It didn't take her long to realise it was just a kid – a first year judging by his chubby cheeks. He was in a Full Body Bind, and though she didn't know his name, his eyes were screaming out for help.

She flicked her wand at him, muttering the counter curse, and the poor kid's stiffened limbs relaxed. He sat up, relief making his body limp.

"What happened to you?" she asked him as he slowly climbed to his feet. "Did a Gryffindor do this?"

The kid took a moment to swallow loudly and wring his hands together anxiously. "It-it was Ron, H-Harry, and H-Hermione," he stuttered, eyes wet with something like betrayal.

Winona leant down slightly, so their eyes were level, and said, "tell me everything."

Once the kid – Neville, he said – was finished with his short tale, Winona sent him up to bed with a promise to take care of it. That had made poor Neville terribly nervous ("If you go after them, you'll just lose us points, too!") but Winona was stern enough that he reluctantly made his way back up to his dorm.

The moment he was out of sight, Winona was gone. Her bag banged hard against her thigh as she climbed through the portrait hole and sprinted back through the castle, but she barely felt it.

She wasn't caught on her way to Dumbledore's office, which was lucky, because she definitely didn't have time to explain any of this to some unwitting teacher. She shouted the password at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's study, then took the stairs two at a time until she reached the top.

She banged her fist hard against the door, but there was no answer from within. When she tried the handle, however, the door was already unlocked. Winona pushed her way into the room, but Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.

She stood in the centre of his large, circular office, doing her best to catch her breath as she thought through her predicament.

Maybe she should have gone straight to the trap door instead? Maybe coming all the way up here was a waste of time? Surely there was something she was meant to do, some reason she'd even had any vision at all.

Just as she was about to run back down to the third-floor corridor and try tackling this whole thing herself, the fireplace exploded with green flames and Dumbledore appeared, more serious than Winona had ever seen him.

"Professor!" Winona cried, relief like a drug. "It's Quirrell! Quirrell's the one after the stone! He's down there with Harry right now. He's going to try to kill him!"

"You had a vision?" Dumbledore asked, thunder in his voice and eyes.

"There're flames, and a mirror, and Quirrell's choking him, and-and-"

"Stay here," Dumbledore ordered her shortly.

"But I need to come!" she argued. "I can help!"

Dumbledore crouched to her level much like she had with Neville only a few minutes earlier. His large, gnarled hand came to rest on her small shoulder, gripping her tight, sapphire eyes narrowed as he stared her down.

"Voldemort is in this castle at this very moment," he told her urgently, trying to make her understand. "If he discovers you – if he gets his hands on you for even a _moment_-" he cut himself off, as if the words were too horrible to say aloud. "Harry will be okay – but you need to stay hidden. Do you understand, Winona?"

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, barely able to speak. "Yes, sir," she finally choked out.

With a final nod Dumbledore swept from the room, disappearing down his stairs and out of sight. Fingertips trembling, Winona took a seat in her usual chair at his desk, leaning back against the plush lining, and stared into the fire as time ticked by at a snail's pace.

* * *

Winona was awoken by a gentle shaking of her shoulder. She shot upright instantly, eyes wide with panic that dissolved once she realised it was just Dumbledore.

He was leant over her, blue eyes twinkling merrily from behind his half-moon spectacles. There were no windows in his office, but somehow she knew it was daytime. At some point she'd fallen asleep and, mortifyingly enough, the Headmaster had covered her in a blanket – some old knitted throw that smelt of mothballs.

Now he woke her up, patient and gentle once more – a sharp contrast to the wild eyes of the night before.

"How do you feel?" he asked once she seemed alert, making his way back to his desk chair and taking a seat. With a wave of his hand the tea set on the side table began to prepare itself.

"Harry?" she asked rather than answer.

"Well enough," Dumbledore told her quietly. The answer was hardly comforting. He seemed to note the frustration in her eyes and a small smile twitched at his lips, only serving to irritate her further. "Harry nearly died last night," he began, and Winona sucked in a sharp breath. "But he didn't. He's alive; recovering in the Hospital Wing. He's going to be fine after a good few days rest."

Winona's mouth felt dry, so she was relieved when the teacup floated towards her. Plucking it from the air, she drank it down, uncaring that it burnt her tongue.

"Why was Quirrell attacking him?" she asked once she'd found her voice. "What was he after?"

Dumbledore assessed her for a few moments, eyes narrowed and considering. Winona stared back, forcing herself to be patient. She wouldn't get anywhere by stubbornly demanding answers.

Finally the Headmaster sighed, leant forwards in his chair, and began to tell her about how Voldemort had been hidden in the back of Quirrell's turban, and how Harry had been able to defeat him down the trapdoor with nothing but his bare hands and his mother's lasting love.

Winona listened, taking it all in without a word. When Dumbledore was done, he leant back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, waiting patiently for her to speak. When she didn't, he seemed vaguely surprised.

"Surely you knew something like this was coming," he said, eyes intense.

Winona shook her head, then reconsidered and fell still . "I knew something bad was coming – but You-Know-Who returning?"

"Voldemort hasn't returned," Dumbledore corrected her softly. "Not really. Not to his true power. Not _yet._" Winona didn't react to the scary statement, and Dumbledore's lips twitched up into a grim smile. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Winona's mouth went dry again, and so she finished off the last of her tea. "I know there are dark days ahead," she whispered, staring down into the leaves in the bottom of her tea cup. Some distant part of her mind recognised a wonky cross in the shape of the leaves; _suffering._ She didn't want to think about that now. "My dreams are so horrific these days. I don't remember any of it clearly, but there's a darkness in them – in the future they come from…"

Dumbledore said nothing, perhaps sensing she wasn't looking for his empty reassurances. She didn't want to hear him tell her everything was going to be okay. She wasn't interested in pretty lies.

"Why did I even _have_ that vision last night?" she asked after a silence that seemed to stretch on for yonks. Dumbledore tilted his head, asking her to elaborate. "I saw Quirrell attacking Harry, but not in time to do anything to stop it. It was useless. I didn't do anything towards helping. If anything, I was in the way. I would have been better off staying in my dorm. So why did I even have the vision at all?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared at her over them, the look in his crystal eyes thoughtful. "Were you actively searching for a vision?" he wondered.

Surprised by the question, Winona frowned. "Well, yeah," she said. "I had a bad feeling and I wanted to know why."

"Well then I presume that's your answer," Dumbledore told her patiently. Confused, Winona just stared. "You were searching for a vision. You forced one into being – and I'm not saying that was a wrong thing to do," he amended quickly, lifting a hand when she grew defensive. "All I'm saying is, it didn't come from the – what was it you call it?"

"Aether."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "The invisible force that permeates and binds all living things. An apt name for the rare phenomenon of true precognition."

Winona didn't say anything, and Dumbledore leaned back again as he continued on.

"I believe you didn't get a vision earlier because what happened last night was _supposed_ to happen. Nothing was meant to be changed or altered in any way."

"But why not?" she asked, the question coming out whined.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Some things aren't for us to know. But all the same, it's best to listen when the aether talks to you. It's there for a reason."

For some reason her heart was racing, like her insides knew the burning truth of the Headmaster's words. "Can the things I See ever even be changed?" she breathed. "Because what's the point if they can't? Then all of this is for nothing."

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed, but neither turned to look at it. Dumbledore's usual airy expression evaporated, replaced by something sharp and intent, radiating with grave importance.

"Something was set into motion last night," he began slowly and deliberately, making sure she heard every word. "Something bigger than any of this; something dark, dangerous. Something that will test us all and force us to make sacrifices we cannot bear."

Winona swallowed thickly.

"There are days coming, Winona, when your Sight is going to _save lives_; the lives of complete strangers, and that of those most close to you. Everything happening now? This is all just practise for when those days arrive. Do you understand?"

She didn't, not really, but she nodded anyway.

"You have these abilities for a reason. And one day that reason is going to make all the sense in the world."

"Why can't that day be today?" she asked. The question made her sound like a child, but when it was all boiled down – wasn't that exactly what Winona was? She liked to think she was mature, that she'd grown up fast – and in some ways that was true. But in reality Winona was still only just a fourteen year old girl. She was still just a kid.

Dumbledore smiled and Winona found it tinged with sympathy. "That day will come, and when it does it will feel like mere minutes since we had this conversation," he told her gently. "Be patient and keep moving."

Winona could do nothing but agree. Dumbledore sent her off after that, telling her to get back to her dorm and get some quality rest before her Potions exam later that afternoon.

She walked back to the tower alone, and she was stopped by no less than five separate people wanting to know if the story of what happened with Harry and Quirrell was true. She figured they were asking because she was known to be a friend of Harry's, but she wasn't about to tell them anything. With a few well-timed insults, Winona was able to escape their clutches and hightail it back to her dorm.

She was expecting an onslaught of attention from her friends the moment she clamoured through the portrait hole, but instead they were sitting by the fire and eagerly discussing the rumours of last night's events.

"Winnie!" called Alicia as she caught sight of her. Cautiously Winona approached. "Did Flitwick give you bad news?" she asked conversationally.

Winona blinked. "Huh?"

"Y'know, the meeting you just had with him?" Fred prompted her abruptly. "You were so slow to get out of our dorm this morning, I thought you might have actually missed it."

And then she understood. Fred and George had devised a cover story for her so that nobody would ever think to link her disappearance and the events of the night before. It was genius, really. Winona sometimes fell asleep in the boys' dorm after staying up too late sketching or hanging out, so it wasn't an unheard of situation.

Quickly, she leapt on the opportunity to keep her whereabouts a secret. "No bad news – he just wanted to clarify one of my answers."

Angelina perked up. "Did he give you your grade yet?"

"No, not yet."

Then Lee asked eagerly if she'd heard what had happened with the three first years and Professor Quirrell the night before, and playing dumb, Winona quickly nodded her head. Lee launched into a retelling of the story – absolutely jam-packed with embellishments – but Winona pretended to listen with rapt attention.

During Lee's long-winded, theatrical explanation, Winona caught Fred's eye. He was across from her, playing a halfhearted game of cards with Katie, but he looked up when he felt her watching him.

Meeting his stare, she smiled, wide and full of gratitude. "Thank you," she mouthed when nobody else was paying her any attention. He grinned, so broad it threatened to split his face in two, and batted his hand like he were swatting away her thanks.

It wasn't until the next day that she saw Hermione and Ron. They were down by the lake, doing their best to hide from eager students looking for the real story behind their grand adventuring. She split off from her friends, watching as they wandered towards the lake. It was a weekend, so robes weren't compulsory, and they'd dressed in old clothes they didn't mind getting wet, just so they could enjoy the warmer weather down by the edge of the lake.

Hermione and Ron were sat by the base of a willow tree, talking between themselves quietly. Winona almost felt bad to interrupt – but they were only a pair of eleven year-olds. How much could she really be intruding?

"Winnie!" said Ron the moment he spied her. She waved to the pair, taking a seat on the bank beside them.

"How's Harry?" she asked them quietly.

"Still out cold," said Ron, disappointment and worry on his freckled face. "Dumbledore said he'll tell us once he's woken up."

"Do they think it'll be long?"

Hermione shook her head. "Pomfrey says any day now."

"Good," Winona nodded. They sat in silence for a minute, and in the distance they could hear Alicia and Katie squealing as the boys splashed them with cold lake water. "Why didn't you come find me?" she asked, brow furrowed. "I could have helped."

Hermione and Ron suddenly looked guilty, and Winona felt a little glad they were at least a little sorry for their actions. "We managed well enough," Ron still said, a little defensive.

Winona didn't react to meet his energy. "And imagine how much _better_ it'd have gone if you'd had a Seer with you," she told him simply. Ron grimaced, seeing her point, but Winona wasn't done. "Not to mention that I'm a third year. I might not be the school's star pupil, but even I know more defensive magic than the three of you put together."

"We get it, Winnie," Ron rolled his eyes. But by now, Hermione looked properly chagrinned.

"It all happened rather quickly," she said sheepishly. "If we'd had longer to think, we might've-"

"It's okay, Hermione," Winona assured her. "You don't have to convince me. I just want you guys to know you can trust me – anything you need, okay?"

The pair exchanged a silent glance, but Winona was so used to it from the twins that it hardly bothered her at all. "All right," Hermione finally agreed.

"Good," Winona smiled. "And let me know when Harry's up for visitors, yeah?" Just as they nodded Winona's friends began to call her name from the water's edge. "That's my cue," she said, and with a wave of farewell Winona made her way back over to her friends.

The next day Winona was sketching by the window in the Gryffindor common room when Hermione approached, happiness in her eyes. "Harry's awake."

Winona sat up straight. "Right now?"

Hermione nodded. "Ron and I just got back from the hospital wing," she explained. "Madam Pomfrey's pretty strict about visitors, but so long as you don't stay too long she should let you in."

Winona thanked Hermione and began to pack up her things. It wasn't until she was out of the common room and halfway up to the hospital wing that Winona remembered a rather glaring issue with her plan to visit Harry.

Taking a detour, Winona found Fred and George by the Entrance Hall, playing with a small pile of Filibuster's Fireworks for a group of enraptured first years.

"Winnie!" the twins cried when they spotted her, and Fred was quick to throw one of the heat-less sparks towards her. She caught it in her hand and then did a theatrical toss to throw it back to him. The first years all laughed, attracting even more to them, like some kind of homing signal.

Winona caught Fred's eye and without a word he tossed his sparks to George who cheerfully went about juggling them like a clown at the circus. Winona wound her arm through Fred's and began to lead him away. Her best friend came without question, giving only a meaningful nod to George in farewell.

"I need help," she began, still keeping their arms linked as she began to navigate them back up towards the hospital wing.

"Sure," said Fred easily.

"Harry's just woken up, and I want to go visit him in the hospital wing."

Fred fell quiet, a little bit surprised. "Really?" he asked, sounding befuddled. "You wouldn't even come visit George and I that time we accidentally glued our backsides together."

And it was true – up until this point, the only time Winona had ever been in the hospital wing was when she'd broken her arm the year before and passed out, having woken up only to get the hell out of there as fast as her feet would take her.

But this time was different. Harry hadn't just accidentally glued himself to someone, or lost his eyebrows fro ma faulty joke product – he'd been face to face with (what little remained) of Voldemort himself. He'd nearly been killed, right here at Hogwarts, beneath their very feet.

She needed him to know he wasn't alone. That he had someone who understood. Winona had been there with him, in a distant, magical sort of way. She'd seen Quirrell's hands wrapped around his young throat. She'd smelt the smoke from the fire in the doorway. She'd listened to Voldemort's hissing voice, words indistinct but hatred bleeding clear.

"I need to see him," was all she told Fred. She didn't feel like putting any of it into words. But thankfully, Fred was the kind of person who knew when not to ask questions.

"Okay," he agreed. "Let's go."

He didn't try and talk her through it. He didn't give her lame advice like breathing or mindfulness. He just kept their arms linked and walked with her, letting her too know that she wasn't alone.

The door to the hospital wing was open when they arrived, and Fred kindly said nothing when Winona's hands began to tremble. "You ready?" he asked quietly.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she breathed, and he unwound his arm from around hers to instead reach for her hand. He gripped her tight, squeezing thrice in quick succession, then gently let go and pushed her towards the door. She glanced back at him, a seed of panic in her heart. "I can't do it alone," she said, feet seeming welded to the floor.

"You can, Win," he promised her. "You don't need me to hold your hand. You're brave enough all on your own."

She hesitated. "How do you know?"

He grinned. "Because I know you."

He shooed her away, encouraging her through the massive double doors.

"Go on," he said confidently. "I'll wait out here for you."

"Nah," she told him, voice coming out a little bit hoarse. "You can head back. I just needed help getting all the way up here without chickening out."

Fred lifted a hand in a playful salute. "You know where to find me," he reminded her as he turned to leave.

Winona watched him go before turning to the gap between the doors. She took a deep breath into her lungs then stepped inside the dreaded hospital wing. Pomfrey was standing by the cabinet near the entrance, and the stern old witch looked up when Winona walked in.

"Um, I'm here to see Harry," Winona said, hands shoved deep into her pockets as she did her best not to panic.

Pomfrey eyed her suspiciously. "Name?"

Unsure why that mattered, she said, "Winona Andrews?"

Pomfrey nodded once. "Dumbledore said I was to let you through when you came," she said, somehow making the simple sentence sound threatening. "But Mr. Potter's to get as much rest as possible. If I find you overexciting him you'll be tossed out before you can say 'Skele-Gro'."

Winona just nodded in understanding. Satisfied her threats had worked, Pomfrey drew back one of the curtains surrounding a bed in the corner to reveal Harry himself. He looked perfectly healthy, sitting upright in his bed with a box of Bertie Bott's in his lap and a card held open by his face.

"Winnie," said Harry in surprise as she approached, apparently so distracted by his fan-mail that he hadn't heard her conversation with the healer outside. Pomfrey dragged shut the curtain wall once more, giving them some semblance of privacy, and Winona tried not to think about how claustrophobic she found herself feeling. "What're you doing here?"

"Facing my fears, apparently," she muttered, hiding her trembling hands in her pockets as she forced herself to take a seat by Harry's bedside.

"Huh?"

"I don't like hospitals," she told him, grimacing down at the bed like it were one of the reasons she loathed it here. "Never have."

"So then, why're you here?" asked Harry, sounding adorably confused.

"To see you, Boy-Wonder," she rolled her eyes. "I needed to see you were alive with me own two eyes. You can't trust the gossip mill in this place – half the student body still thinks I'm shagging the twins. Morons."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Didn't _you_ start that rumour?"

"By _accident_," she argued defensively. "It was really all just a big misunderstanding." Harry laughed, and she figured she couldn't be upset while a kid in a hospital bed was_ laughing_, so she put aside her indignation and focused on him. "You're really okay?" she asked gently once his chuckles petered off.

Harry sighed. "I s'pose you want to hear the story, too," he said tiredly.

"Not if you don't wanna tell it," she replied, and he looked up in surprise. "I already know most of what happened," she added, lifting a hand to tap at her forehead knowingly, "but if you feel like you need to talk about it, I'm happy to listen."

Harry seemed to consider her offer. "How much do you know?"

"In my vision Quirrell had his hands around your neck," she told him quietly. "I could smell smoke and You-Know-Who's voice was more of a hiss than anything else. I didn't see that much, but what I did was terrifying, and so I'm really, really happy that you're okay."

Harry let the silence drift a few moments more. "Sorry we didn't come to you before we went down the trap door," he said suddenly.

She waved the apology away. "I already spoke with Ron and Hermione. Don't sweat it."

Madam Pomfrey dropped something outside the curtains and Winona flinched at the sound. "You really don't like hospitals, do you?" he mused.

"Can't stand them."

"Why not?"

Winona pursed her lips, eyes drifting over the pile of goodies given to him by his legions adoring fans. "I'll tell you if I can have a Sugar Quill," she bargained. Harry grinned – far too brightly for someone who was just almost murdered, in her humble opinion – and picked up the container holding the Quills, offering them to her. She selected a purple one, then sank down in her uncomfortable chair to suck on it.

And the hospital wing was still an awful, sterile place that made her want to run far, far away. She was half convinced Doctors were going to appear from thin air, strap her to a bed and pump her full of drugs she didn't want. But the longer she stayed there, the less likely that seemed to happen.

Harry was watching her, patient and sweet, and Winona felt the bubble of anxiety in her chest begin to loose volume, shrinking and shrinking until it was barely there at all. She took another deep breath, kicked her feet up onto the edge of Harry's sterile bed, and began to talk.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We've come to the end of Philosopher's Stone, and are moving onto Chamber of Secrets in the next chapter. As we get deeper into the series, the amount of chapters to a book will grow, so don't worry, they won't all be squashed together like this.**

**The response I've been getting to this story has been great so far. I really love reading all your reviews, it makes me so happy to hear how you're liking it. I've seen some of you coming here after reading _I Know Places_ and _Heart of the Storm _(my other more popular stories) and I wanted to thank you all for giving this one a try.**

**I'll see you all again soon!**


	11. Was that a euphemism?

**A/N: Okay, just so we're all caught up – I purposefully didn't cover what little remained of Philosopher's Stone. Where it ended was where I intended for that book to end. In this one we begin Chamber of Secrets – and here's where things start to heat up…**

**I also want to make clear something that I'm not sure I have; this story is as much about Winona's relationship with the twins – specifically Fred – as it is her relationship with Harry. Going into this, I wanted to make a character who could be there for Harry in a way nobody was but absolutely _should_ have been in canon. The exact nature of their connection will become clear in time, but know that I focus on that just as much as the other aspects of this story.**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

The summer holiday after third year was quite possibly the worst Winona had ever had. It wasn't so much that she was hurt, or in any way abused, but it was so painfully lonely that some nights she didn't know how to handle it.

She wasn't sure how she'd gone from introvert-in-the-extreme to reliant-on-relationships in the space of only three years, but nonetheless, it had happened. She craved the company of those she loved more than anything else. She wrote her friends whenever she could, but it just wasn't the same.

They were still in the wizarding world with their large, happy families, and she was still stuck in her shitty foster home that had bars on the windows and was miles away from anyone worth getting to know. Her friends from the year before were long gone, one in a detention centre in Bristol and the other having moved away with family. So, once again, Winona was alone.

It was only a few weeks until the end of the summer when she decided she just couldn't do it any more. She wrote to the twins, ordering them to come and get her before she snapped.

She could have taken the Knight Bus again, however not only was she fresh out of Sickles, but the thought of coming face to face with that ugly, creepy Shunpike bloke again made her entire body shudder with disgust.

Luckily, the twins were there for her as always. They owled her back with the time they'd be coming the next day and told her to wait by the fireplace but to make sure the Muggles would be nowhere in sight. As luck would have it, both her foster parents were busy with work, and the next day she had the house entirely to herself.

She was packed and ready to go with plenty of time to spare, so she grabbed her sketchbook and curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace, eagerly awaiting their arrival. They were five minutes late – just about shooting her nerves to hell in the process – but finally, at six past ten in the morning the fireplace flared to life, spitting out none other than Fred Weasley himself.

Relief filled her veins like a drug, and before he'd even gotten his bearings she was up and out of her seat, throwing herself onto him, hooking her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him as tightly as she could.

"Whoa," said Fred, hugging her back immediately, gripping her tight enough that she could almost believe he missed her as much as she'd missed him. "Alright there, Win?"

He'd grown probably a foot since she'd last seen him, whereas she'd hardly grown at all (well, she'd gotten curvier, but that was hardly useful against the twins' massive height).

"Just missed you, is all," she said, breathing him in before stepping back just in time for the fire to flare again, George appearing amongst the flames. "George!" she cried, throwing herself on him as well. He caught her with a low grunt.

"Blimey, someone's grown a bit, haven't they?" asked George tactlessly, and she prised herself away from him just so she had room to smack him upside the head.

"Don't be a prick," she chided him, but even she couldn't mask the grin sitting on her lips.

"Yeah, George," said Fred slyly. "Don't be a prick."

"Connected us to the Floo Network, I see," she said, moving over to begin to gather her things. Fred swooped in, taking her trunk from her before she could protest.

"Dad sorted it for us," George replied, taking the other end of her trunk and moving it towards the fireplace.

"So this is where you spend your time when you're not slumming it with us, I see," said Fred, staring at the living room of her foster house with a critical eye.

"Trust me, I'd rather be slumming it with you two any day of the week," she replied honestly, doing a final check to be sure she had everything before stepping eagerly towards the fireplace. "Let's get the hell out of dodge before the Muggles get home."

"Your wish-"

"Our command."

George produced a small pouch full of Floo powder, and she didn't hesitate to grab a pinch, throwing it in and eagerly shouting, "The Burrow!"

It was, as it always was, like being sucked through a drain pipe. But Winona knew the destination at the end of the tunnel was worth it, so she held her breath and endured the sickening ride until she was unceremoniously spat out the other end, tripping not-so-gracefully into the Weasley's living room.

"Winona, dear!" cried a familiar voice. And she turned just in time to be smothered in a tight embrace by Mrs Weasley. The plump, older witch gripped her tightly, rubbing her back up and down soothingly. "Oh, how wonderful to see you."

Winona gripped Mrs Weasley back even tighter than she had the twins, and when the Weasley matriarch made to move away she refused to let her go. Mrs Weasley made a sound of surprise, but didn't move, just hugging the younger witch back warmly.

"You alright, Winona?" she asked gently, reaching up to run her hand over Winona's head of blonde hair. "You're feeling a bit thin. Have those Muggles been treating you right?"

They hadn't, but she wasn't about to admit it. Pulling back, Winona smiled up at her, moving to grab her hands, squeezing them in thanks. She'd really just needed a mother's embrace – but she certainly wouldn't admit to that, either.

"Winona?" Mrs Weasley prompted her, beginning to grow concerned.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs Weasley," she said rather than voice anything going through her head. Mrs Weasley didn't look completely convinced, but she smiled nonetheless, patting the short girl on the cheeks before turning to the fireplace expectantly.

"Where are those boys?" she asked with a huff.

Winona suddenly had a bad feeling. "They should be right along," she was all she said, however, covering for her trouble-magnet friends. "My trunk's a bit heavy, they must be struggling with it."

"For all their joking around, they can be quite the gentlemen when they want to be," she said of her sons fondly. Winona agreed with a nod and a weak smile. "I'm just in the middle of making lunch, would you like to come help, dear?"

"I'd love to," she replied. Mrs Weasley smiled, leading her through to the kitchen.

When the twins stumbled into the room more than five minutes later, it was to find their mother and best friend involved in a deep conversation about the various types of pie crusts. Winona already had a streak of flour across her cheek and she was smiling as Mrs Weasley told her an anecdote about a young Ron Weasley and a rolling pin at the age of five.

"There you two are," said their mother shrilly. "What took you so long?"

They acted casual, leaning in the doorway and shrugging, but Winona looked up to grin at them knowingly. "Winnie's trunk was heavy," said Fred, unknowingly using the exact same excuse, and Winona had to grin at how in sync they all were even after weeks apart.

"Go put it up in Ginny's room, then," said Mrs Weasley, pointing a whisk in the general direction of the stairs. "Oh, actually – I haven't made the bed up for you yet, dear," she said apologetically. "You keep kneading that dough while I go make sure it's all ready for you."

The three friends were silent as Mrs Weasley disappeared, whipping out her wand and wordlessly levitating Winona's trunk up the stairs in front of her. Winona waited until she was sure the woman was gone before she turned to the twins expectantly. "Go on, then," she said, preparing herself for something either terrible or hilarious. Or maybe both. "What'd you do?"

"Why would you think we've done anything?" asked George, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

"Uh, maybe because I've _met_ you?" she countered, looking back at her task, working her knuckles into the dough on the tray before her.

"It was nothing too fancy," began Fred as he came to a stop by the fruit bowl sitting on the bench top, plucking a grape from the bunch and tossing it into the air, catching it perfectly in his mouth. "Just left your lovely foster parents a little gift or two, is all."

"_Please_ tell me you didn't break the Decree of the Restriction of Underage Sorcery just for the sake of playing a joke on those two tossers," she said wryly, half expecting them to do just that. She honestly wouldn't have been surprised.

"I thought you loved a bad boy," Fred teased.

"You know I do," she smirked back playfully.

George cleared his throat noisily from where he was still stood in the doorjamb, and they turned to blink at him in surprise. Winona felt guilty that she'd actually forgotten he was even there at all. "Are you gonna spend all your time here cooking and hanging out with our mum instead of us?" George asked, arms crossed as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"First of all, I'm _baking_," she corrected him tartly. "There's a difference. Secondly, Georgie, honestly – there's enough of me to go round."

Jokingly, Fred's eyes swept her newly developed body. "We've noticed," he said with a wag of his stupid eyebrows.

Reaching out she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it none-too-gently at his head. He didn't duck in time and it hit him clear between the eyes.

Letting out a loud curse, he flinched away.

"What did you just say, George Weasley?" his mother demanded shrilly as she stepped back into the room.

"Oi!" cried George indignantly. "If you're gonna yell at one of us, make sure it's the right one!"

"Sorry, George," she said, patting her son on the shoulder apologetically before turning to the other twin with wild eyes. "Fred Weasley!" she bellowed sharply, leaving Fred wilting and both George and Winona snickering at his misfortune.

Mrs Weasley forced both twins to sit at the counter as she put Winona to work shaping the pie crust. The four began to chat easily, falling into conversation with a relieving ease.

"So, what made you decide to come so soon, dear?" she asked Winona curiously as she began to mix together fruit for the pie. "We weren't expecting you for at least another week or so."

Winona lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "Just got tired of the Muggles, I suppose," she said, not a totally barefaced lie, but certainly omitting a lot of the truth.

"It was us, mum," said Fred loudly, spinning on his stool, unable to keep still. "She was having Weasley-withdrawals."

Winona scoffed out a laugh. "Sure," she said placatingly. "That's what it was."

It actually _was_, but she would rather walk through Fiendfyre than admit it. "Are you looking forward to the coming year?" asked Mrs Weasley. "Got all your summer homework done?"

Winona faltered. "Uh, no, I was waiting until I came here, to get it all finished with these guys," she said, another half-truth. She was really just procrastinating until the last possible second, but she also knew it would be easier to get done if they all did it together.

"Oh good, you can help the boys with theirs, too," Mrs Weasley said with a cheery smile. "I hear you're quite the whizz with Charms and Astronomy. Are they your favourite classes?"

"I like them well enough, but I'm best at Arithmancy."

"Is that so? Wouldn't have guessed it. You seem more the creative type, always drawing away in that little book of yours."

Winona shrugged. "Numbers have just always made sense to me," she said, but then didn't elaborate. She didn't know how to explain it any more than she could explain her ability to see the future.

Mrs Weasley moved on with the conversation, seeming to sense she was reluctant to go into it. "Any boys caught your eye at school, Winona?" she asked cheerfully, and the twins choked on the cookies they'd been eating. Horrified by the question, Winona ducked her head and tried to come up with a response. "Do you have anyone in mind? Anyone that you like?"

Inexplicably, Adam Bradley flew through her head, with his warm brown eyes and handsome, chiselled face, and her heart began to beat slightly faster. "Uh, no," she said, the answer made wholly unconvincing by the pink in her cheeks.

"That doesn't sound like a no to me, dear," sang Mrs Weasley, almost _impish_, and she suddenly wondered whether the twins hadn't gotten their mischievous streak from nowhere after all. The twins were gaping at the pair of them, and Winona got the feeling that they were, for once, actually _embarrassed _by something.

"Is it one of us?" asked Fred suddenly, voice loud to compensate for how uncomfortable he felt.

"You can tell us if it is," teased George, at his brother's side to the end.

Winona snorted loudly at how preposterous that sounded, and the twins made a big show of looking crestfallen at the brush-off. "Are we not good enough for you, Win?" asked Fred, clearly goading her.

She didn't rise to the bait, just rolling her eyes and stepping over to the sink to wash the excess dough from her hands as Mrs Weasley began to fill the crust she'd made with the fruity innards. "Yeah, Win, what's wrong with us?" pouted George.

"You really don't wanna open that can of worms, boys," Winona laughed. The twins snorted in response.

"Go on, you lot," said Mrs Weasley with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Go play Quidditch, or even better, get a start on that homework, and leave me to work in peace."

"You heard the woman," piped George, hooking an arm around Winona's neck and beginning to drag her away. "Let's go play some Quidditch."

For as long as Winona could remember, she'd grown up in houses that had never, ever been _homes._ And over the next week she was treated to something she doubted she would ever experience anywhere else; a sense of belonging.

She'd never been around a big family until the Weasley's – apart from her short stint in an orphanage when she was eight – and sometimes she felt like she was observing the habits of a whole different species. The way they all thundered down the stairs for meals, or the way their mother called for one child, only to receive four shouted replies in return. The Burrow was more lived in than any home she'd ever visited. It felt eternally warm, as if no matter how cold it got outside, the inside would always be toasty and comforting, like your favourite sweater on a biting winter's day.

Winona balanced her time between spending it with the twins, Ginny and Mrs Weasley. She helped to prepare most meals, and during the day she could usually be found elbow deep in dough, making cookies or slice or some other treat that ended up as nothing but crumbs within the first five minutes of it being done.

Ginny liked to hang out in the kitchen with her as she baked. They would listen to the wireless, and she would educate Winona about the different bands that played on her favourite station. Her favourite was by far the _Weird Sisters_, and more than once Fred and George had burst into the room, intent on dragging Winona out into their shenanigans, only to find her spinning around the kitchen with a giggling Ginny, bashing her head enthusiastically to the music.

Some nights before dinner she would play chess with Ron, who was just glad someone would play with him at all – most of his family refused, already knowing he would win.

But whenever she wasn't busy with the rest of the massive Weasley family, she was holed away with the twins, helping them scheme and plan pranks for the coming school year. Sometimes they would go out and play Quidditch, claiming they needed to sharpen their skills for the House team, but Winona knew they just liked to play, getting out in the sunshine and fresh air did them good.

As the days went by she began to observe that Ron seemed edgy. He was writing a lot of letters, and frowning whenever mail came that wasn't for him. "What's the matter?" she finally broke and asked one day, plopping down next to him on the couch, the cushion dipping beneath her.

"It's Harry," he revealed without any further prompting.

"What about him?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"He's not answering my letters," he told glumly. "I think something's wrong."

"That's strange. He hasn't answered _any_ letters?"

"Not a single one." Ron perked up suddenly, spinning around to pin her with a bright-eyed, hopeful expression. "Hey, you're a Seer, right?!" he exclaimed rather loudly.

She hushed him, reaching out to slap him gently upside the head. He flinched and held the place she'd hit him. "Say it louder, why don't you? I don't think someone in Surrey heard you," she hissed. He shot her an apologetic wince.

"You're a Seer," he said again, this time in a quieter voice.

"Yes," she replied, getting a tighter hold on her patience, ensuring the reins wouldn't snap. "Why?"

"You can tell me what's wrong," he whispered. "You can look into the future and tell me if he's okay!"

"It doesn't work like that, Ron," she shook her head. "I usually can't just _look_, it isn't something I can-" She was suddenly eating her own words, feeling a persistent pressure in the backs of her eyes. "Shit," she cursed, spinning where she sat, desperately searching for something to write on. She usually never went anywhere without her bag of art supplies – just in case – but she hadn't thought she'd needed to somewhere like the Burrow. "Go get the twins," she hissed at Ron.

"What? Why?" he asked, confused.

"Do it!" she said shrilly, dropping her head in her hands and doing everything she could to stave off the oncoming vision. With a yelp Ron toppled off the couch, racing from the room in search of his brothers.

Winona breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to use the meditation techniques that Trelawney had been teaching her the last three years. She'd never held off a vision for so long before, but she didn't want to let it pull her under until she had something in her hands to draw with. She knew how messy it could be if she didn't.

A few moments later the twins were catapulting into the room and she was relieved when she felt a piece of parchment thrust into her hands, along with a self-inking quill that she supposed they'd nicked from Percy.

Without acknowledging them, Winona simply let the current of time take her under. She drifted, reality's sensation slipping away, replaced with possibilities of the future. She smelt fumes, like those from a car. There was a vibrating, a sort of rumbling beneath her, and she could hear the shouts of a familiar voice that she couldn't quite place.

It was over as quickly as it had began, but as she blinked back to the present the sketch on the paper before her proved she'd been out of it much longer than it had seemed.

Sitting there, detailed on the spare parchment, was a car. There were four heads inside of it, and it appeared to be hovered off the ground, idle beside a second-storey window with bars soldered to the window pane. Through the thick bars she could just make out the tiny, shocked face of one Harry Potter.

"She's back," said Fred's voice in her ear, and she looked up to see him sitting beside her, utterly casual under the circumstances. Ron was standing a few feet away, looking a little more pale than usual. Turning her head she saw that George was leaning casually in the doorway, keeping a lookout.

"_Back_?" Ron asked in confusion. "But she never went anywhere."

"It's what we call it when she has a vision," explained Fred easily. "Because while her body's there, her mind isn't."

"Well, what'd she draw?" asked Ron curiously.

"_She_ has a name," snapped Winona sternly, and Ron had the decency to look ashamed. "See for yourself," she said with a roll of her eyes, taking pity on the kid and holding out her sketch. He stared down at it with wide eyes.

"It's the Ford Anglia!" exclaimed Ron.

"You know the car?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah, it's our dad's," George said, wandering over to take a peek over Ron's shoulder. "Is that Harry, in the window there?"

"Looks like it," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "This means we have to go get him! All of us!"

"I mean, you don't _have_ to do anything," Winona told him seriously. "From what I can tell, my visions are subjective – the future isn't set in stone-"

"When can we leave?" Ron interrupted her, turning impatiently towards his brothers.

Fred grinned, the expression just a little crooked in a way she'd never noticed before. "We can go tonight, once mum's in bed." He turned to Winona expectantly. "I'm not going to bother asking if you're in."

"I could say no, y'know?" she sniffed, playing miffed.

"There're four people in that car," George pointed out smartly. "And I can guarantee one of them isn't Ginny."

She knew they had her, and they knew it too. She didn't need any convincing in the first place, but she still rolled her eyes and plucked the sketch from Ron's hands, eyeing it for a moment before folding it up and shoving it deep into her back pocket.

Night came quickly and although Winona was no stranger to trouble, the idea of going behind Mrs Weasley's back made her uncomfortable. The last thing she wanted was to betray the woman's trust. Winona didn't care what many people thought of her, but Mrs Weasley was one of the few whose opinion she actually gave a damn about.

She might have almost pulled out of the whole thing, if not for the image of Harry's face, wide eyed and locked in, on the piece of parchment. He was trapped, somewhere with _bars_ on the windows, just as she had been not so very long ago. And she knew, whether with Mrs Weasley's blessing or not, she was going to rescue him.

They made sure Mrs Weasley was in bed and snoring away before they all met in the living room and silently snuck out of the house. The summer air was warm and Winona pushed up the sleeves of her old knitted jumper as they made their way towards the garage, where the car lay in wait.

It was large and blue, kind of an older model, but she could tell that Mr Weasley took care of it.

"How come it flies?" she asked the twins in a whisper as they slowly began to push it from the garage, along the driveway where they could get far enough away to start the engine so Mrs Weasley wouldn't hear.

"You've met our dad," snorted Fred. "What d'you think?"

It didn't seem like much of an answer, but as she thought about it, she had to admit it made sense. Their dad was just batty enough to do something like enchant a Ford Anglia to fly. It was rather brilliant, really. She was sure there were laws about this sort of thing, and the fact that Mr Weasley had done it anyway – even despite working where he did – made her grin.

As they pushed the car further away from the house, Ron kept glancing over his shoulder, paranoid that his mother would come racing down the driveway, throwing hexes after the car in an attempt to stop them.

Luckily, it didn't come to that.

They made their way to the end of the road and all climbed in. Fred and George took a moment to argue about who got to drive, finally settling it with a game of _Giants, Wizards, Elves. _George won, and shot his brother a smug look as he kicked back in the driver's seat.

Ron tried to slip into the passenger side, but Fred caught him by the scruff. "Ladies always get the front seat," he chided the younger wizard, and though Ron shook him off he still stepped aside and let Winona take the passenger side. She shot Fred an amused grin over the seat, and he shot her a wink in return.

"I have some questions," she stated as George began to drive normally, slowly making his way down the road away from the Burrow. Ron still glanced out the window every few moments, part of him still sure his mother would appear and curse them all straight into St Mungo's.

"Fire away," Fred called from the backseat, arms folded behind his head as he sat back and enjoyed the ride.

"What happens when the Muggles see a flying car pass over their heads?"

She caught George's grin from the corner of her eye. "See that button?" he asked, pointing to a little red button on the console between them before continuing without waiting for a response. "Built in invisibility booster."

"Really?" she asked, fascinated. She'd never really considered it before, but Mr Weasley must have been an incredibly intelligent wizard to make a Muggle car not only fly, but turn invisible too.

It seemed relatively simple to take off, nothing at all like a plane, though she supposed that was thanks to the magic. She took the liberty of hitting the invisibility booster the moment they were off the ground. She was no stranger to trouble, but the last thing she needed was a trial that resulted in imprisonment for misuse of magic. She wasn't sure if they allowed art supplies in Azkaban.

The drive was filled with chatter, the twins throwing out increasingly ridiculous theories about what Harry did to earn himself barred windows. They made Winona laugh until her stomach hurt, but Ron didn't seem to find it as funny, grumbling about Harry not being half the trouble they were, and about how horrible his family was to him.

Winona felt a pang of empathy, and wondered whether Dumbledore knew how Harry was treated at home. Surely he wouldn't have let it go on if he knew. She resolved to talk to the Headmaster about it when she saw him once the term began.

As they got closer to Surrey, where Harry lived with his horrible Aunt and Uncle, Fred pulled a map out from seemingly nowhere. "You wanna be on navigation duty?" he offered Winona, who nodded, taking the map from him and holding it in front of her.

"Little Whinging, you said?" she asked over the sound of the grumbling engine, tracing her fingertips over the lines on the map, scouring the possible routes to find the best way to the Dursley's house.

"That's it," Ron shouted suddenly, leaning over the seats to point wildly out of the car. "The one with the bars, like from Winnie's picture!"

"Think you can pull up beside the window?" Winona asked George, who shot her a smirk before pulling into place like he'd been operating flying vehicles his entire life.

They all peered through the bars, locking eyes with Harry, who looked more than slightly stunned to see them hovering there, casual as could be in a flying Ford Anglia. "How did you – what the –?" the Boy-Who-Lived stammered, green eyes comically wide as he stared at them in pure shock.

"Wotcher, Harry," Winona greeted him from the passenger's seat, leaning from the window and shooting him what she hoped was a comforting smile. She could understand how the whole situation may have been overwhelming. The twelve year-old gaped, utterly speechless.

"What's been going on?" Ron demanded, the words spilling out of his mouth faster than they could process. "Why haven't you been answering my letters? I've asked you to stay about twelve times, then dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles-"

"It wasn't me – and how did he know?"

The pair squabbled for a moment, exchanging hurried words back and forth before Winona started to get anxious, knowing the longer they hovered there, the more likely they were to be discovered.

"Oi, chatty-Cathy – do you think now's really the best time to be be catching up?" she asked the pair dryly.

"Right," muttered Ron, tips of his ears burning red. "We've come to take you home with us."

"But you can't magic me out either-"

"We don't need to," Ron said proudly. "You forgot who I've got with me." He gestured lazily to the twins who shot Harry identical shit-eating grins that were only slightly unsettling, for they all knew trouble usually followed.

"Tie that around the bars," Fred instructed Ron, passing over the end of a long rope that Winona realised they must have stashed there earlier.

"If the Dursley's wake up, I'm dead," Harry told them quickly, casting a paranoid glance at the door.

"Don't worry. We've got it under control," Fred assured him through that large, impish grin. "And stand back." Harry did as he was told. "Ready?" the redhead asked his brother, and George tossed him a wide smile before revving the engine and moving forwards, yanking the bars off the window in one smooth movement then tilting the car up, ensuring the metal bars wouldn't hit the ground.

The twins cheered softly, Winona clapping George's shoulder proudly. Ron scrambled to hoist the bars into the backseat as George reversed the car back up to the window, ready for the young wizard to hop aboard. "Get in," Ron urged him.

Harry argued, telling them that all his Hogwarts luggage, including his wand and broom, were locked in a cupboard downstairs. "No problem, Harry," Fred quickly interjected, turning and holding a hand out to Winona expectantly.

She sighed exasperatedly, reaching up into her blonde locks to pull a hairpin from her braids, placing it into his waiting palm. "Try not to lose this one."

"No promises," he replied cheekily from behind her, but before she could reply he and George were clamouring from the car. With George's weight on top of her she grunted, shoving him out the window before he suffocated her to death.

"Keep it idle, Win," said George as they dropped into Harry's room. Sighing in exasperation, Winona climbed over to the driver's side, holding the wheel steady and hoping what little knowledge she had of cars would be enough to keep them from crashing.

The twins made quick work of the locks on Harry's door, then disappeared out of sight.

Winona couldn't help but feel a hint of despair appear in her stomach, like a thick bar of iron sitting low in her gut. She kept her concerns to herself, merely letting the floating car idle by the younger Wizard's window, watching closely as Harry raced around his room at top speeds, collecting his things as quickly and as quietly as he could.

She wondered what the Muggles might do to the twins if they caught them, but if there was one thing she knew above all else, it was that the twins could look after themselves.

Ron pulled Harry's things from him, tossing them in the back before finally the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared out the bedroom door, presumably to help Fred and George with his trunk. From all the way outside, Winona could hear somebody coughing from inside the house, and she felt uneasy again, swallowing around the unpleasant sensation and tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

Fred reappeared first and he, along with the others, began feeding the heavy trunk through the open window. Winona didn't want to move from the driver's seat for safety reasons, but she figured they probably had it handled.

"A bit more," panted Fred, who was now pulling from inside the car. "One good push —"

Harry and George threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car. "Okay, let's go," George whispered, relief colouring his voice.

Harry began to climb over the windowsill, but Winona felt another chill, and instantly she knew what had been forgotten. "Harry!" she hissed with urgency. "Hedwig!"

As she spoke, a loud screech pierced the otherwise quiet air, and Harry gasped, going pale in abject horror.

"THAT RUDDY OWL!" the horrible Muggle from inside bellowed, and though Winona's instinct was to step on the accelerator and get the hell out of dodge, she knew she had to wait as long as possible, at least long enough for Harry to collect Hedwig and get his skinny arse into the car.

The bedroom door burst open, flooding the delinquents with harsh light. The twins reacted on instinct, they didn't hesitate to grasp onto Harry's arms, yanking him into the car with them.

"Petunia!" roared the awful uncle, leaping forwards with all the speed his blubbery body could manage. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"

The Weasley boys gave a final tug and Harry's leg slid out of his Uncle Vernon's grasp. Ron was on top of it and the moment his mate was inside the car, the door had slammed shut. Nobody needed to prompt Winona; the second the door was closed she slammed her foot down on the pedal, tearing off into the night sky, her eyes stuck to the moon like it were her destination.

"See you next summer!" Harry yelled out of the back window, sounding completely giddy with the excitement of the whole thing.

Fred and George laughed loudly, throwing their heads back in merriment. Ron patted Harry firmly on the shoulder as he laughed. Winona chuckled, shaking her head at the sheer madness she'd been roped into, levelling out the flying vehicle and once more slamming her hand down onto the invisibility booster.

"Let Hedwig out," Harry told Ron a few moments later, and when Winona glanced back at him over her shoulder, his cheeks were flushed red. "She can fly behind us. She hasn't had a chance to stretch her wings for ages."

George handed Winona's hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost in the night. She thought the bird's glowing white feathers looked beautiful in the moonlight, and made a mental note to try and recreate it on paper as soon as she had a chance.

"Now that we're in the air, one of you lads wanna take the wheel?" she asked the twins. "Because I'll be honest, I don't really know how to drive a flying car."

Fred snorted. "Switch with me," he said as he began to clamour over the front seat. Rolling her eyes, Winona copied his movements, climbing clumsily over the seat until she dropped into place beside a grinning Harry and Ron.

"So — what's the story, Harry?" the latter asked impatiently, unable to wait any longer for answers. "What's been happening?"

"There was this...House Elf?" the Boy-Who-Lived began, and everyone turned to him with raised eyebrows, wondering where exactly this was headed. He hesitated under their stares, but continued on quickly. "His name was Dobby. He just showed up in my room, telling me that terrible things were going to happen at Hogwarts this year, and that I couldn't go back."

"_What_?" Ron had never sounded so bewildered.

"And he's been stealing all my mail! I never got any of your letters! I thought you'd all forgotten about me," he added dejectedly. The other occupants of the car only continued to look befuddled, trying to understand, and with a huff, Harry launched into a far more detailed explanation, telling them all about Dobby, his warning and the whole fiasco involving some creatively used pudding.

"Very fishy," Fred was the first to speak, bemused as he turned to look at Harry over his shoulder, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Definitely dodgy," agreed George. "Don't suppose you've had any visions on the subject, dear Winona?" he asked, peeking his head over the seat and smiling at her hopefully.

"No such luck," she said absently, staring out the window, trying to understand the feeling of dread still sitting unwelcome in her gut. There were a few things she'd drawn, none of which made a lick of sense, but she was now getting the feeling that it was all connected. She'd have to talk to the twins about it. Alone. No need to frighten the children.

"Damn," George cursed, relaxing back in his seat. "So he wouldn't even tell you who's supposed to be plotting all this stuff, Harry?"

"I don't think he could," said the messy-haired youngster, a frown sitting on his youthful face. "I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall."

Fred and George shot each other a meaningful look that Winona caught sight Fred cast her a look, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. Harry was the first to speak. "What, you think he was lying to me?" he asked, confused.

"Well," began Fred, "put it this way — House Elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can't usually use it without their master's permission." Winona suddenly understood, they thought somebody had sent the little Elf. She supposed it made sense. She didn't know too much about House Elves, but what she did know was that they weren't exactly a _free_ species. "I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone's idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?"

Winona laughed when Harry and Ron answered, "yes," as one entity.

"Draco Malfoy," the Boy-Who-Lived explained with something of a bitter scowl on his face when she glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, as though the name itself tasted bad on his tongue. "He hates me."

"Draco Malfoy?" George repeated dubiously. "Not Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Must be, it's not a very common name, is it?" replied Harry. "Why?"

"I've heard Dad talking about him. He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who."

"And when You-Know-Who disappeared," added Fred, craning around to look at Harry, "Lucius Malfoy came back saying he'd never meant any of it. Load of dung — Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle."

"The kid's a bloody ferret," Winona spoke up absently, one hand casually draped out of the open window. The air blowing into her face was ice cold. It made her skin sting and she knew her hair was going to look atrocious when they stopped, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"What makes you say that?" Fred asked curiously from the driver's seat.

"Dunno," she murmured with a hum, eyes on the horizon. "Just, every time I look at him, I see a ferret."

Fred snorted with amusement, but Harry was still talking seriously from beside them, and they both pulled themselves back into the conversation.

"I don't know whether the Malfoy's own a house-elf..." the boy was saying, a pensive look on his face.

"Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they'll be rich," said Fred.

"Yeah, Mum's always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing," added George. "But all we've got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn't catch one in our house..."

"I happen to love your lousy old ghoul," Winona piped up. "Gives the Burrow more character."

"Just what it needs," Fred joked. "More _character._"

George and Winona laughed, but the younger two remained silent, not seeming to see the humour in the comment.

"I'm glad we came to get you, anyway," Ron spoke up next, the relief obvious in his tone. His voice was just beginning to break, something the twins snickered about whenever they had the chance. "I was getting really worried when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first —"

"Who's Errol?" Harry interrupted confusedly.

"Our owl. He's ancient. It wouldn't be the first time he'd collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —"

"Who?"

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect," said Fred from the front, nose crinkled at the thought of his stuck up older brother.

"But Percy wouldn't lend him to me," continued Ron. "Said he needed him."

"Percy's been acting very oddly this summer," said George, frowning. "And he has been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room… I mean, there's only so many times you can polish a prefect badge."

Winona broke, the comment catching her by surprise. She threw her head and laughed, the sounds echoing around the small interior of the car. Fred snickered at the sound of it, loud and unrestrained as it was.

"Was that a euphemism?" she wondered as she laughed.

"What's a euphemism?" asked Ron, face scrunched at the unfamiliar word.

Winona smothered her laughter and sank down further in her seat. "Never mind."

"So, does your dad know you've got the car?" asked Harry as it suddenly occurred to him.

"Er, no," muttered Ron, "he had to work tonight. Hopefully we'll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it."

"What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?" Harry sounded happy as he asked, lightly curious as he relaxed into the backseat, smiling at his best friend. Winona could feel his relief like it were a tangible thing and she smiled, happy he was happy.

She would most _definitely _be talking to Dumbledore about Harry's summer accomodations. If they were even a fraction similar to hers, then there was going to be a problem.

"He works in the most boring department," Ron replied. "The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," he said like it were the most boring title ever.

"Hey, don't knock it," Winona barked, tossing the younger boy a look over her shoulder.

Ron rolled his eyes at her, looking over at Harry who asked, "the what?"

"It's all to do with bewitching things that are Muggle-made, you know, in case they end up back in a Muggle shop or house. Like, last year, some old witch died and her tea set was sold to an antique's shop. This Muggle woman bought it, took it home, and tried to serve her friends tea in it. It was a nightmare — Dad was working overtime for weeks," he told Harry, who was hooked in by the story that Winona had already heard.

"What happened?"

"The teapot went berserk and squirted boiling tea all over the place and one man ended up in the hospital with the sugar tongs clamped to his nose. Dad was going frantic — it's only him and an old warlock called Perkins in the office — and they had to do Memory Charms and all sorts of stuff to cover it up —"

"But your dad — this car..."

Fred laughed. "Yeah, Dad's crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed's full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided our house he'd have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad."

"It's completely brilliant," Winona told Harry, tossing a grin at him from over her shoulder. "Prepare to be asked about different kinds of plugs, and how exactly an air conditioner works."

Harry only looked more bemused. "I don't know how an air conditioner works."

"If it were anyone else I'd just tell you to say 'magic', but that's kind of the opposite of the answer he's looking for, isn't it?" she mused, throwing a wink at the kid for good measure.

"That's the main road," George piped up, leaning over to peer down through the windshield. "We'll be there in ten minutes. Just as well, it's getting light..."

The horizon was turning faintly pinkish, and Winona's mind drifted to the exact mix of colours she'd have to use to replicate it. Fred began to gently bring the car down, making the dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees visible in the ever-growing light.

"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Great little town," Winona said conversationally. "They've got a post office that sells pencils at a discount!"

Nobody else seemed as excited as she was about this scrap of trivia, but she didn't let it bother her, refocusing her attention on the ground, which grew steadily closer with every passing heartbeat. The sun had peeked over the horizon, but now they were sunken into the trees, the rays muted, trickling through the thick branches and leaves.

"Touchdown!" cried Fred exuberantly as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. He pulled up beside the garage, putting the car into park in the exact same spot it had been in before.

Winona breathed a sigh of relief, glad they'd made it back in one piece. Her door cracked open and she realised Fred had opened it for her. She shot him a grateful smile but he was barely paying attention, scanning the windows of the Burrow for any hint of his mother.

"It's not much," Ron was saying self-consciously. Winona cast him a frown, she couldn't understand how he could ever be _embarrassed_; the Burrow was the most homely home in the whole history of homes, and he shouldn't have even for a second been ashamed of it. It almost made her angry.

"It's wonderful," Harry sighed, and Winona knew then that he felt the same way about the Burrow as she did; and he hadn't even seen the inside yet.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," began Fred, leading them across the yard. Winona stayed close, hands tucked into her pockets as she narrowed her eyes against the glare of the now-bright sun. "We'll wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."

Winona turned to him, an eyebrow cocked in bemusement. "That's actually not a bad plan," she murmured, surprised.

"You could sound less shocked," Fred rolled his blue eyes. Winona laughed, only for the sound to cut off with something of a strangled heave.

Mrs Weasley was marching across the yard, a fury on her face that made the young Seer's life flash briefly before her eyes. She gulped, watching the plump witch storm towards them and wondering just how severe their punishment was going to be. She didn't have parents Mrs Weasley could dob her into, but somehow that wasn't so much comforting as it was just sad.

"Ah," murmured Fred despondently, shoulders slumping.

"Well, boys," Winona said from the corner of her mouth. "It's been nice knowing you."

The Weasley matriarch came to a halt directly in front of them, eyes narrowed as she looked from one wincing child to the next. The flowery apron she wore clashed with her furious expression, but the wand poking out from the pocket warned them not to be smart about it.

"Morning, Mum," said George in his most innocent tone, but Winona saw right through it, which meant his mother most definitely did too.

"Have you _any_ idea how worried I've been?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a deadly whisper. Winona gulped, tugging at the hem of her ratty old shirt. Whispers were always the worst, who knew what kind of fury was bubbling just beneath the surface?

"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —"

Fred, George and Ron were all taller than Mrs Weasley, but each of them cowered under her seething rage as though she were a giant.

"Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I've lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —"

Instantly Winona knew this was a bad thing to say, as far as the twins were concerned.

"Perfect Percy," muttered Fred bitterly, just as she'd known he would.

"YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" the aging witch bellowed, infuriated. Well, at least she wasn't whispering any more. That was something, Winona supposed. "You could have _died_, you could have been _seen_, you could have lost your father his _job_ —"

Winona tuned out, eyes on the ground as she patiently waited for the shouting to be over. It must have been at least ten minutes later that Mrs Weasley finally grew hoarse, unable to continue screaming as she no doubt wished she could.

"However I am very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she finally said, rounding on Harry, who backed away smartly. "And _you_," she added, spinning around to narrow her eyes at Winona, who gulped once more. "I expected better from you, Winona."

"Don't be mad at her, mum!" Fred cried quickly. "It was our idea!"

"Yeah, we made her do it!" George agreed without pause.

Mrs Weasley looked skeptical, but after a long moment she just sighed. "Come in and have some breakfast," she told Harry, and the Boy-Who-Lived had never looked more bewildered as she turned and strode calmly back into the house.

Winona let out a sigh of relief, knowing it was over, at least for the time being. She nudged George, then Fred, sending them a wide eyed look of exasperation. The pair only sighed back, heading after their mother, for once completely silent.

The Burrow seemed to greet Winona with a hug, just as it always did. She stepped into its warmth, heading immediately for the kitchen. "What can I do to help, Mrs Weasley?" she asked hopefully, desperately wishing she could somehow make up for the trouble she'd helped cause.

She was similar to the twins in many ways, but unlike the identical boys, she tended to take the time to clean up after the messes she – and often _they_ – left behind.

"Alright," Mrs Weasley huffed, still irritated but thankfully not refusing her. "You can scramble the eggs."

Relieved to have been given a task, Winona hurried to begin cracking the eggs into the pan on the stove, grabbing the correct equipment and setting about her task. Mrs Weasley muttered occasionally under her breath, but she tended to do that when she was processing her children's stupidity, so Winona thought nothing of it, continuing on with her task as calmly as she could.

Breakfast was short work, half of it done by magic, the other parts done by the skilled Mrs Weasley and Winona, who was something of her protégé.

"I don't blame you, dear," she was assuring Harry when Winona wandered over to the table where the boys all sat, shovelling an excess of sausages onto his plate. Winona moved over to the twins, giving them each generous helpings of her eggs. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —"

The witch flicked her wand at the sink and the dishes began to clean themselves. Winona moved over to Harry, quietly asking him how much he wanted. She watched him, taking note of his sheer bemusement as he watched a pair of knitting needles in the corner working on a scarf without anyone holding them.

"It was cloudy, Mum!" argued Fred, a bit of egg flying from his lips. Winona rolled her eyes as she took her seat beside him, tossing a napkin in his face before picking up her cutlery and beginning to cut her sausages into bite-sized pieces.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

"They were _starving_ him, Mum!" cried George, exposing a mouthful of chewed sausage and bread.

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley. Harry looked mystified as she began cutting and buttering his bread for him, and Winona looked down to hide a grin.

She looked up when footsteps entered the room and spotted Ginny standing in her long, ratty nightdress. The moment she noticed Harry her eyes went the size of dinner plates and she gave a small squeak, hightailing it out of there like somebody had lit a fire underneath her. Winona covered her mouth to laugh, exchanging amused looks with the twins.

"Ginny," Ron whispered to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

Ginny had mentioned Harry more than once during their late night talks, neither of them tired enough to sleep. Winona got the feeling she was starved for female companionship, and she didn't mind chatting with the girl to keep her company. It became clear after a while, however, that the little girl was more than slightly besotted with Harry.

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred added with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all their plates were clean, which took an unsurprisingly short amount of time. "Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and —"

"You will _not_," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again —"

"Oh, Mum —" he tried to complain.

"_And_ you two," she said, glaring at Ron and George. "You as well, Winona," she added, and the blonde witch ducked her head meekly. "You can go up to bed, dear," she said to Harry. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car-"

"I'll help Ron!" Harry insisted eagerly, though Winona couldn't fathom why. "I've never seen a de-gnoming —"

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," Mrs. Weasley tittered. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject —"

And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned rather loudly, but Winona had no idea who this 'Lockhart' bloke was, and as such, didn't have an opinion. She could tell, however, from Fred and George's crinkled expressions, that she probably wasn't going to like him.

"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —"

Winona ducked her head in an effort to get a better look at the book, and she was surprised to see a rather handsome man on the cover. He had wavy blonde hair and bright eyes that kept winking up at them. He was ridiculously attractive, and Winona found herself wondering if he was that appealing in person.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to draw him; but she'd get around to it eventually.

"Oh, he is marvellous," Mrs Weasley was saying, an enraptured look on her rounded features as she stared down at the photograph fondly. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..."

"Mum fancies him," commented Fred slyly, and Winona choked on her sip of juice.

"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," his mother snapped, though her cheeks had turned a soft pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."

Winona grumbled but did as she was told.

"Bet I can get mine further than yours," she muttered Fred and George, who cast her narrow-eyed looks.

"We'll take that action with one stipulation," George said slowly.

"Name it."

"Are you saying that as a competitive bird, or a Seer?"

"Competitive bird," she replied with a laugh. They both agreed, knowing the usual bet stood – a hoard of chocolate frogs kept for this very occasion.

She was the first to catch one, spinning around fast enough to make her full stomach ache. The gnome flew over the fence and beyond the stump that sat in the middle of the field. Harry looked bewildered by the strange method, but once one bit into his hand, he had no qualms about tossing them ruthlessly over the fence.

"See, they're not too bright," George was saying, seizing five or six gnomes at once. They practically had it down to an art form. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."

Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.

"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here...Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny."

"He's not wrong," Winona murmured to Fred, who rolled his eyes but said nothing.

The front door slammed, the sound travelling through the open house, and the redheads lit up like Christmas trees. "He's back!" exclaimed George, reminding Winona starkly of a young child. "Dad's home!"

Mr Weasley looked haggard, his thinning hair sitting messily atop his head, robes crumpled and dusty. "What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. Winona reached out, pushing the teapot into his searching hand. He was too exhausted to even notice, grabbing it blindly and pouring himself a cup. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned..."

"Find anything, Dad?" questioned Fred eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," said Mr Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness..."

He was tired, yawning every other word, rubbing at his eyes.

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" asked George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it...of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face." Winona was incredibly interested – she'd always loved stories from Mr Weasley's work. It was never boring, no matter what Ron liked to think. "But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't _believe_ —"

"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?"

Mrs Weasley's voice was shrill enough that Mr Weasley's tired eyes jerked open. "C-cars, Molly, dear?" he stammered, and if it wasn't obvious he was guilty before, it sure as hell was now.

"Yes, Arthur, cars," replied Mrs Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."

Mr Weasley blinked. "Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth...there's a loophole in the law, you'll find. As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't —"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs Weasley, irate. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry?" echoed Mr Weasley blankly. "Harry who?" He finally noticed Harry, seeming to startle at the sight of the famous young wizard sitting in his kitchen. "Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about —"

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" shouted Mrs Weasley, giving them no chance to get acquainted. "What have you got to say about _that_?"

"Did you really?" said Mr Weasley eagerly. "Did it go all right?"

Winona laughed aloud, but just as quickly silenced herself when Mrs Weasley's eyes shot to her like daggers.

"I — I mean," he faltered as sparks seemed to fly from Mrs Weasley's eyes, "that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed..."

Mrs Weasley was clearly gearing up for more shouting, and Winona noticed Harry and Ron slip away, then nudged the twins to do the same. They escaped just as their mum began to yell at their dad, and Winona sighed with relief as they began to climb the stairs.

"We'd invite you up for more mischief, but you look as exhausted as we feel," George said as brightly as he could, being as tired as he was.

"A nap wouldn't be out of order," she told them, reaching up to cover her mouth as she yawned. "I'll see you goblins later."

"Who're you calling goblins, you pixie?" Fred asked slyly. Winona only smiled back before kicking him in the shin and disappearing inside Ginny's room, grinning to herself proudly as she listened to him curse from the other side of the door, his twin laughing merrily at his pain.

The youngest Weasley was sat on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees as she stared at the far wall.

"You okay, Gin?" Winona asked, dropping to her knees and dragging her trunk closer to her, cracking it open and beginning to rifle around inside for something comfortable to change into.

"I can't believe Harry Potter saw me in my nightgown," Ginny groaned like this was the most mortifying thing to ever happen to her in her young life, dropping back and burying her face in her threadbare pillows.

"Harry doesn't care," Winona told her with a small chuckle, standing to her feet and kicking off her worn old jeans and jumper, slipping on an old shirt and crawling into the spare bed that she used every time she visited the Burrow. The mattress had springs sticking out of it, poking into her back whenever she rolled over, but she'd gotten used to it, able to sleep without them bothering her.

"He's _Harry Potter, _Winona," Ginny told her seriously, as though this was supposed to change the way she thought about him.

"So?" she asked, genuinely not understanding. He was just _Harry_, a small, troubled kid with a big mouth and the weight of the world on his thin little shoulders. Who cared that he was arguably one of the most famous wizards of the century? She'd seen him at school, half asleep over his homework, drool dripping from his lips onto his parchment, much to Hermione's disgust. Once you've seen him like that, it was easy to get over the whole 'took-down-the-greatest-dark-wizard-this-land-has-ever-known' thing. "You'll get over the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing," she assured Ginny, who looked horrified at the implication. "Seriously, the novelty wears off."

"I don't think it ever will for me," Ginny whispered, breathless.

"Aren't you too young to have a crush on a boy?" Winona asked, voice muffled by her pillows as she struggled to stay awake.

"No," Ginny snapped defensively, and Winona grinned into her blanket. "And it isn't a crush! I just think he's – he's wonderful..."

"In twenty years, when you're married to him, I'm gonna get that printed on a t-shirt for your anniversary gift," she mumbled sleepily. Ginny let out a grumbled insult, but Winona was already too asleep to hear.


	12. Get with the program

"I wonder what happens when you throw the Doxy venom in with the African sea salt?" Fred pondered aloud, holding two small jars in his hands, arms bobbing like a set of scales.

"Asking the wrong girl, buddy," Winona told him distractedly, digging in her pencil case for the correct colour.

"Of course, what was I thinking?" he murmured with a roll of his eyes, leaning over his mini cauldron and lifting the stirring spoon to check the consistency. "I forgot that your potions ability doesn't go above second year," he added slyly, and she took the opportunity to toss one of his own pillows at him from where she was perched on his bed. "Oi!" he cried when the fluffy, threadbare pillow hit him square in the face.

Winona was grinning to herself when George strolled back in, taking great care to shut the door after him, sealing them all inside the small but cozy bedroom. "Don't mix the Doxy venom and the sea salt!" George exclaimed, racing up to his brother and snatching the bottle of off-yellow venom from his hand. "You'll blow the lot of us into the sky!"

"Huh," Fred murmured, stirring the brew in the cauldron calmly. "That answers that, I suppose."

George snorted, throwing Winona an exasperated look that made her grin. With a giggle she turned back to her work, running the light purple pencil over the carefully sketched scales of a magnificent dragon.

"We're going to be battling dragons in the near future, then?" George asked, taking a seat beside her and stretching with a yawn.

"Sorry to tell you; this is just a regular, everyday, run-of-the-mill sketch," she told him with a roll of her eyes.

"A wizard can dream," he responded blithely. "Oh! By the way," he said suddenly, reaching into his pocket and fishing out a crinkled envelope. "This came for you earlier, mum wanted me to give it to you."

Winona took it, blinking down at the front of the paper, analysing the handwriting.

"Who'd write to _you_?" asked Fred, and although they weren't said with malice, the words were a little sharp.

"I have friends," she sniffed. Fred just tutted before turning back to his bubbling potion.

The handwriting was done in sturdy block letters, written in an off-brown ink. Slipping her finger under the lip of the envelope, Winona pulled, ripping the paper and exposing the letter inside.

From the centre of the room, smoke began to billow from the cauldron. Fred let out a curse and George dove down to get their experiment under control. As soon as Winona saw who the letter was from, she was grateful for the distraction.

_Winona,_

_How are you? I hope you're having a nice holiday. My family's just gotten back from Greece! I'll have to tell you all about it when I see you. You're going to love the photographs. _

_Are you caught up with your summer reading? The new course books for DADA are a joke and a half, right? _

_I can't wait to see you, it feels like it's been forever. Hope you're doing well._

_Fondly,_

_Adam._

Feeling her cheeks flush, Winona was quick to fold up the letter, shoving it into the bottom of her pocket and turning back to her sketching like nothing had happened. Thankfully, the wonder twins were too absorbed by their potion issues to bother being curious about who sent the letter.

"Haven't you heard mum calling?" Ginny poked her head through the ajar door, running her eyes over the twins, huddled over a cauldron in their pyjamas while Winona sat folded on Fred's bed, hands stained with colour. None of this was particularly surprising, the shocking thing would have been to find them doing anything that _wasn't _experimenting and sketching. "Breakfast's ready," she informed them quickly, shooting Winona an exasperated look before ducking back out and letting the door click shut behind her.

"Finally, I'm starved," Winona told the boys, standing to her feet and dusting the pencil shavings off her pyjamas and onto the floor.

"Oi," George exclaimed. "You just gonna leave that there?" he asked indignantly, gesturing to the mess she'd unthinkingly made.

Rolling her eyes, she swooped down, scooping the shavings into her hand and tossing them into the depths of her pencil case, never to be seen again.

"Meet you trolls downstairs," she told them teasingly, turning and heading back to Ginny's room before they could respond. She got dressed quickly, deciding not to wander down the stairs in her ratty old pyjama bottoms and faded _Beatles_ teeshirt.

The jeans she pulled on weren't much better – large holes in the knees from too much wear – and a purple shirt that had been a gift from Angelina on her last birthday. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and draped over her body like it were made of water. Running a brush through her long hair, she turned, making her way barefoot down to the first level of the Burrow.

She was surprised when she almost ran smack bang into Harry, who had been standing on the second landing from the ground.

"Sorry," she said absently, stomach growling for food.

"Actually, Winona, can we talk for a moment?" he asked, looking uncomfortable. She paused, concerned as she watched him, waiting quietly for him to begin. "I know, the other night, you said you hadn't had any…visions, about this year…" he began awkwardly.

"I really haven't, Harry," she told him quickly, not wanting him to get his hopes up. She felt abruptly useless. What was the point in being a bloody Seer if she couldn't even help out a friend in need?

"If you had, you'd tell me, right?" he asked, sounding awfully insecure.

"In a heartbeat," she assured him. He attempted a smile that fell flat, and she felt concern bloom in her chest. "Is that all?" she checked. Harry paused, considering, then he nodded once. "Okay," she said softly, pressing a hand to his back and gently guiding him in the direction of the stairs. If he didn't want to talk about whatever it was that was bothering him, she certainly wasn't going to force him to. "I'm ruddy starving."

The pair of guests wandered into the kitchen where most of the family already sat at the table, munching on bacon and fingering through stacks of letters beside their plates.

"Oh, there you are, dear," Mrs Weasley crooned, waving her into the room. Winona moved over to the seat that had been left open beside the twins, smiling at Fred in thanks when he absentmindedly poured her a glass of juice, not even seeming to realise he'd done it until it was in front of her, then smiling back and returning to his breakfast. "Your letters have come," Mrs Weasley said, handing them each a sealed envelope with a smile, then patting Winona gently on the head and moving back over to the stove.

Putting down her sliver of toast, Winona ripped open her letter and yanking out the folded parchment inside. Absently, she wondered whether McGonagall did them all by hand, or whether she had a self-writing quill to do it for her.

It was the usual, nothing exciting or different, except for the required booklist, which was a whole lot larger than normal.

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_ by Miranda Goshawk

_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Wanderings with Werewolves _by Gilderoy Lockhart

_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred exclaimed rather suddenly, and Winona looked up from where she was frowning at her own list. Now she understood what Adam had been talking about in his letter. "The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch," he added with something of a grimace, and Mrs Weasley looked up at him sharply at his tone. Gulping, Fred ducked his head and pretended the toast on his plate was far more interesting than it really was.

"That lot won't come cheap," commented George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley as though that was the end of it, but Winona couldn't help but notice she looked a little worried. She wished she could offer to help, but she wasn't exactly swimming in galleons herself. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, politely curious.

Winona looked to the youngest Weasley, who had turned a bright, concerning red and accidentally dipped her elbow into the butter dish. Winona coughed to cover a snort, stuffing more eggs into her mouth and turning to look at Percy, who had just sauntered into the room like he owned the place and expected them all to fall at his feet in awe and respect.

"School hasn't even started and he's already wearing that stupid thing," Fred muttered to her from the corner of his mouth. Winona giggled in agreement, then had to cover her mouth before her food fell out. She shoved her elbow into his side, silently telling him not to joke while her mouth was full. Fred only chortled loudly.

"Morning, all," Percy was saying briskly, smoothing his hands down his sweater vest and quite obviously bringing attention to the prefect badge sitting in pride of place on his chest. "Lovely day."

Winona was turning to murmur a crass joke to Fred, but was interrupted by Percy letting out a rather undignified squawk. She spun around, raising an eyebrow as he produced Errol from under him, glaring at the poor thing like _he_ had sat on _him_.

Ron read Hermione's letter aloud, but Winona and the twins paid little attention, George busying himself with making a miniature catapult out of a spoon and some egg, and Fred busy trying to block the attempts at a hit to the face, with Winona muttering criticism on their technique as they moved.

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, breaking through Winona's distraction and beginning to clear the table. Winona got the feeling she'd missed something, but the woman continued on before she could be found out. "What're you all up to today?"

"We're going to go out to the paddock and play some Quidditch!" Ron answered her excitedly.

Winona brightened, the thought of getting to fly for the first time in months was a thrilling one. The only downside was that they couldn't go too high because of the Muggles in the town beside them. She wasn't the biggest fan of playing Quidditch herself, but it worked out because there was an odd number of people.

Ron was kind as they walked up the steep hill leading to the Weasley's secluded paddock, suggesting he'd sit out so she could play, but she ruffled his hair (making him grimace in irritation) and told him she was happy playing referee. He was relieved, but was sweet enough not to make it seem too obvious.

"Think we can have a turn of your Nimbus, Harry?" George was asking enthusiastically, an old, ratty Swiftstick thrown over his shoulder that paled in comparison to Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which glinted impressively in the sunlight.

"'Course," Harry replied eagerly, and not for the first time. What a sweet kid he was, considering everything he put up with – being the Boy-Who-Lived and all, and not to mention his abusive Muggle guardians. If she were in his shoes, she couldn't have guaranteed she'd have ended up as undamaged. "Shame Percy wouldn't come play," Harry continued, glancing up at the sky and wincing as he was met with the burning glare of the sun.

"What _is _he doing up there in his room alone all the time?" Winona pondered aloud, only to second guess her choice of words. "One lewd comment from either of you…" she said to the twins, who grinned innocently, knowing her well enough to imagine how that threat might end.

"We do wish we knew what he was up to," Fred replied, reaching up to wipe at the sweat that had already appeared on his brow. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

Harry didn't seem to understand what that meant, shooting them a puzzled look.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained kindly. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame," he added sardonically, and Winona frowned in sympathy.

She knew how hard it was on the twins, having such a highly esteemed older brother to live up to. She wished there was more she could do than tell a vulgar joke that she knew would make them laugh, or offer to sketch Snape in women's clothes – that always cheered them right up.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," George continued a few beats later, the frown sticking to his face. Winona glanced over at Fred to see the expression pasted identically onto his features. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything..."

"You'll be alright," Winona told him gently, nudging him with the jagged bristles of her secondhand Silver Arrow. "You always are."

"Yeah," he sighed wistfully, and she turned away sadly. "What about you?" he asked abruptly, seeming to remember that conversations went both ways. "You able to afford all the year's requirements?"

Harry and Ron had fallen into their own conversation up ahead, the twins remaining back with her, the three of them lost in their own world.

"My allowance from the Ministry will cover it, I'm sure," she replied, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.

Fred and George nodded – one thing the three had always had in common was their lack of funds, it had been one of the things to pull them closer together in their earlier years at Hogwarts. She hated for things to feel flat, or for any of them to feel sorry for themselves, so she tossed them a grin that was slightly forced and playfully shoved Fred backwards into George.

"Last one to the paddock is a rotten Slytherin!" she yelled, spinning around and legging it up the hill, grinning more sincerely at the twins' outraged cries from behind her.

Everything would be alright, she told herself as she ran, because it _had _to be.

A few days later was the day they were to go to Diagon Alley, and Mrs Weasley awoke Ginny and Winona before everyone else, knowing they'd want first go at the shower.

Ginny went first while Winona woke up, then she hopped in and gave herself a quick rinse before changing into the same pair of jeans that she'd worn every day that week, and pulling on a simple red, flowing top, yanking her hair back into a pony tail and moving from the bathroom just as Percy raised his hand to knock at the door.

Winona wandered downstairs, moving over to Mrs Weasley and offering to butter the bread for the bacon sandwiches she was preparing for everyone's breakfast. She smiled and passed her the knife.

One by one everybody piled into the kitchen, bleary eyed and wet-haired.

"Alright?" Fred and George asked as she slipped into the place they'd left open between them, pulling her own sandwich closer to her and taking a healthy bite. She hummed in affirmation, not wanting to speak around her mouthful.

"Come along," Mrs Weasley was saying barely a full five minutes later, herding them all towards the fireplace like cattle. She swiped a flowerpot off the mantlepiece and peered inside with a frown. "We're running low, Arthur," she told her husband quietly. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"

And she offered him the flowerpot, and he suddenly look terribly confused. "W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered warily.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," exclaimed Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley curiously. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground —"

"Really?" asked Mr. Weasley eagerly, lighting up in his enthusiasm. "Were there escapators?" he asked excitedly. "How _exactly_ —"

"Not now, Arthur," snapped Mrs Weasley sternly, and her husband fell silent. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"

"He'll be all right, Mum," Fred interjected, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Harry, watch us first." He stepped forwards and took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

Harry looked astonished, gaping at the place Fred had once stood.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley warned Harry as George copied his twin's actions, dipping his hand into the pot and taking a pinch of the powder. "And be sure to get out at the right grate..."

"The right what?" asked Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"You go next, Winona, dear," Mrs Weasley ordered, casting the fireplace a nervous glance. "Keep an eye on those two, will you?"

Winona took a pinch of the Floo powder and stepped towards the flames. "Always do, Mrs Weasley," she told her with a grin, tossing it into the fire and stepping inside and shouting, "Diagon Alley," as the green flames consumed her.

She'd come accustomed to the feeling over time, but it was still disconcerting, being sucked away with the force of a hurricane and feeling like all your organs were suddenly compacted into something the size of a grape. It didn't last long, however, it never did. A moment later she was tumbling out of the fireplace at Diagon Alley, blinking her eyes against the soot and brushing ash from one of the only reasonably pretty tops she owned.

"There you are!" George's voice flooded her ears, and she spun around to peer at the twins, who were grinning at her and rocking on their heels, eager to begin exploring. "Let's go!"

"If we ditch your mother like last year, she'll stop letting me come over, you know," Winona warned with a roll of her eyes, moving away from the grate and giving space for the next person to come through.

"Reckon dad'll give us any extra money for ice cream this year?" Fred asked his brother eagerly, but George only shook his head.

"Not with all the books we've got to get," he replied. Fred frowned before perking up when the Floo ignited again, this time a blinking Mr Weasley appeared from the flames, brushing soot off his robes as he wandered towards them.

"Alright, Harry?" the twins' father asked aloud, and the trio frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean, dad?" Fred asked confusedly, glancing over his shoulder like he might see the Boy-Wonder materialise miraculously from behind him.

"Harry isn't here?" Mr Weasley asked, usually lighthearted expression turning into something much heavier. "Harry Potter didn't come out of that grate just there?" he asked slowly, pointing back at the Floo like something about the question might have confused them.

"No," the twins answered as one, and Mr Weasley went pale.

A flash of green flames and Percy appeared, already rubbing the soot from the surface of his prefect badge, staring down at it with concern. Not a moment later green flashed again and Ron appeared, brushing at his eyes with ash-covered fingers. He looked up, peering at everyone, then frowned and leant to the side to get a look behind the group. "Where's Harry?" he asked confusedly, spinning in a full circle to try and spot his missing best friend.

"That's the bad news," Fred began in a tone of someone in a position of great awkwardness. Ron's eyes went wide and he was suddenly glaring at the twins like it was somehow their fault Harry hadn't arrived as planned.

Before a squabble could break out the Floo flared to life again, Ginny appearing out of it, and a moment later, Mrs Weasley following.

"Mum!" Ron explained before Winona knew what was happening, panic winding across his long, narrow features. "Harry never arrived!"

Mrs Weasley went pale, much like her husband had moment ago. Everything was quiet amongst the group for a long few heartbeats, then the Weasleys exploded into activity.

"Harry knows we're meeting at Gringotts!" Mrs Weasley was shouting to anyone who would listen. "Go there, and keep an eye out – and for goodness sake, _stay together_!"

The crowd in Diagon alley was thick and loud, and in an effort to keep close to her group, Winona reached out and blindly caught one of the twins' hands, grasping it in a firm grip and allowing them to pull her forwards through the throng. She knew once their skin connected, like a persistent ringing in her brain, that it was Fred. She _always_ knew when it was Fred.

"There!" George was the first to spot Harry, he and Fred being the tallest of the gathered group. "At Gringotts!"

Mr Weasley sagged with relief and when Ron shifted out of Winona's way, she was greeted with the sight of Harry on the bank's steps, along with a grinning Hermione and an anxious and towering Hagrid.

"Harry," Mr Weasley panted as they dodged a family of three, coming to a stop beside Hagrid and the younger boy. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far..." He mopped his glistening bald patch with an old patchwork handkerchief and turned to look over his shoulder. "Molly's frantic — she's coming now —"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked Harry eagerly, clapping a hand to his friend's shoulder in relief.

"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid revealed. The twins lit up.

"_Excellent_!" they said together, craning their necks in the opposite direction, trying to get a look into the forbidden, shady areas of their beloved shopping street.

"We've never been allowed in," Ron was saying enviously, but Winona couldn't relate. She'd never been there herself, and she definitely never wanted to. Sometimes when she was walking past the entrance to the creepy streets, she'd see old hags with scars littering their skin, huddled on the ground, muttering to themselves as they rocked like scared little children awakening from a nightmare.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid. Winona was puzzled by his stern reaction.

Before anyone could comment there was a strangled squawk of relief as Mrs Weasley burst into view, Ginny just barely managing to keep ahold of her hand.

"Oh, Harry — oh, my dear — you could have been anywhere —" she was saying, already furiously brushing off the soot still clinging to his clothes while Mr Weasley promptly fixed his glasses for him, handing them back with a much calmer smile.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid quickly, looking keen to escape, which Winona couldn't understand. "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away briskly, easily three feet taller than anybody else in the Alley.

Winona stepped forwards, ruffling young Harry's hair. "Good to see you in one piece, Boy-Wonder," she told him, and he shot her a crinkled frown that only made her grin. Moving forwards, she met up with Fred and George, who were busy climbing the stairs to the main doors of Gringotts.

"How much Muggle money do you have?" George asked curiously, and Winona dug in her back pocket for a moment before pulling out a handful of crumpled notes and a smattering of bronze coloured coins. Mostly she just lived off of whatever the Ministry deigned to give her, but she usually managed to collect a bit of Muggle money during her summers by doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood. She figured she might as well exchange it while she had the chance.

"_That's _Muggle money?" Fred asked, blinking down at it like it had just fallen from the sky. Winona nodded, smothering a grin. "What's the paper for?" he asked, bewildered as he reach out, prodding at the folds of thin paper as though it might bite his finger.

"It's the money," she told him easily, grinning fondly at the twin's perplexed expressions, stepping inside the bank and glancing up at the high ceiling. She had the strange feeling like she was utterly weightless, and something flashed across her vision. Her ears rang painfully, but underneath the sharp trill she could hear the smashing of glass and the roar of a ferocious beast.

"_Winnie_!"

She was jerked from her vision by the cry of her name, and she blinked, the episode ending just as quickly as it had begun. The world came back into focus and she cocked her head at the twins, who were standing close to her, blocking her from the view of any prying eyes.

"Oh no," she muttered, mortified. She dropped her aching head into her hands, peeking out sheepishly. "Was it bad?" she asked, leaning around George to glance around the large room. A few of the goblins at the desk to the right were shooting her suspicious looks, but otherwise nobody else in the building seemed to think anything was amiss.

"It only lasted a few seconds," Fred told her soothingly, reaching up to place a hand on her shoulder, the comforting weight almost seeming to tether her to the present. And for that she was beyond grateful.

"You tried to scratch it into your skin, though," George admitted hesitantly, and suddenly she was aware of the awful stinging on her left forearm. Glancing down, she saw muted red scratch marks appearing on her exposed skin. Wincing, she rubbed a hand over the marks, relieved she'd been keeping her nails short (she kept getting charcoal under them, and thought it made her look grubby).

"No one noticed?" she asked, glancing around again, feeling paranoid. The last thing she needed was somebody seeing her in the middle of an episode; Dumbledore had warned her more than once of the dangers of anyone discovering her abilities as a Seer.

"You're in the clear," Fred assured her. "But here," he said, stripping off his Weasley sweater – it was gold with his red initial knitted into the front. He passed it to her, glancing back at his parents who were stood talking with who she assumed were Hermione's parents, by the way Mr Weasley was gesturing enthusiastically. "We don't want mum seeing the scratches and saying anything," he added. Winona agreed, pulling the sweater over her head, noting that it was still warm from his body temperature. It was big on her, sleeves falling far over her hands, but she rolled them up to her wrists and it was perfect.

She was still embarrassed, but she made an effort to smile at Fred gratefully. The taller boy grinned back and turned as their mother shouted their names.

"I'll exchange my money and meet you back here?" she offered. They paused, reluctant to leave her. She rolled her eyes. "_Go_," she insisted, pressing against both their chests, forcing them after their retreating family. "See you soon."

Once they were gone, Winona spun around, feeling her heart continue to race from the force of her brief vision. She could still hear the roar of some kind of creature ringing sharply in her ears. Hermione and her parents were still standing close by, and Winona would rather not be surrounded by strangers – human and goblin alike – if she could help it.

"Hello," she greeted the Granger family, and Hermione turned around to shoot her a smile while her parents looked bewildered by the sudden approach.

"Mum, dad, this is Winona, Fred and George's friend. She's two years ahead of me, in Gryffindor too," Hermione introduced her parents politely. "Winona, these are my parents."

"Pleased to meet you," she said honestly, reaching out her hand to shake. They complied, shooting her kind but tentative smiles. "I grew up as a Muggle," she told them with a lighthearted grin, hoping she wasn't too pale – Fred always said she got pale right after an episode. "First time I came to Diagon Alley, I thought it was like stepping into the pages of a fantasy novel."

"It certainly is strange," Mrs Granger agreed, casting a look over to the closest goblin who seemed to have a permanent sneer on his face, a sharp-ended quill held in a stubby, gnarled hand.

"But wonderful," Mr Granger assured her. "Magical, even," he added in a mirthful tone, and Hermione nudged her dad for his lame joke. Winona cracked an even larger grin, deciding she liked these Muggles very much indeed.

"Are you exchanging your Muggle money?" she asked them, and they nodded. "Me too," she said happily, turning and pointing them in the right direction. "It's this way."

The trio followed her deeper into the bank, and when Winona got to the desk that handled currency exchange, she nodded for them to go first. An awkward look appeared on the man's face, and he politely waved for her to go ahead – she understood immediately, they _wanted _her to do it first, probably so they could watch and see what would happen.

"Hello, I'd like to exchange my Muggle money," Winona said to the goblin at the desk, pushing herself up to her toes to get a good look. The height of the desks really was rather discriminatory, when she thought about it.

The goblin didn't speak, holding out a small bowl in a clawed hand. Obediently, Winona dropped her notes and coins into it, and he pulled it back, peering inside for a moment before setting it on some scales and weighing it. Then he nodded to himself, wrote something down, and ducked behind his desk, reappearing a moment later with a small sack full of Galleons and Sickles.

"Sign here," it ordered gruffly, flashing her a small piece of parchment that she didn't care to read, simply taking the offered quill and scribbling down her signature compliantly. "Thank you," it said, almost robotically, protocol rather than basic manners.

Clearly that was the end of it, and Winona spun away, turning back to the Grangers who pretended like they weren't watching everything closely. "See? Easy," she said lightly.

"We had a witch with us last time to help," Mrs Granger revealed. "This is our first time by ourselves."

"Well, you've got me," Winona offered with her most charming grin, and the couple smiled back before approaching the stoic goblin, repeating the process they'd just witnessed. "Excited to go back to school?" Winona asked Hermione while her parents took care of business. The second year student sent her a look of sheer disbelief, like she was aghast the question even had to be asked. "Of course," she murmured ruefully, casting the younger girl a smirk.

"What about you?" Hermione asked, rocking on her heels and blinking up at Winona curiously. "Have you done your summer reading?"

Winona paused. "I didn't even know there _was _summer reading," she admitted with a frown.

Hermione looked severely disappointed in her for this answer. "How are you even getting by, honestly?" she tutted. Winona began to remember why she found the girl so frustrating at times. "What are you going to do when OWLs come around?"

Winona blinked, stumped again. "I'm only a fourth year," she reminded her, and Hermione again acted as though Winona was personally letting her down. Thankfully, she was saved from commenting by Mr and Mrs Granger's reappearance, a sack of their own Wizarding money held in careful hands, as though worried it were charmed with something. The thought made Winona chuckle under her breath.

Winona was dreading having to make idle conversation – she never had been great with smalltalk – when the Weasleys and Harry reappeared, making a beeline for the large, ornate doors leading back out into the Alley.

Winona bid a quick goodbye to the Grangers, kindly telling them to find her if they needed anything, before darting off after the twins, who were more than eager to make their escape.

"Where to, fellas?" Winona asked them as they each began to trot down the stairs of the bank.

"Just saw Lee heading towards Apothecary," George revealed, hurrying along.

"Cool," said Winona, jumping down the last few steps and scanning the crowd, searching for that familiar head of dreadlocks she knew so well.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks!" called Mrs. Weasley to the dispersing group. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs, but the boys only sniggered as they darted away, carting an exasperated Winona with them.

"Oi! Lee!" Fred shouted as they ducked around robed warlocks and crying toddlers, catching up to their friend just outside the Apothecary doors.

"Fred! George!" Lee exclaimed, bringing the pair into one of their man-hugs that Winona would never fully understand. "And look who it is, all-seeing-Winona," he added cheekily, swooping down to place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Ugh," she pretended to gag, wiping furiously at her cheek, making him feign hurt.

"How are you, mate?" George asked, clapping his friend on the back, clearly glad to see him.

"I was doing good, till I stumbled upon your ugly mugs," he joked, and the boys all exchanged playful shoves before they each had to scuttle out of the way of a mother and her four young children. "Come on," the shorter boy said, nudging them inside the Apothecary. "I've gotta replenish my Potions kit."

"Won't do any good," Fred said snidely. "Snape's gonna fail you either way."

"You're not wrong," Lee laughed. "But I need Murtlap Essence at the least if we're going to be pulling any big-order pranks this year."

"Alright," George said with a roll of his eyes. "But you won't see us buying potion ingredients."

"Yeah, we're saving our coin for the real deal," Fred agreed.

"You mean Gambol and Japes," Winona laughed. Neither twin disputed it. "You guys go get the Murtlap Essence," she instructed them, gesturing over her shoulder at the store opposite the looming Apothecary. "I wanna grab something from Scribbulus'."

"Surprise, surprise," George and Fred drawled as one.

Winona merely poked out her tongue at them, refraining from making a rude hand gesture – there were children around. "Come find me when you're done and we'll go to the Joke Shop."

"Gotcha!" Fred called, already distracted by something or other and disappearing into the shop. George followed with a wave, and Lee sent her a salute before heading inside too.

Eager to get her own errands taken care of, Winona dodged traffic in the centre of the alley, hopping across to Scribbulus Writing Instruments and pushing her way inside. The little bell above the door jingled at her entry, and the aging wizard behind the counter looked up at her.

"Why hello," he greeted her, the store otherwise empty of shoppers. She wondered whether he got much business. "What can I do for you?" he asked, abandoning the copy of the _Daily Prophet _that he'd been scanning.

"Just wanted to browse your art supplies," she said politely, casting him a smile before heading to the left corner of the shop where a wall of pencils, sketchbooks and paint awaited her. She inhaled, taking in the soft scent of vanilla that pervaded the shop. She'd asked once, back before her second year, why that was. The old wizard had told her that he mixed vanilla with all his paint products, and she'd been ordering from him ever since.

Scanning the available supplies, she mentally went through all she had already, and the things she could do with stocking up on before school started. She got a new case of pencils – her old ones were nearing stumps – and a box of the cheaper watercolours – they weren't the best quality, but they were what she could afford, and they got the job done.

Still, the boys hadn't returned, so she stayed in the shop, her items tucked under her arm as she lazily browsed the different supplies, daydreaming about what she would buy first if she were a millionaire.

The bell above the door jingled and she turned, opening her mouth to greet the boys, only to fall short when she realised it wasn't Lee or the twins at all, but rather the familiar face of Adam Bradley, dressed in sleek blue robes, a smile on his face as he noticed her too.

Her face warmed at the sight of him, taking in his warm brown eyes, fluffed-up dark hair, and the excited curve to his full lips. "Winona!" he greeted her happily, starting forwards through the shop, stepping around a display of quills to stop in front of her, grinning crookedly. "How are you?"

"Adam," she said, brain only barely just catching up. "Hi. Yes. Good. You?"

She sounded like a bloody idiot, but Adam didn't seem to notice, grinning at her with those stupidly perfect teeth, glistening whiter than even her foster parent's old wedding china. "I'm well," he said, still smiling brightly. He was always smiling around her. Was she just pleasant to be around, or was something about her uncontrollably hilarious? "Shopping for art supplies?" he asked, glancing down to the cases of art provisions held under her arm.

She fished them out, absentmindedly hoping that she looked okay before realising with an internal groan that she had Fred's large, ratty Weasley sweater draped over her body to hide her injury from sight. She tried not to wince at this realisation and calmly held her choices out for him to see.

"Needed some new pencils," she told him as casually as she could. "And I thought, since the watercolours were on sale..." He kept grinning, and she felt her cheeks flush under the weight of his warm stare. "What about you?" she asked, desperate to get the attention off of herself.

"Thought I might find you in here," he replied, doing nothing to help the redness of her face. "Seems I was right," he added, giving her his most charming smile, one that made her heart flutter.

"Here I am," she sang awkwardly, wondering why it was she could be so perfectly confident around some people, and yet a quivering mess around others. What was happening to her? "What's up?" she asked, striving to remain casual.

"I wanted to ask you to go to Hogsmeade with me on the first trip in August," he said rather boldly, and her brain short circuited. Winona could do nothing but stare at him, wondering what the actual _hell _was going on. Did George and Fred put him up to this? Was Lee in on it? Were they hiding behind the display of erasable ink, prepared to leap out and yell 'Gotcha' in the most cruel prank of the century?

No, she told herself, Fred and George wouldn't do that. They never played pranks on her (usually) and certainly not ones so brutal.

"Uh, usually, this is when you would say something," Adam's confident display wavered as he laughed nervously, not knowing what to make of her shocked silence.

"Are you playing a joke on me?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Adam looked wary at the question. "No?" he replied, unsure, but probably only because it was such an unexpected response.

"You're really, properly, asking me out right now?" she confirmed.

"Yes?"

"Then...yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"_Yes_, yes?"

"_Yeah_, yes."

"Are either of you going to buy anything?" the old wizard behind the counter looked like he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Winona didn't want to give him the opportunity to settle on either.

"These, thank you," she said, plopping the cases of supplies down on the counter and turning back to Adam as the wizard rang them up. "I'm meeting my friends," she told him regretfully, suddenly wishing that she wasn't, so she could spend more time with Adam.

"It's fine," he told her with a smile. "My parents will be wondering where I am, anyway."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Is someone going to give me the money?" the old wizard interrupted again, this time sounding dangerously close to choosing annoyance over amusement.

Winona quickly dug in her pocket for her coins, but there was the clinking of metal and she looked up in shock to see Adam handing the old wizard the handful of Sickles to cover the cost. Winona blatantly gaped at him, completely unsure how to react.

Adam didn't do anything but smile, reach up to brush a strand of her long, silvery hair from her face. "See you at school," he told her cheerfully, shooting her a final perfect, crooked, charming grin and turning to the door, the little bell jingling as he left.

"Here you go," the old wizard behind the counter said, handing her a small paper bag with her supplies. She felt strangely numb as she took it, turning without feeling towards the door, stepping out into the muggy, summer air.

"Good timing!" George exclaimed, stepping out into the street from the Apothecary with the others at the same time as her.

"You alright?" Fred asked, catching sight of her flushed cheeks and dazed stare. "You're looking a little peaky."

"Am I?" she responded blankly, subconsciously reaching up to brush her fingers over her cheek where Adam's hand had grazed. Lee, George and Fred all looked at her strangely, and she snapped out of it, chastising herself for being so cliché. "Who wants ice cream? My treat," she announced with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. The boys must have wanted the treat enough to dismiss her strange expression as nothing, cheerfully following her through the Alley until they came to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

Lee got his usual, triple chocolate with strawberry chunks. George got his favourite, mint choc-chip. Fred was the wild card, choosing vanilla with nuts and caramel drizzle. Finally, Winona got cookie dough with caramel chunks, and the four of them walked out of the Parlour as very happy kids.

"You're the best, Winnie," Lee told her appreciatively, dribble of melted ice cream running down his wrist from his cone. "Have we told you that recently?"

"Not recently enough."

"You're the best, Winnie!" they all crooned as one, breaking off into laughter before each biting back into their treats. They ate quickly, as the ice cream was melting in the heat anyway, and quickly moved on to Gambol and Japes, where the twins were eager to replenish their stock of _Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks_.

"What's the plan for this batch?" Winona asked as they stepped inside, the scent of gunpowder flooding her nose; it was one she found pleasant, associating it closely with the twins, who always seemed to smell like a joke shop, even after they'd just had showers.

"Haven't decided yet," they said, scanning the labels of products she knew they couldn't afford to purchase. Not today, anyway.

"So many possibilities," began George.

"So little time," finished Fred, both distracted by the large, colourful display of fireworks sitting towards the back of the shop.

She was just turning around to check out the new Exploding Snap editions they had out on the far wall when somebody bumped into her, very nearly knocking her off her feet.

"Sorry!" a familiar voice apologised, and Winona blinked down at Hermione, who stood with Ron and Harry, both more interested in their surroundings than in her.

"Well, if it isn't the Golden Trio," Winona grinned.

"The Golden Trio?" Ron repeated with a scrunched up nose, perplexed by the unfamiliar name.

"What makes you call us that?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed in something like suspicion. Winona wasn't sure she deserved to be stared at with such skepticism, but she knew Hermione just well enough to know not to be offended by it.

"Not sure," she replied honestly. "Just came to me."

"Winnie!" Fred yelled from over the heads of a group of pre-teens. Her head shot up at the sound of her name.

"What're they up to _now_?" Ron asked with a groan, probably imagining all the terrible plans the twins were cooking up in the joke shop.

"Fireworks," Winona told him with an impish grin, enjoying the way he grew nervous.

"_Winona_!" Fred called again, but a moment later he was right beside her anyhow, holding an armful of fireworks with a loose grin sitting on his face. "Oh, hello kiddly-winks," he greeted the three younger students.

"What are you gonna do with those?" Ron asked warily, eyeing the hoard he held close to his body like he half expected them to suddenly go off right in his face.

"It's better if you don't know anything," George spoke up, materialising by his twin's side. "Plausible deniability."

"What?" Ron had never looked more bewildered.

"Can't stay and chat, I'm afraid!" Fred called, gently kicking Winona in the shin to get her to start moving. She rolled her eyes, shooting the trio a wave before disappearing back into the crowd with the twins. They quickly paid for their mountain of fireworks – which were thankfully on sale and thus, affordable – and led Lee and Winona out of the busy store, onto the even busier street.

"We only have a couple of minutes until we need to be heading to Flourish and Blotts," George told Lee, leaning back to look at the clock on the wall of the closest shop. "Anywhere left you wanna go?"

"I could do with more Cauldron Cakes," Lee said eagerly.

"And I'm almost completely out of Sugar Quills," Winona agreed wholeheartedly, and as one they set off towards Sugarplum's Sweets Shop. It was a violently pink store, the colour never ceasing to give Winona a headache; but inside held the most delicious sweets known to wizard-kind, so she put up with it for as long as it took to gather what Sugar Quills she could afford and made her way to the front counter, paying for them before waiting by the door for the others.

"See you on the train?" Lee confirmed as they parted ways at the mouth of the Alley.

"You know it," Fred agreed, and they once more did their traditional man-hug, George joining in, before Lee swooped down for another chaste, playful kiss on Winona's cheek, then darted away, weighed down with his bags of sweets.

"Flourish and Blotts?" Winona confirmed, and the pair nodded, dragging their own purchases after them as they headed in the other direction, making their way towards the bookstore.

Granted, Flourish and Blotts was one of the more popular shops on Diagon Alley, Winona thought to herself, but this was just ridiculous.

A trail of middle-aged witches led out the door and around the back of the shop, all of them seeming to vibrate with excited energy.

George eyed the line in confusion. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy left-?"

Mrs Weasley cut her son off with a stern bark of his name, and they all turned to see her standing somewhere towards the middle of the line, Percy, Ginny and Mr Weasley already with her, along with Hermione's parents.

"What's going on?" Winona asked curiously, pushing herself up to her toes in an effort to see past the masses of witches crowding the smaller shop. People were getting dangerously close to towers of leaning, unsupported books which looked ready to fall at any moment, but never did, so Winona assumed they were being held up with magic.

"Gilderoy Lockhart is here signing copies of his autobiography!" Mrs Weasley sounded like she was about to break out into a series of ecstatic squeals. Ginny looked up at her mother with a grimace, like she was hoping nobody could tell they were related.

"Oh," Winona murmured lamely, "...cool."

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley abruptly. Winona and the twins turned, seeing Ron, Harry and Hermione wander over to them, casting wary glances at the giggling women in the exceedingly long line. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..." Mrs Weasley added, touching her hair nervously.

The large woman in front of them shifted to the side and Gilderoy Lockhart came into view. He was handsome, Winona had to admit, but looking at the blue of his robes only made her think of Adam's robes, and she wondered where he was, and if she'd get a chance to see him again before school began.

Winona was so lost in her wistful musings that it wasn't until she noticed every eye in the room was focused in her direction that she snapped out of it. Blinking, she swivelled around, mystified by the sudden attention she appeared to be receiving. Had she said something embarrassing aloud? Or worse, had she gone into an episode and not realised?

Thankfully, all her fears were put to rest as she realised everyone was actually staring at Harry, who stood just to her left. Lockhart leapt across the space between them, grasping Harry none too gently by the arm and yanking him to the front.

The crowd burst into inexplicable applause.

"I don't get it," Winona whispered to the twins. "He didn't even do anything."

"He defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby," Fred replied.

"Yeah, Win, get with the program," George added.

She snorted, shoving them both and turning her attention back to the situation. Harry looked like he was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole; his face was so red she wondered if he was going to pass out.

"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart was saying brightly. "Together, you and I are worth the front page." There was a pause as Harry attempted to shuffle back closer to the Weasleys, but the author seized him again, holding him in place against his will. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced loudly, waving for quiet. Slowly, the room descended into silence, the gathered witches hanging on his every word. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —" The crowd applauded again like, for this act alone, the man was worthy of sainthood. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made the kid's glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd around her went wild, but Winona wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan, so she ended up doing a little of both. "One of the only classes I actually like and _this_ tosser is the one taking it over?" she asked them when they turned to look at her, matching grimaces on their faces.

"On the bright side, it should be an easy pass," George said optimistically.

"And _anyone's_ better than a guy with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the back of his skull, right?" Fred added. Winona had to laugh, giving him another shove as she turned to look for her required Spell Book for the year.

She was just wondering whether it was possible they'd run out of copies when she felt a tingle zing down the length of her spine. She went ramrod straight, eyes turning glassy, though, curiously enough, she didn't slip into a blind episode as she normally did. Instead she felt just an instinct, a _sense_ of what was about to happen.

It both relieved and terrified her. Her abilities were to evolving, and she loathed the unknown.

"Fred," she said, somehow _knowing _what needed to be done. "Something's wrong."

"What?" Fred turned to look at her, bewildered by the vague comment before catching sight of the look on her face. "_What_?" he repeated, lowering his voice and stepping closer.

"It's Ginny," she said, turning around and scanning the shop, looking for the youngest of the Weasley clan. She spotted Hermione's head of bushy brown hair first and knew that was the right direction. She immediately followed it, dragging Fred behind her, who in turn dragged George, which got the attention of Mr Weasley.

By the time they reached them, Harry and Hermione were holding back a struggling Ron, and Ginny looked about as red as a tomato. "Ron!" Mr Weasley cried, pushing ahead and placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley."

The voice that spoke was cold and disdainful, and the very sound of it made Winona nauseas. She looked up, reaching a hand into her pocket and wrapping her fingers around her wand. She usually didn't take it anywhere with her outside of school – knowing it was virtually pointless – but she'd decided at the last minute that morning to bring it along with her.

She couldn't use magic without getting into trouble, but the familiar wood was warm against her palm and it calmed her just to know it was there.

The newcomer was Draco Malfoy's father. He stood tall, a pretentious cane held in his hand, white-blonde hair slicked back, a sneer fixed onto his pointed features.

"Lucius," said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr Malfoy drawled. "All those raids…I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into the small cauldron that Ginny was holding, and again, Winona's skin prickled, like tiny needles all over her body. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, she knew as she watched him extract the old, battered copy of one of her secondhand schoolbooks.

"Obviously not," Mr Malfoy all but purred, and the sound made Winona want to hurl. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr Weasley flushed a dangerous shade of red, borderline purple, and she unthinkingly reached out, pressing a hand to the taller man's arm. Lucius Malfoy's cold, lifeless eyes darted to her and she sneered back, just daring him to try something.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr Weasley said, impressively calm considering the circumstances.

"Clearly," drawled Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were watching apprehensively. The sneer on his face became more pronounced, and _sensing _that this interaction was about to go very wrong, Winona yanked at Mr Weasley's arm, but she wasn't very big, or strong, and it seemed to make no difference. "The company you keep, Weasley…and I thought your family could sink no lower —"

Mr Weasley threw himself at Malfoy, knocking the pristinely dressed man into a bookshelf that toppled over, thuds echoing around the room as heavy tomes slammed against the floor.

"Get him, Dad!" Fred yelled eagerly. George hooted loudly in agreement.

"Shit," Winona cursed, suddenly exhausted from it all and in need of a long, hot bath. There was nothing she could do. The twins were cheering, Harry and his friends watched on in shock and Mrs Weasley was crying for her husband to stop – all she was capable of was sighing and stepping back, letting the wizards sort it out as they would. She wasn't exactly in a place to judge – she'd gotten in her fair share of fights. She understood the need to bash her fist into someone's face – particularly if that person was a Malfoy.

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up —" a booming voice carried over all the other noise, and then Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. He reached down with all the ease of a giant and yanked Mr Weasley and Malfoy apart. Mr Weasley's lip was bleeding, but he'd given Malfoy a brilliant black eye, so Winona would call it a pretty even outcome.

The Pure-blood supremacist stood to his feet, still clutching Ginny's old Transfiguration book in a tight grip. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with unrestrained malice. "Here, girl — take your book — it's the best your father can give you —" he spat, then, pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

Hagrid was muttering to Mr Weasley, who was wiping at his lip with a pained grimace. The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs Weasley beside herself with fury.

"Well, that was…interesting, to say the least," Winona murmured to the twins as they made their way back, subdued, to the Leaky Cauldron.

"You said something was wrong with Ginny," Fred murmured quietly, so that none of the others would overhear. "But she was fine – it had nothing to do with her."

Winona didn't understand it herself. "I guess I was just wrong," she shrugged, because what else could it possibly be? Ginny was fine, there was no danger, and she was sure this year was going to be _much_ more quiet than the last.

...Probably not, but a girl could dream.


	13. Does it involve something illegal?

Only a few short days of summer vacation remained, and Winona spent them drawing and swimming in the lake near the Burrow. She taught the twins to play Marco/Polo, which they absolutely loved, to nobody's surprise.

One day, when the twins were de-gnoming the garden as punishment for getting caught saying a string of naughty words, she forced herself to flick through one of Lockhart's books.

"I'd rather study Potions every day for the rest of my life than read another line in one of these bloody books," she told the twins emphatically that night, and they practically choked on their laughter.

Finally, it was the night before the first of September, and Mrs Weasley made the most brilliant dinner. By happenstance, Winona ended up being placed next to Harry, and at one point during the night while everybody else was engaged in conversation, she found Harry staring at the family with a wistful smile and slightly misty eyes.

"It's pretty great here, huh?" Winona asked delicately, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork and smiling at him kindly.

"I didn't know it was possible a family like this could even exist," Harry sounded awestruck as he watched Mr Weasley and Ron laugh at some joke the twins had cracked while Mrs Weasley tutted affectionately, cutting up Ginny's food despite her complaints that it wasn't necessary. "Do you think I'll have this, one day?" he asked with a yearning that sounded far too old for someone so very young.

Winona chewed on her food, considering. "Why ask me?" she finally asked, resting her chin on her fist and watching him thoughtfully.

"You're the Seer, aren't you?" Harry said it so matter-of-factly. As if occasionally getting confusing glimpses into the murky waters of the future was enough to give her any authority on the matter.

"Well, as a Seer, do you want me to tell you the truth?" she asked, and Harry nodded eagerly. She leaned in as though about to tell him a great, tremendous secret. He copied her, hope lining his round, youthful features. "You already do," she whispered softly, winking at him when he stared back wordlessly. With a final grin she turned and let Fred and George to drag her into a retelling of the time Lee broke his arm falling through the trick step at Hogwarts.

The twins disappeared as the table was being cleared and a few minutes later, there was a loud crash and the room filled with beautiful light. Winona gasped, diving out of the way of a stray firework, settling into a corner to watch the colours splash across the room.

Red and blue stars bounced from the floor to the ceiling, sparkling prettily, and she longed to reach out and touch one, but was worried they would burn her hand. Fred noticed and reached out, snatching one from the air, kneeling to the floor and presenting it to her like a ring.

With a brilliant laugh she took it, running her fingers over its temporary surface as it continued to shimmer and sparkle in her hand.

It went on for at least a half an hour, and finally, once all the lights had faded and the excitement melted into contented exhaustion, the kids all headed up to bed, preparing for an early start the next day.

That morning was a rough one. Winona was woken by Mrs Weasley's shrill, anxious voice at daybreak. She groaned, rolling reluctantly out of bed and heading for the shower. Somebody was already in there, so she waited outside the door, almost falling to sleep again up against the wall until Fred walked by and flicked her with a hand towel to wake her up.

She dressed quickly in jeans and a blue button up, slipping on her favourite (only) sneakers and making her way back to the bedroom to pack her things in record time.

"Can't wait till we're seventeen," George was muttering when she passed him on the stairs, a piece of toast hanging limply from her mouth. "Don't know why mum 'n dad can't just wave their wands and do it themselves."

Winona was tired and also not in the mood to run around the Burrow like a headless chook, hurrying to get her things in order, but she didn't wanna deal with grumpy 6AM George either, so she ripped the toast from her lips, shoving it ruthlessly into her dear friend's mouth before slapping him hard on the back in a wordless consolation and continuing up the staircase.

They reached Kings Cross at a quarter to eleven (thanks to George, Fred, Ginny and their terrible, horrible capacity for memory), and it was yet another mad dash to get to the platform.

"Percy first," Mrs Weasley ordered, and after taking a cursory glance at the surrounding Muggles, Percy strode casually (as casually as one _could_ walk smack into a brick wall) through the barrier, disappearing in seconds. Mr Weasley went next, then Fred and George, and finally she urged Winona through. With a nod, she glanced at the Muggles, made sure nobody was watching, and disappeared through the barrier, reappearing on platform nine and three-quarters.

Glancing up at the large clock sitting on the wall, she noted she barely had two minutes to be on the train. Rushing, Winona found the twins waiting by the carriage, and they were quick to help her lug her trunk onto the train. The blonde turned, waving gratefully at Mrs Weasley, who was fussing affectionately over Ginny, then turned and hopped onto the train.

Being so late, there weren't any compartments empty, but she was more than relieved to find Angelina, Alicia and Lee had secured one towards the middle of the train.

"Hey, you lot," she greeted them, slipping inside, trunk dragged after her.

"Where're the twins?" Angelina asked once she was inside and her trunk was shoved up and out of sight.

"They were right behind me," she replied just as the door burst open and their two redheaded cohorts burst into the compartment.

"Alright?" Lee asked them, standing to help them with their trunks.

"Mum wanted us to get Ginny settled," George told him as Fred took the spare seat beside Alicia.

"How was your summer?" Angelina was asking them excitedly, reaching up to brush back her dark, frizzy hair in a move that reminded Winona of that that in Diagon Alley with Adam, making her cheeks warm with the memory. Thankfully nobody noticed, too busy listening to the twins retelling the story of their dad's brawl with Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts.

The train pulled away from the station, and Winona cast a look at Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were waving to someone in another carriage – undoubtedly Ginny. She wished suddenly that she had parents of her own to see her off, then just as quickly shook it off and thought sternly that wishing never did anybody any good.

Lee produced a pack of Exploding Snap which the twins eagerly engaged in, while Alicia began to tell Angelina and Winona about her vacation to Italy over the summer.

It was a half an hour later that there was a knock on the compartment door and Hermione poked her head inside the carriage, a frown fixed onto her face.

"Salutations, Granger," George greeted her cheekily just as the pile of cards between them exploded, making Hermione flinch at the sound and the twins break into cackles.

"Have any of you seen Harry or Ron?" Hermione asked, a concerned frown furrowed at her brow.

"Nah," Fred told her as the others shook their heads.

"Have you checked all the compartments?" Winona suggested, frowning herself at the thought of Harry and Ron not being on the train. It was like there was something important about this fact, sitting just out of reach of her consciousness – surely it couldn't be that important, though, otherwise wouldn't she have Seen it?

"I've been up and down the whole train twice!" Poor Hermione was beginning to look terribly frazzled. "Where could they possibly be?"

"Maybe they missed the train," Fred joked with another careless cackle. Winona roll her eyes.

"It isn't funny," Hermione said grumpily, frowning at them all in sharp disapproval.

"They'll be fine, Granger," Alicia told the younger girl kindly. "Fred's right, they've probably just missed the train."

"They'll just Floo to the school or something," Angelina added, trying to help.

"Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?" Fred asked, half distracted by the game of Exploding Snap that had yet to cease, despite Hermione's entrance. Winona wished he hadn't said that, because now something was _guaranteed_ to go wrong.

"I suppose," Hermione murmured, unconvinced.

"Do you wanna sit with us?" Winona offered, shuffling closer to Alicia to make more room.

"No, it's fine," she replied, casting a wary look at the rambunctious twins. Winona smothered a wry smile of amusement.

"Why don't you go and find Ginny?" she suggested. "I'm sure she could do with a familiar face."

Hermione brightened, shooting them all a small, grateful smile before stepping from the compartment and letting the door click shut behind her. Lee shouted at the twins for cheating, which they loudly and adamantly denied, and Alicia dove into the fray, clearly on Lee's side.

Sensing an opportunity for peace, Winona pulled messenger bag closer to her, rustling in it for her sketchbook and a pencil, then curling up in the corner and beginning to work on one of her older sketches.

The boys and Alicia were loud, yelling over each other with laughter interspersed throughout. Winona was content to half listen, finding the buzz of noise comforting – it was her school background music, the sound the carried her through long nights of horrible studying before tests, and walks around the lake filled with lighthearted arguments and uncontrollable laughter.

If you were going to be friends with the twins, after all, you'd had better get used to the racket that came with them.

"Is that Adam Bradley?" Angelina spoke up. Mercifully, her voice was soft, ensuring the noisy quartet on the other side of the compartment wouldn't catch it.

Winona looked up sharply, like she'd been caught doing something she wasn't meant to. The older Ravenclaw's face was quite clearly sketched on the sheet of paper, done with metallic pencil, showing him with that crooked grin that she found so attractive.

"You still like him, huh?" her friend asked mischievously, a kind but playful glint in her dark eyes.

Casting a glance over at the distracted group by the door, Winona contemplated admitting to what had happened in Diagon Alley.

Usually she'd have told the twins – they always told each other _everything_ – but this wasn't daydreams of taking over the planet or murmurings about their worries over money; this was _boys_. She wasn't sure they even _wanted _to hear her talking about her infatuation with the Ravenclaw prefect. She decided not to bother them with it; besides, they would likely fall into their default response – merciless teasing.

Still, this didn't mean she couldn't share it with _anyone._

If she wasn't going to confide in the twins, then Angelina was probably next on her list.

"I saw him in Diagon Alley the other day," she revealed quietly, casting the others another glance to ensure they weren't eavesdropping. The twins were yelling at Lee, using large, exuberant hand gestures, and Lee and Alicia were gripping their stomachs as they howled with laughter.

"Really?" Angelina sounded intrigued. "What happened?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet too, sensing Winona's need to keep this between them.

"He, uh...well, he sort of...asked me out," Winona finally admitted with a hint of awkwardness, a wince on her face as she spoke, hoping telling Angelina this wasn't going to come back to bite her.

"_What_?!" Angelina shouted, but thankfully the others seemed to not notice over their own howled conversation, and they remained undiscovered. "When? Where? _How_?"

"He asked me to Hogsmeade when the first trip comes around," she told her gently, turning back to her sketch if only for something to do with her hands.

"Wow," Angelina seemed shellshocked.

"You could sound less shocked," Winona threw in, half playful, half snide.

"I'm so happy for you!" Angelina told her, rather than rise to the bait. "What are you going to wear?!"

"Uh, hadn't gotten that far," Winona replied with a frown.

"You can borrow something of mine," she assured her, and for a moment Winona was insulted. Was she insinuating that her own clothes weren't of a high enough calibre to go on a date in?

Frowning, she cast her outfit and glance, taking in her holey jeans and old, unimpressive button up.

...Perhaps borrowing something of Angelina's wouldn't be totally astray.

"What're you two whispering about over there?!" Fred shouted so abruptly that both girls turned to look at him in surprise. Feeling a flare of panic, Winona turned to Angelina with a pleading stare.

"We're discussing which one of you we'd most like to see naked," Angelina replied without missing a beat. Winona practically sagged with relief.

The boys all puffed up like peacocks. "And which was it?" George asked, flexing his arms a little as though this might sway the vote.

"I voted Alicia," Winona supplied playfully, shaking off her stupor and falling into their regular, comforting routine. Alicia threw her head back and laughed, while Lee, George and Fred all looked terribly put out.

"Well, if you're just going to be mean..." Fred murmured sourly, acting miffed.

Lee made a lewd joke that took the focus off of them, and she was relieved, allowing the twins to coerce her into a round of Exploding Snap, shutting her sketchbook and slipping it away, shuffling over so she sat beside Fred and began to play. She felt good, happy and light, like she was on her way home...

If only she didn't have such a terrible feeling about the year they were about to embark on.

* * *

The feast was beyond brilliant – Winona particularly liked the butter chicken. She had her mouth full when she felt eyes lingering on her face, a quickly looking up warily to find Adam Bradley looking at her from across the room at the Ravenclaw table.

Squeaking around her mouthful, Winona swallowed so largely that her throat ached and lifted a hand in a weak wave. He grinned at her, the expression gorgeous and crooked. Someone beside him said something, and his attention was diverted, leaving her staring at him like an idiot. Quickly looking away, Winona hurried to take a deep swig of pumpkin juice to soothe her now-sore throat.

Winona noticed Snape had disappeared towards the beginning of the feast, then later, Katie nudged her when he returned only to collect Professor McGonagall.

"What's going on, do you reckon?" the younger girl asked, turning around with excited eyes.

"Maybe there's another troll loose in the castle!" Fred suggested from opposite them, halfway through his plate of mashed potatoes and carrots. "How brilliant would that be?!"

"A girl can dream," Winona agreed.

A few minutes later, Dumbledore too was standing and sweeping from the room. Although confused, Winona was content to fill her stomach and catch up with all her friends rather than worry about whatever drama was going on at Hogwarts this time round.

"Did you hear?!" a fifth year appeared at their side as the feast was concluded and Dumbledore sent everyone off to their dormitories.

"You'll have to be more specific," George deadpanned, but the fifth year was unbothered, looking about ready to shoot up into the air from excitement.

"Harry Potter and _your_ brother flew a _flying car_ here, instead of taking the train!" he revealed, barely able to contain himself. The twins could do no more than gape in sheer, utter disbelief, while Winona's eyebrows hit her hairline, the words simply not computing. "And that's not all! They crashed into the _Weeping Willow_!"

Winona's insides swooped. "Are they okay?!" she asked worriedly.

"Apart from getting expelled, yeah," the guy laughed, then turned and raced away, eager to keep spreading the news amongst his curious peers. The twins were rarely rendered speechless, but the pair seemed unable to find words as they processed this information.

"Well, I guess that explains why they weren't on the train," Winona murmured, reaching up to scratch at her temple. "Why would they do that, though? It doesn't sound like them."

"These are the kids who fought a mountain troll _and_ a three headed dog in their first year alone," George argued, seeming to find his voice.

"But why would they take the car when the train was right there?" she countered. "They're brave, not stupid; your dad could get in serious trouble."

"Shit," Fred cursed. "Didn't think of that."

"Still," George added cheerfully. "That's pretty bloody brilliant."

"If anything, we're just mad they didn't take us with them."

"What if they really _are_ expelled?" Winona asked, frowning at the thought. Why would she have so many visions of Harry's future if the kid was never going to set foot inside the castle again? Surely Dumbledore wouldn't throw Harry out for this. If it were just Ron, then maybe, but would he really risk sending Harry out alone, unprotected, into the big bad world?

"_Worth it_," the twins replied, utterly uncaring. Winona rolled her eyes as she gracefully leapt over the trick step and continued to climb towards the Tower. They didn't have to say the password, a steady stream of students already flowing into the common room, and when they stepped inside it seemed all anybody could talk about were the antics of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

"Best thing to happen since you two dyed Nott's hair red in second year!" Lee was howling to the twins, and they laughed along, animatedly answering questions about Ron from their curious housemates.

Winona felt the urge to disappear up to her dorm and shower, dress in her most comfortable clothes and curl up in bed to sketch until she felt tired enough to sleep – but the pull of excitement in the common room was just enough to keep her down there.

She chatted with Katie and Angelina, all squeezed onto the large armchair in the far corner, until finally the portrait door opened and the boys-of-the-hour arrived, the whole room going mad with exuberant cheers.

Harry and Ron looked blindsided by the welcome, but they quickly made their escape up to their dorm, leaving the action in the common room to abruptly fizzle out, much to Winona's relief.

The next day at breakfast she ate her porridge and listened to Katie talk about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts, slyly adding in lewd comments about Oliver Wood that made her friend flush red. The twins were sitting further down the table, chatting with Lee in quiet undertones, which she knew didn't bode well for the rest of the school's inhabitants.

"-**STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE-**"

Winona whirled around, dropping her spoon to slam her hands over her ears, Mrs Weasley's wrathful voice booming throughout the Great Hall. From further up the table, Ron had turned a deep crimson, sliding down further in his seat like it might somehow make him invisible to the hundreds of eyes staring at him.

"-**LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! I'M ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!**"

The Howler promptly ripped itself up and burst into a small ball of flames. Ron looked like he was desperately hoping for the sweet release of death. From down the table, Fred and George were in hysterics, and Winona had to grin at the predictability of her closest friends.

"Miss Andrews," McGonagall's stern voice distracted her, and Winona looked up from where she was watching the twins, turning to her Head of House respectfully. "Your schedule," she said curtly, handing her a sheet of parchment, then seeing Alicia sitting beside her, gave hers out as well.

"Thank you, Professor," she replied politely, taking it and watching as the teacher gave a terse nod and left to give Angelina hers.

"Charms, this morning," Alicia proclaimed happily. "Then the whole day free!" She cast Winona an abrupt flat look. "Suppose you'll want to spend it sketching or something, though," she added in fond exasperation.

"Hadn't thought about it," Winona replied. Honestly, she'd hadn't considered it, but now that she had, that certainly _did_ sound like a perfectly spent afternoon. The pair climbed to their feet, scanning the hall for their friends before silently agreeing to merely meet them at class.

"What do you suppose the afternoon has in store for us, ladies?" Fred and George had appeared behind them just as they were exiting the Hall, one each throwing an arm over their shoulders, dragging them along playfully.

"Winona wants to bury herself in her sketchbook," Alicia made a point to complain.

"What's new?" Fred asked mischievously. Winona rolled her eyes as she knocked his arm off of her shoulders, ducking out from under him and moving away before he could retaliate.

"Well, I'm open to better offers," she quipped lightly.

"We could sneak into Hogsmeade," George suggested eagerly.

Alicia turned to look at the pair in horrified exasperation. "It's the _first day_ of classes," she reminded them shortly, as though they might have somehow forgotten.

"Exactly!" crowed Fred. "Best get the year off to a good start and all!"

Alicia muttered something that might have been either a curse or an insult before abruptly dragging George along after her towards the Charms classroom, leaving Winona and Fred scrambling to keep up.

Class passed quickly – Flitwick merely had them going over the course outlines, reminding them that OWLs were coming up in 'only two short years', and that it was best they focused on their studies more intently than ever before. She had a feeling she'd be hearing this speech often throughout her next two years at Hogwarts.

Next thing Winona knew, she was wandering out of the classroom, halfheartedly listening to Lee as he chattered on about needing to study up on the Seize and Pull Charm, since they would be doing a revision of it in the next lesson they had with Flitwick.

"What're your plans?" she asked Fred and George, who exchanged mischievous grins at the question. Winona tried not to sigh. "Does it involve something illegal?" she asked, somehow already knowing what the answer would be.

"'Illegal' only comes into play if you get caught," Fred winked. Winona rolled her eyes. She was sure whatever it was wasn't 'illegal' _per se_, but she could guarantee it went against school rules, and she wasn't in the mood for a detention on the first day back.

"Okay then, you two," she said, already digging in her messenger bag, checking that she had all her supplies and didn't need to run up to the common room for anything. "I'll see you later," she told them absently, leaving them to their plotting and wandering from the hall, heading deeper into the castle, looking for a view that was worthy of her first session of the year.

The astronomy tower was her usual destination, but she wanted something different this time, and instead wandered around to the west side of the castle, where she could look out over the mountains without climbing so many stairs.

She settled herself onto the large, flat windowsill, pulling out her materials and getting to work. The whole school was silent – or so it seemed, from her own little corner of the towering castle. It was warm, but the sun was hidden behind a thick bank of clouds, and she found herself wishing it would rain. The white-noise the weather made would have made the whole scene perfect.

She lost herself in her work for hours, using simple coloured pencils this time, trying to get the red shade of Dumbledore's phoenix familiar, Fawkes, _just _right.

"Winona!" a pleasant voice exclaimed so suddenly that she flinched, just barely stopping herself from accidentally ruining her sketch. She turned, blinking at Adam in surprise, watching as he smiled crookedly.

Was he ever _not _smiling?

"Adam," she greeted him calmly. "Hi." Pausing, she scanned the hall they were in, nobody else in sight. "How did you find me?" she asked, wondering how, out of the entire castle, he was able to find her in this tiny, secluded alcove.

"Saw the Weasley twins, thought they might know," he told her charmingly. Winona internally cursed. She was going to be hounded with questions when she saw them next. They must have consulted the Map and let him know where she was. "Do you mind?" he asked, suddenly seeming unsure.

"Not at all," Winona assured him, sitting up properly and dragging her legs under her, leaving room on the large windowsill for the Ravenclaw prefect to sit too.

"What are you studying in Charms at the moment?" he asked. She was kind of surprised by the choice of topic, but she didn't let on, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as she answered.

Thus began a long-winded conversation about the year four course load compared to fifth year's and beyond. It wasn't the most engaging topic he could have chosen, but he seemed entertained by it, rambling on about some essay he'd gotten top marks on in his fourth year.

Winona listened, not really taking in any of his words, but rather just taking in his form. Her fingers longed to etch his likeness onto parchment. She wanted to draw the regal slope of his nose and spend hours getting the fluff of his hair just right. He really was a lovely specimen.

He suddenly looked less preoccupied by the topic of Silencing Charms and more focused on her, and she realised at once that he'd asked her a question. "So?" he prompted her. "What do you think?"

"Uhhh," she floundered. He stared at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"My thoughts exactly," he beamed, so apparently she'd said the right thing.

From overhead the bell rang, signalling the beginning of dinner, and Adam was up like a rocket. Winona got the feeling he didn't like to be late to anything, ever.

"May I walk you to the Great Hall?" he asked hopefully. A little bit flustered by the politeness of the question, Winona quickly nodded her head and climbed to her feet. Adam kept talking as they made their way towards the Great Hall, but Winona didn't mind. It meant she didn't have to think of something clever to say. "Well, this is where I leave you," he said as they wandered through the large double doors.

"Thanks for walking with me," she said, because it seemed like what she was supposed to say. "I had a nice time talking to you."

Adam grinned wide, his teeth perfectly straight and sparkling like pearls. "Any time," he told her, and she got the feeling he really meant it. Shooting him a smile of her own, Winona made her way towards the Gryffindor table, holding her bag close to her chest, hugging it tight like it might grow arms and hug her back.

Her head was still up in the clouds when she found her friends, taking a seat beside Alicia, opposite Fred and George. The twins began to make singsong 'oohing' sounds the moment she sat down, and so she picked up a bread roll from the pile and launched it in their general direction. They remained unperturbed, snickering devilishly at her flushed cheeks.

"Was that _Adam Bradly_ we saw you walk in with?" asked Alicia, eyes wide.

"Yeah," she said, doing her best to seem unaffected. "We're friends, so what?"

"Don't be coy, Winnie," said Angelina from across the table. She turned to the twins, mischief in her eyes. "He asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade on the first free day of the term."

The twins' jaws popped open and they made their eyes go comically wide. Winona ignored them, beginning to pile steamed vegetables onto her plate.

"Our little Winnie's growing up," George playfully sniffled.

"Soon enough she'll leave us to go procreate with that Ravenclaw prefect, and we'll have nothing but our memories to keep us warm," Fred cried out woefully.

Winona swiped up another bread roll, tossing it at him with flaming cheeks. She watched with satisfaction as it smacked him on the nose, and he scrunched his face at her indignantly. "Don't be gross," she ordered him, still red with embarrassment.

The twins only sniggered, and Winona turned to Angelina with a scowl.

"You're the worst," she told her darkly. Angelina shot her an innocent grin and went on cutting into her lamb cutlet.

The next day was Gryffindor's first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson for the year, and the class was divided into the people dreading it and the people who simply couldn't _wait_ to get a closer look at the _wonderful _Gilderoy Lockhart.

Winona was one of the ones dreading it. Dragging her feet all the way to class, Fred and George had to forcibly yank her along after them to ensure they wouldn't be late.

"Come on, Win," George said encouragingly. "At the very least, it'll be a laugh."

He was right about that much, so, although she grumbled reluctant obscenities under her breath, she went willingly. Lockhart was already in the classroom when they arrived, a short ten seconds before the bell rang throughout the great castle, signalling the beginning of the lesson.

"Hello," Lockhart greeted them with a large, toothy smile once Winona and Fred had taken the remaining desk in the back of the room – the front completely filled by eager witches, Angelina and Alicia among them. George rolled his eyes at them from where he sat a desk in front of Winona and his twin, beside an exasperated Lee. "My name is Gilderoy Lockhart," the teacher told them dramatically, adopting a stance with his fists pressed to his hips that reminded Winona perfectly of the old _Superman_ comics she used to steal from the local store and read as a kid.

Imagining Lockhart in spandex caused her to give a snorting laugh that she covered by pretending to cough. The professor – and she used that word very lightly – didn't appear to notice, but the twins certainly weren't convinced.

"Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award," the tosser continued with distinct pride, shooting them a grin that was all teeth and zero charm. He was attractive, objectively, but his personality made it impossible to like him the moment he opened his mouth.

Winona would be having words with Angelina and Alicia, who had both sighed audibly at his so called 'charming smile'.

"To start off, I thought I'd hand out a little quiz; I've given every year level the same one, just to see how well you've all read the required books."

Leaning back in her chair, Winona waited impatiently for him to wander around the room, passing out the sheets of parchment with the quiz on them.

"You have half an hour," Lockhart announced. "Beginning..._now_!"

With a tiny sigh, Winona flipped open the parchment, dipping her quill in ink and reading the first question. Only to do a rather cliche double-take when she read what was written.

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?_

Winona blinked in disbelief, turning to stare wide-eyed at Fred and George, both of whom were sniggering into their arms in pure, unrestrained glee.

"He can't be serious," she hissed to them, but they only continued to laugh. She turned back to her quiz, debating what to do.

Indignation surged through her. Sure_, _maybeshe wasn't the best student in the world, but that was her right _as _a student. These people were paid to _teach _them, and DADA was such an important class – she'd seen the things coming, seen what the future held, and the man put in place to teach them how to survive was beginning his position by asking about _himself?_

"Motherfucker," she whispered, and Fred, who sat closest to her left, let out a loud guffaw that he masked as a coughing fit when Lockhart looked up. "Screw this," she added, and he turned to look at her curiously.

What was his favourite colour?

_Puke yellow,_ she wrote in flowery, elegant script.

Fred laughed again when he saw what she wrote, and this time there was no mistaking the sound. "Something funny, young man?" Lockhart asked from where he was leant against his large, ornate oak desk.

"Thinking about one of your many brilliant stories, Sir," Fred responded innocently, and Lockhart beamed in response.

"The time I convinced that ghastly vampire to bite itself?"

"That's the one," Fred agreed, and Lockhart too broke out into reminscent chuckles. The classroom went silent again, and Winona turned back to the task she'd assigned herself.

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?_

_To become part of a same-sex, figure skating duo, _she wrote without a moment's hesitation, and Fred beamed at her brilliantly, something like pride on his expression that made her warm. She grinned back, shooting him a playful wink and nudging for him to return to his quiz, seeing that he, too, had taken on the task of making the answers as ridiculous as humanly possible.

_What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

Although some wonderfully awful things came to mind, she did have _some _sense of self-preservation, and knew if any of these sentences made their way back to McGonagall, she'd be in deep shit.

_Surviving his shallow, mindless fan club,_ she wrote instead, and it continued on that way for the next twenty-five minutes, the answers getting more and more brilliantly snide as time wore on.

Finally he called the end to the quiz and she and Fred handed in their parchment. Lockhart stood up the front, scanning each quiz and shaking his head in disappointment. They knew when he'd reached theirs, when his eyes went wide and he shot them the first expression other than a constipated smile that he'd given all lesson.

"I must say, I am severely disappointed in all of you," Lockhart tutted. "You all _must _go back and re-read my collection. _Nobody_ could name my favourite colour – which is _lilac_," he added firmly, "and nobody knew that my childhood ambition was to be considered 'debonair' by _Witch Weekly_."

He sighed, like someone awfully troubled.

"Oh well," he said sadly. "We'll work on it." He paused, turning to narrow his sparkling blue eyes at Fred and Winona, who both sat smirking proudly in the right corner of the classroom. "Weasley and Andrews, was it?" he asked, having to glance down at the roster of names to know. "You may both see me after class."

He focused back on the quote-unquote 'lesson', but Winona and Fred high-fived while his back was turned.

"I was going to let you handle a cage of some of the most foul, devilish creatures known to wizard-kind," he said with great theatrics. "Freshly caught Cornish Pixies! _Unfortunately_, there was something of a mishap with my second years yesterday, and that will no longer be possible."

There was silence from the class, but Lockhart smiled and waved a hand as though there had been a great outcry of disappointment.

"Not to worry," he told them assuredly. "Today we will be studying creatures known as _Erklings_! And then, in the coming weeks, once I feel you've learnt all you can to defend yourselves, I will release them onto you, and we'll see how you fare!"

The class was silent again, bewildered by this man's teaching method.

Winona turned to Fred, feeling oddly depressed. "What was George saying about this being a laugh, again?"

* * *

When it came to Friday, they had History of Magic (or, as Winona, Fred and George liked to call it: _nap time_) first, and then, well rested, they moved on to Charms, which was easy enough, and finally, double fucking Potions.

The Dungeons were, safe to say, Winona's least favourite place in the entire castle. The only good thing about them was the kitchens, but even then the trip down was never fun; they tended to run into Slytherins heading to and from their common room – it led to more fights than were strictly necessary, or enjoyable.

It was the last class of the entire week, and Winona had never been looking forward to the final bell ringing so much as she was by the end of that class.

"You know, the poison antidote we're studying will really come in handy for the, y'know, _thing_ that we're working on," George was saying to Fred as they meandered back up to ground level, heading for the common room to wash off the stench of chemicals that clung to Snape's classroom like a smog.

Fred agreed and the two lowered their heads, beginning to mutter eagerly about something or other involving their inventions. Winona was too tired to bother keeping up. She was failing Potions anyway, so she doubted she would have understood.

"Hey Winona," Ron and Harry met up with her on the way to the Tower, leaving Fred and George to themselves when they saw they were occupied. "Can we ask a favour?" Ron continued, looking hopeful.

"Shoot," she replied, reaching back to tie up her hair, noting absently that it needed a good wash.

"Will you help us with our star charts for Astronomy?"

Surprised, Winona came to a stop, letting the twins wander on ahead of her, already halfway up the staircase. "Me?" she asked, bewildered. "Why not ask Hermione?"

"She's already helping us with History of Magic," Harry explained. "And Potions…_and_ Transfiguration…"

Winona frowned. "I think you guys should consider hiring a real tutor," she murmured. They didn't acknowledge the suggestion, but just continued to stare up at her pleadingly. "I don't know, guys," she said with a sigh, casting the stairs a longing stare, yearning for a hot shower. "What makes you think _I'm _the girl to come to?" she asked, beginning to walk again, forcing the boys to hurry along after her.

"Fred was telling me how you help them with theirs," Ron admitted.

"Was he, now?"

"He said you're top of the class, even though he has no idea how, since you're failing almost everything else," Ron added casually. Winona cast him a sour look that seemed to make him regret saying anything at all.

"Anyway, we just need some help figuring it out, then we should be able to manage on our own," Harry assured her as they approached the portrait hole, the Fat Lady giving them a cursory glance. "Willow-wood," Harry said to her, and with a scowl the door swung open.

"Come find me after dinner, I'll give you guys a rundown," she relented, and they both beamed at her gratefully. "Am I allowed to go, now?"

The hurriedly nodded and with an affectionate roll of her eyes Winona left and made her way up the stairs to her dorm, tossing her messenger bag on her bed, fishing out a change of clothes and wandering into the bathroom.

Angelina was there when she came out, fresh-faced and damp-haired, sitting on her bed and brushing out her curly hair with an antique, enchanted brush.

"Coming down to dinner?" Winona asked her, tugging at the hem of her Weasley sweater, a soft peachy colour with a golden 'D' sewn into the front, before slipping her compulsory black robe on over the comfortable clothes, which had to be worn during meal times on weekdays.

"Meet you there," Angelina said distractedly. Winona realised a copy of _Witch Weekly _lay open in front of her. With a shrug, Winona returned to the common room to find it half-full, people slowly beginning to filter out, heading down to dinner.

She spied Lee chatting with Katie by the portrait hole and made to go meet them, only to be stopped halfway across the room as a small, blonde boy leapt out in front of her, an exuberant expression on his face, little body practically vibrating with excitement, much like a Chihuahua.

"Yes?" she asked when he said nothing, beaming at her in an intense silence.

"You're Winona, right?" he asked eagerly, continuing on before she could answer. "A fourth year and close friend of Harry Potter?"

"Uh, I guess so," she murmured, bemused by the strange little boy. She probably wouldn't label herself as a 'close friend' of Harry Potter. She liked the kid, they had a bond in a way she couldn't quite describe, but it wasn't exactly like they met up to play Gobstones every other evening. "What's up?" she asked the boy, impatient to get down to dinner, stomach crying out for food.

"Well, Harry was going to sign a photo for me-"

"_Harry_, was going to _sign_ a _photo_, for you?" she repeated slowly, trying to understand what he was saying. Had she somehow stepped out of the shower and into an alternate reality where Harry suddenly gave a shit about his fame?

"Uh-huh," the kid nodded happily, beaming like this was the greatest thing to ever happen to him in his entire life. "But I can't seem to find him anywhere," he said, glancing around the room again as though he might have accidentally overlooked the Boy-Who-Lived. "Do you know where he is?"

"…Probably down at dinner… Where everyone else is heading."

"Right!" he grinned like she'd said the most clever thing on the face of the Earth. "Well, when we see him, can you take a picture of us together? I tried getting one of him before, but it's not enough proof that I've _really _met him, you know?"

"Um..."

"I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be in the same House as him! It's incredible!"

Winona was perplexed. "What did you say your name was?" she asked, guessing he must have been a first year, judging by his size and the sheer fact that the novelty of Harry's celebrity status had yet to fade.

"Colin!" he answered her happily, looking thrilled that she'd asked for his name. "Colin Creevey!"

"Okay, well, I'm sure Ron or Hermione will be pleased to take the photo for you," she said carefully, glancing over at Lee, trying to come up with one of her famous escape plans, but she was coming up dry.

"But you're friends with him too, aren't you?!" Colin asked fervently.

"Yeah, but I don't see him that often," she replied, and Colin leaned around to get another look around the common room, searching for everyone's favourite Gryffindor. She glanced over at Lee, who was now waving at her come join him. "There's my friend!" she said to Colin abruptly. "I gotta go, see you round?"

"Oh, right! Of course!" Colin nodded enthusiastically, practically lighting up like a Christmas tree, like she'd suggested they get together once a week to play chess.

Shooting him a final smile, she turned and got the hell out of dodge, making a beeline for Lee and all but shoving he and Katie out the portrait hole. Colin seemed like a sweet kid, but he seemed just a little too intense for her tastes.

Winona couldn't find either Fred or George the next morning at breakfast, but when she noticed that Alicia, Katie, Angelina _and_ Harry were all missing too, she put the pieces together.

"Wood's a real slave-driver, isn't he?" she asked Ron and Hermione conversationally as she slipped into place beside them, Lee already sitting on the other end, chatting with Seamus and Dean from second year.

"Made them go out at dawn," Ron replied, mouth sticky with marmalade.

Winona rolled her eyes, quickly downing a helping of porridge before wrapping up some hash browns and toast for the twins. "I'm gonna head down there, make sure the twins aren't dead on their brooms," she said casually. "Wanna come with?"

The duo agreed, stocking up on enough toast to last them and following her down to the pitch. The weather was nippy, but Winona was kept warm in her thickest jeans and jumper.

The team wasn't even out on the field, but still in the locker room. Hermione and Ron murmured between themselves about Snape and something he'd said the other day, Ron using a word that made Hermione gasp and Winona smirk, when finally the team appeared from the locker room, all looking bored to tears.

Ron began to call to Harry, but Winona quickly descended the stairs, coming to a stop by the twins, whose eyes were still swollen from the early-morning wake up call.

"Here you are," she said to them, and they blinked in surprise, not having noticed her until she was directly in front of them. They looked from her face to the handful of wrapped food she was holding out and just about collapsed in sheer relief.

"You're our favourite bird of all the birds there are," Fred told her, snatching his share from her and scarfing it down like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I know," she replied patiently, rolling her eyes fondly as George took his too, grinning at her and devouring it in an impressive three bites.

"Andrews!" Wood shouted from across the field. "Stop distracting my team!"

Winona poked her tongue out childishly, patted both twins squarely on the chest in encouragement, then took their used napkins and headed back up into the stands.

From behind them, Winona heard a furious clicking as that Colin boy took photo after photo. Ron rolled his eyes at the sound.

The team were barely in the air three minutes before another distraction came knocking, this one in the form of the Slytherins who marched across the field like they owned it, donned in their emerald robes, proud sneers on their ugly faces.

The Gryffindors landed, striding across to meet the other team in the middle, then a conversation was had in low tones that Winona couldn't hear. She kept an eye on Fred and George, and when she saw them tense, she knew it was time to intervene.

"I'm going down there," she announced abruptly, standing to her feet and making her way to the stairs.

"Me too," Ron agreed.

Hermione made a sound of weak protest, but just ended up sighing and following close behind.

"What's happening?" Ron was asking Harry the moment they were close enough. "Why aren't you playing? And what's _he_ doing here?"

Winona made a beeline for the twins, stepped in between them securely, letting her keen eyes sweep over the Slytherin team, all of whom were wearing triumphant leers.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Malfoy said smugly, and Winona wanted to slap him so hard that he lost the ability to sneer. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him. Winona glanced down, taking in the sleek black _Nimbus Two Thousand and One'_s they held in their hands, feeling the twins radiating contempt from behind her.

"Good, aren't they?" Malfoy continued to unwisely goad them. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin's all howled with laughter, like that was the absolute most clever burn they'd ever witnessed in their pathetic little lives.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione said with endlessly sharp wit. "They got in on pure talent."

Malfoy's confidence wavered, but he regained it with a furious snarl. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. Winona went somehow numb and hot at the same time, a boiling fury overtaking her.

"You pointy-faced, motherfucking-" she began to swear, taking a step closer and prepared to fight, her hands already tensed into fists. She usually didn't hit kids younger than her, but she'd sure as shit make an exception for Malfoy.

Arms wrapped around her middle and firmly yanked her upwards. Her feet left the ground as she struggled, but her captor was persistent, gripping her tightly and spinning around as she lashed out in an attempt to clip Malfoy in the side of the head.

She held a simmering rage in her gut, but she knew it was for the best that someone had stopped her. Putting Malfoy in the hospital wing was more trouble than it was worth. Once he was sure she wasn't going to leap at the Slytherins again, Fred lowered her feet back onto the ground. Pulling out of Fred's arms with unnecessary force, Winona crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Malfoy with such a terrifying ferocity that the kid flinched back at the sight of it.

"How dare you!" Alicia was screeching, Angelina the one to hold _her _back.

Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand and yelled, "you'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" pointing it under Flint's arm at Malfoy's stupid face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass of the pitch.

Everyone was silent in the following few seconds, all shocked by the unexpected turn things had taken. Then Hermione was squealing, "Ron! Ron! Are you all right?"

And the twins were tense, staring at their little brother in anxious concern. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth, right onto his lap. The Slytherins roared with laughter from behind them, but the Gryffindors paid them no attention, hovering around Ron in concern.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"Do you need help?" Winona asked them, but Harry glanced up at the twins, who were glaring at the Slytherins with an unmatchable fury.

"Help _them_," he said, but something told her he wasn't telling her to _stop _them from inflicting damage, so much as the _opposite_. She grinned, the expression evil, and Harry turned, helping Hermione in dragging Ron from the stadium and towards Hagrid's Hut.

The Weasley twins cracked their knuckles, and abruptly, Malfoy didn't find it quite so funny. Now that her head had cleared, Winona knew that while revenge was most _definitely _in order, having a punch up in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch wasn't the most effective of options.

"No," she warned the twins, but they didn't seem in the mood to listen, surging forwards and leaving Winona to dart in between them and Malfoy, saving the pointy little ferret's sorry arse.

The twins were Beaters – they'd pummel him into the dirt. And as much as she'd have loved to see that, it was more trouble than it was worth. All they'd get was a ban from Quidditch and a year's worth of detentions – if they weren't expelled on sight, that was.

"Boys," she said sternly, pressing a hand to either of their chests and shoving them back. "We'll get them," she promised, seeing the dangerous glint to their eyes and knowing it was mirrored in hers. "We'll go _right_ now and plan the greatest, most humiliating revenge known to wizard-kind. But this, right here? _This_ is a bad idea."

This seemed to get through to them, and though the rest of the Slytherins were only just now getting over the 'hilarity' of the situation, Malfoy gulped, seeing the savage glean to their eyes, hungry for revenge.

"Come on, team," Wood ordered, casting Flint a final glower before turning and nodding for the Gryffindors to leave the field.

Winona grasped both the twins' wrists, firmly dragging them away from the situation. They would get even, and Malfoy wouldn't walk away unscathed. She would make sure of it.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed. For those of you who've read _Heart of the Storm_, it will please you to know I'm working very hard on the sequel. Still have a long way to go, but it's coming together nicely. As for So Close to Magic, things are beginning to heat up. I hope you're all ready. Leave me a review letting me know what you thought of this chapter, and where you think I'm going next. I think I'll surprise some of you in weeks to come ;)**


	14. Say something witty

"You want me to _what_?!"

"Come on, Winnie," the twins looked dangerously close to collapsing to their knees in desperation. "He'll never trust either of us to get close enough."

"Absolutely not."

"It won't be so bad, and it'll be completely worth it in the end!"

"You want me to _steal _Draco Malfoy's _wand_?" she said again, just to absolutely clarify that she understood.

"And replace it with this fake one we got from Zonko's," George confirmed, nodding eagerly.

"I'm not exactly a Pure-blood, so correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it against the _law_ to mess with another wizard's wand?"

"Not against the law," he assured her blithely, nodding his head eagerly, like he had her on his line. "It's just...frowned upon."

Winona gave a sigh of great exhaustion, reaching up to rub at her temples.

"Come _on_, Win," Fred goaded her sweetly, only to ruin it with, "you've done way more illegal stuff than this!"

"So it _is_ illegal," she exclaimed, pointing a finger at his face.

"Only slightly," said George as brightly as he could manage.

"Besides, don't pretend the illegal part scares you," snorted Fred blithely.

"Azkaban is a little different to Muggle juvie, Fred," she mumbled back, still rubbing her temples against the headache beginning to build there. "I think it's fair to say the stakes are a little higher."

"Come _on_, Win," he pleaded. "Don't you want to make him pay?"

"Of course I do!"

The twins didn't reply, staring back at her imploringly, begging her to agree, so sure there was no other way. She quite liked the idea of cornering him alone and beating him to a bloody pulp, but it lacked a certain finesse that the twins were so well known for. Also, Dumbledore was able to forgive a lot – especially considering her unique _talent_ – but sending another kid to St Mungo's might be too much for even him to cover up.

"Fine," she sighed, pleasantly coerced, as usual. "But you forget one thing," she added, "he doesn't exactly trust me either. How am I meant to get close enough?"

"That's easy," the twins grinned at her widely, like it was glaringly obvious and she was dull for not seeing it instantly, "you'll use your feminine wiles!"

There was a lengthy pause in which Winona stared at them stonily, trying to figure out if they were taking the piss. "My _feminine wiles_?" she repeated slowly, making sure she'd heard them correctly.

"Yes!" they grinned like this was the most brilliant, sure-fire plan they'd ever devised.

Glancing down at herself in her lumpy, shapeless jumper and frumpy, paint-stained jeans, she looked back up, oozing incredulity. "I look like a homeless person," she said with a matter-of-fact huff.

"That's a bit harsh," Fred frowned.

"Don't you have a dress or something you can slip into?" George asked hopefully.

"_Slip into_?" she repeated in disbelief. Had everybody lost their bloody _minds_?

"Look, just smile at him," Fred said quickly, before her glare could fully form. "Trust me, one look at your smile and he'll be reduced to a puddle of goo," he assured her fervently. Both Winona and George turned to look at him dubiously.

"What?" she asked, bewildered by the strange compliment – because it _was_ a compliment, wasn't it?

"Say something witty," he continued quickly, like nothing had happened, "you're good at that – tell him you like his hair, or something, then run your hand up his arm."

"That's really going to work?" she asked doubtfully, pushing Fred's odd behaviour from her mind, focusing on the task ahead.

"We're betting on him being thick as a brick wall, and randy to boot."

"Fair enough," she nodded, knowing enough about boys to know this to be true. "Okay," she said with great importance, standing straighter and reaching up to run her hands down her hair, making sure there were no tufts sticking out to make her look any more ridiculous than she already did. "Give it," she ordered, holding out a hand for the fake wand.

George dug in his pocket, producing the fake wand and placing it in her hand. It was cool to the touch, and felt awfully plastic-y for her tastes. She wasn't convinced this would work, but the twins had never not delivered on a revenge prank before, so she was inclined to trust them.

Fred whipped the the Marauder's Map out from his pocket, unfolding it and murmuring the magic words, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," before ink appeared across its surface like raindrops falling from nowhere.

"There he is," George said a minute later, thrusting a finger at the dot with the hovering words _Draco Malfoy_ written above it. "Charms corridor."

"Stay out of sight until it's done," she instructed them sternly, already beginning to lead the way towards the slimy little git's location.

"As soon as you've switched the wands, get out of there," Fred warned her.

"That's my plan," she assured him, and they fell into silence as they turned the corner, the twins stepping back so they wouldn't be seen.

Malfoy was standing in front of a small, terrified looking Hufflepuff, a sneer on his pointed face.

"What are you going to do?" Goyle, who was standing just behind the Slytherin Prince along with Crabbe, goaded loudly, like this was the most clever thing he'd ever said in his life. "Are you going to _cry_?"

The Hufflepuff was trembling so hard she seemed to vibrate, and Winona felt terrible that she had to pretend not to care.

"What's going on here?" she asked loud enough for the Hufflepuff and the three Slytherins to hear, and they all turned to look at her as one. "My, my, Malfoy," she tutted, her expression relaxing into something mirroring coy mischief. "What _have_ I stumbled upon?"

Malfoy sneered viciously, but she was careful to remain unimpressed. "Nothing to see here, Andrews," he told her, chest puffed out as though to make himself more intimidating. It only reminded her of a try-hard Percy, and she bit her lip to cover a smile.

She paid no attention to the ruffled goons behind him, who each gripped their wands. Hers was in her pocket and she was more than confident that she could take on two thick-headed, second-year Slytherins if it came down to it. Meandering closer to Malfoy, she smiled at him like Fred had suggested. He was rightfully bewildered by the unexpected expression.

"You know, Malfoy," she began, getting closer but remaining unthreatening. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have no idea how to react, shifting awkwardly behind their idiotic leader, exchanging looks of confusion. "I always _did_ like the way you just...took charge," she said in a low tone, and the twins were right about him being as thick as a brick, because a glint of smug pride appeared in his cold, steel coloured eyes. She was close now, and she reached out, running a hand up his robe-covered arm. His eyes widened, and he didn't seem to know how to react.

His pocket was right by her hand, and she stepped closer still, trying not to inhale his scent – he smelled of some kind of cologne, but badly, like he'd dumped the entire bottle onto his skin in an effort to mask the stench of death that clung to him and his awful personality.

He stared at her with wide eyes that she might almost call panicked, and he was so distracted by the bewildering interaction that he didn't even notice her slipping her hand into his pocket, grabbing his wand and gently withdrawing it, slipping the fake one inside before stepping back with another too-wide smile.

"Oi, Malfoy!" the twins were suddenly there, glaring furiously at Malfoy, their own wands out in front of them threateningly. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?!"

"What?" Malfoy didn't look angry, he just looked bewildered, unable to keep up with what was happening around him. If Winona was a better person, she might have even pitied him. But she wasn't, and she didn't.

"We saw you all over our girl, here!" Fred shouted, aiming a Leek Jinx at Goyle. Winona leapt out of the way, looking back in time to see leeks sprout from the smarmy git's too-large ears.

Letting out a yelp, Malfoy reached into his pocket, yanking out the fake wand, in too much of a panic to notice it wasn't his proper one, and yelling a hex in the twins' direction.

Only, instead of either of them growing antlers, as the caster had intended, the wand backfired, much like Ron's had the few days before on the Quidditch Pitch. Malfoy let out a cry, dropping the wand and lifting his hands, which were now covered in large, red, bulbous boils that were spreading along his arms and across his neck, creeping up over his freakishly pale face.

Crabbe let out a stream of expletives, lifting his own wand to fire a hex at the twins, which they blocked with laughable ease, sending back a Sardine Hex that had the tiny little fish flying from the Slytherin's nose like bullets.

"What did you do?!" Malfoy shouted, staring down at his hands in horror.

"Taught you a lesson, I'd say," George said casually, nodding at Winona, who quickly produced the Slytherin's wand, quietly placing it on the ground before she could be caught holding it.

"You ever use that kind of foul language against one of our friends again, and you'll get worse than a face full of boils," Fred warned, and Malfoy let out a sound that sounded more like a squeal than a roar.

"Time to go," Winona told the twins, stepping closer and beginning to push them away from the scene of the crime, hearing the faint sound of voices echoing down the corridor over. "You might want to get that looked at, you pus-faced prick," she added, and Malfoy let out another yell of outrage before she pushed the twins around the corner, forcing him out of sight, leaving them with satisfied grins stretched across their faces.

* * *

"This Potions homework is ridiculous," Fred was complaining as they wound their way up from the dungeons. The rest of their class chattered around them, everyone eagerly heading towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Revision of the Sleeping Draught? Talk about condescending – we've had this mastered since second year!"

"Big talk from someone who failed that exam," George sniped cheekily. Fred groaned, giving his brother a shove before they both broke out in sniggers. "Need help going over the revision?" George asked Winona, who was walking beside them, head in the clouds as they bickered.

"Nah," she responded, snapping back to the moment. "I can handle an essay on its properties…hopefully."

"Well, just ask – we all know…"

George's voice faded away, replaced by a sort of rushing sound, like the rapid surging of water. Winona felt her feet come to a stop, and she held her breath, somewhere in her mind believing that if she opened her mouth it would be flooded by the running water seeming to streak past her face too quickly to comprehend.

Vaguely, she could hear the voices of reality around her, and in a flash of conscious horror realised what was happening, and exactly where she was and the amount of people she was surrounded by.

In her last conscious effort, she threw out her arms, hoping to grasp onto one of the twins and anchor her to the real world. Then, she was swept away by the river.

Images flashed across her eyes, so quickly they made her head ache. A pair of hissing fangs, glistening with drops of ivory venom; the silvery glint of a sword, a ruby stone set into the hilt; red letters, smeared across a wall, written in blood. It said something, something _important_, something _bad, _but she couldn't make it out. The sound of the water got louder, and if she'd been able to feel her arms, she would have raised her hands up to cover her ears against the roar.

She was jolted from the horrific future and back to the present with a startling gasp, dropping the hard instruments clasped in a white-knuckled grip, reaching a hand up to her chest as she painfully sucked in air, feeling like she hadn't taken a good breath in days.

Her eyesight came back in blotches and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the two bodies knelt in front of her.

Fred and George were staring at her in worry, their mouths moving but no sound coming out, and as she wheezed desperately, she took in where they were. The twins had stuffed her into an abandoned classroom, desks stacked up against one wall, the stone floor dusty and cold.

"Win," Fred was saying when her hearing finally came back to her, the sound of rushing water slowly receding, leaving her ears stinging when met with the crushing silence of the empty classroom. "Win, talk to us," he said, one hand gently braced on her knee, squeezing in a comforting pressure.

"I'm all right," she assured them, sucking in another breath, the air seeming to burn at her starved lungs. "I'm all right," she repeated, trying to convince herself.

"That was a bad one," George said with a forced grin, attempting to keep things lighthearted. Fred just continued to frown at her, overflowing with concern.

"We got you out of sight," Fred promised her, deciphering her look of alarm as she considered that people might have witnessed such an event. "You nearly started scratching at the floor, but we got a pencil in your hand just in time," he added with something of a weak chuckle that didn't reach his eyes.

Turning her attention to the things she had dropped into her lap, she gingerly picked up her sketchbook, blinking tiredly down at the image hastily scribbled onto the paper in silvery graphite.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

It was the words, the ones that she had seen written in blood. During the vision she hadn't been able to read it, but apparently her hands never got the message and wrote it down anyway.

She'd never written words before, it had always been pictures; though she supposed this was a little of both, as underneath the thick letters was the ornate detailing of one of Hogwarts' many corridors.

"What does that even _mean_?" George had tilted his head to the left in an effort to read the words sketched messily onto the paper, frowning down at them in confusion. Fred had finally let go of her knee, that pensive, concerned expression never leaving his face as he continued to watch her like a hawk, as though worried she were about to keel over, headfirst into the floor.

"I don't know," she answered him, her voice hoarse. She lifted a hand to rub gently at her sore throat. "But I think I need to go and see Dumbledore," she said, feeling her head spin like she'd just gotten off a terrible carnival ride. "Right now."

The twins stood, Fred offering out a hand that she gratefully took. He pulled her gently to her feet and she wobbled only slightly, her legs weak from the force of the vision.

"Come on," Fred said, and George knelt down to swipe up her belongings, slipping them back into her messenger bag and threading it over his shoulder. Fred wound his arm through hers, gently urging her from the classroom, keeping her propped against him like he didn't trust her to walk on her own. They'd missed lunch, judging by the time, but the twins didn't once complain.

Winona wanted to voice her gratitude and assure them they didn't need to walk her to the Headmaster's office, but she knew they'd only tell her off for being stupid, so kept her lips sealed.

She caught the twins exchanging looks over her head, communicating silently as they did. She didn't care to try and decipher the message, instead leaning tiredly against Fred and allowing them to lead her through the castle.

"Want us to come up with you?" they offered when they came to a stop outside the large, looming gargoyle that protected the entrance to the lavish office the Headmaster resided in.

"No," she told them quickly, knowing Dumbledore would rather it just be her – he never had liked the fact that the twins knew of her ability. "Go down to the kitchens. I'll meet you there when I'm done," she said, using what little strength she had to shoo them in the direction of the stairs that would lead to the elf-filled kitchens of the castle. "Ask the Elves to leave me out a plate of pie," she added. The twins smiled at her predictable request.

"You're okay?" Fred checked before he left, and she nodded. "Positive?"

"Positive," she confirmed as cheerfully as she was able, and although he didn't look terribly convinced, he still nodded. George handed over her messenger bag and the pair turned to leave. "Boys?" she spoke up, and they turned back to look at her. "Thank you," she said with the utmost sincerity. They smiled at her, giving cheeky little salutes and heading back down the corridor.

With a deep inhale, Winona turned to the intimidating gargoyle, who seemed to glare down at her intently.

"Ice Mice," she said, grimacing at the thought of the disgusting excuse for candy that Dumbledore had chosen as his password, and a moment later the gargoyle had leapt out of the way, exposing a circular, moving staircase which she hopped onto with practised ease.

The doors to Dumbledore's office stood tall and grandiose, and she'd only just lifted a still-trembling hand to knock when the Headmaster's voice drifted out from inside. "Enter."

Tentatively pushing the doors open, Winona slipped inside. It was warmer inside the office, a fire blazing in the fireplace against the far wall, and she realised she hadn't noticed how cold she was until she felt the heat of its flames.

"Good afternoon, Miss Andrews," Dumbledore greeted her pleasantly from where he was standing by one of his many towering bookshelves, a thick tome held in aged hands. He shut it abruptly, slipping it back into place on the shelf near his head and turning to her with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a…rather alarming sketch to show you, sir," she told him without preamble, one hand clutching tightly to the strap of her bag, watching as interest ignited in the old warlock's eyes before he nodded calmly, sweeping out a hand in the direction of his comfortable looking chairs on the closer side of his large, golden desk.

The Headmaster took his seat on the other side, hands folded in front of him as he waited patiently for her to explain. Swallowing, Winona reached into her satchel, pulling out her thick sketchbook. It was still open to the recently used page, and with a deep breath she handed it over to Dumbledore whose expression went from pleasantly curious to frighteningly dark.

"When did you draw this?" he asked, voice cool and calculated.

"Just now," she replied nervously. "Professor, what does it mean?" she asked, unable to stand not knowing. "I've never written down words before," she added quietly, casting his familiar, the brilliantly red phoenix, Fawkes, a glance. He was asleep, head cocked as he dozed.

"I'm not sure," the Headmaster said, but she knew deep in her gut that this wasn't the truth. Feeling unable to argue, she could only nod like a good little student, turning her stare to her hands. "I think, instead of merely copying this particular sketch, I will take the original – if that's alright with you," he informed her calmly; she got the distinct impression that he wasn't_ asking_.

"Yes, sir," she replied, without choice.

"Do you have any idea of when this will come to pass?" he asked casually, gently tearing out the page with the sketch and shutting her book, handing it back with a nod.

"None, Professor," she answered him honestly. She rarely knew when her visions would happen, and that was sometimes the most frustrating part.

"I must ask you not to tell anyone of what you have seen, Winona."

Confused, Winona looked up. These were already her standing orders, why would anything have changed? Though bewildered by the stern command, she nodded her head respectfully, agreeing. The twins already knew, but there was nothing that could be done about that now.

In this moment her stomach rumbled. Dumbledore looked at her with smiling eyes over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "You should head down to the kitchens and get yourself a bite to eat," he suggested, and panicking, Winona shook her head.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir," she said as innocently as she could. Students weren't _technically _allowed in the kitchens, but should she have really been surprised that he knew she was a frequent visitor of them?

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes twinkled down at her, "of course you don't," he replied airily, and she nodded in vaguely amused agreement, standing to her feet and turning to leave the room. She paused by the door, casting a look back at her enigmatic Headmaster.

He was smiling no longer, staring down at her glimpse into the future with a furrowed brow and a grim expression. Her insides suddenly felt strangely like ice.

The twins were in the kitchens, just as they'd said they'd be, and she made a beeline to them, having to dodge the little elves scurrying around like their backsides were on fire. Her friends were sat at a table by the fire, mugs of steaming hot chocolate in their hands as they murmured between themselves, the serious expressions from before now gone, replaced by easy, familiar smiles.

"Winnie!" they called as she approached, and Fred pushed a third mug of hot chocolate across the polished wood table. "How'd it go with good old Albus?" Fred asked without pausing, taking a sip of his drink, leaving a small moustache of foam sitting on his upper lip.

She met George's eyes and both silently agreed not to mention it. "It was strange," she replied, taking a delicate sip of her own, humming at the pleasant warmth that trickled through her insides. "I've never seen him so sombre about a sketch before."

_Not even when I drew his own cold, lifeless corpse, _she added in her head, knowing that was just about the only thing that she wouldn't tell the twins. That was Dumbledore's business, she didn't want to overstep by sharing it. Then again, she wasn't the expert on the etiquette surrounding premonitions of one's death, so she couldn't be certain.

"Did he say anything about what it meant?" George questioned eagerly.

"Nothing," she said with a sigh of disappointment just as Killy appeared beside them, a tray full of steaming apple pie balanced on her bony little hand.

Fred and George greeted the House Elf with cheers, and she smiled bashfully before handing over the treat and some forks to eat it with. "Thank you, Killy," Winona said gratefully. The elf gave something of a grin before squeaking her happiness and scurrying off to tend to the dwindling fire.

"Can't be that bad, surely," Fred said optimistically, his milk moustache still in place, making Winona grin into her mug. "Maybe it's a prank. Some wannabe who aspires to reach our level of infamy?"

"And a bad prank at that," George grimaced around a mouthful of pie. "Probably a Hufflepuff."

Winona tutted, reaching out to slap him on the arm. Laughing loudly, he flinched away from her just as Fred caught sight of his reflection in his spoon and indignantly began to yell at them for not telling him about the milk on his face. This only sent the others into fits of further hysteria, and it gave Winona hope.

Yeah, bad things were going to happen – she was going to keep having violent visions of awful things, and these terrible things were going to eventually come to pass. But she also knew, above all else, that the twins would always be there to help her laugh the darkness away. And maybe, if she was very, very lucky, it wouldn't swallow her whole.

* * *

"Check out what we scored!" Fred's voice interrupted her humming and she looked up from her rough sketch of the castle, seeing him standing over her, holding a bright orange lizard in a firm grip, a grin sitting comfortably on his face as the little thing struggled in his hand.

It was the beginning of October, a week or two after the whole 'fake-wand' incident. Malfoy had taken to glowering at them any time they were in the same room, but other than that, they had yet to see any consequences for their actions. Just how they liked it.

Winona liked to think this was karma – Malfoy _had_ deserved what he got and more, after all.

It was also that long since Winona's less than pleasant vision regarding the message written in blood. She hadn't spoken to Dumbledore since giving him the sketch, and whenever she saw him – which wasn't often, maybe twice a week at mealtimes – nothing appeared to be amiss. So she kept her worries to herself, knowing that confronting him for more information probably wouldn't end well for her in the long run.

"A lizard?" she asked Fred, coming back to the present when she felt the weight of his expectant stare.

"A salamander," he corrected, and George appeared over his shoulder, an eager look in his light blue eyes.

"_Rescued_ it from Care of Magical Creatures," he added with an impish grin.

"Bloody heroes, you two are," she murmured sarcastically, but it was like water off a duck's back for all the good it did. They beamed as though she'd paid them a sincere compliment. "Go on, then," she prompted with the sigh of an overworked carer, gently setting aside her sketching instruments and turning her full attention to them. "What's it for?"

"Thought we'd stuff this Filibuster down its throat, see what happens," Fred told her heedlessly, twisting the thing in his grip so he could get a better look at it.

"Won't that hurt it?"

"Nah," George assured her. "It's a fire-dweller, so the heat won't do anything."

Knowing nothing she could say was going to stop them anyway, she rolled her eyes, kind of curious about where this was going to go. "Alright then," she said with a huff, but nevertheless leaned forwards, watching idly as Fred fed the small firework to the slightly larger lizard, the thing gobbling it down like it were an insect it found delicious.

A small group of third years wandered over, drawn in by the now gently smouldering salamander. Murmurs ran throughout the tiny crowd as they watched, part curious, part terrified, unable to look away from the simmering creature displayed on the table in the corner of the room.

"What'd you feed it?" asked a girl with freckled skin and a rather unfortunate bowl-cut.

"A Filibuster," the twins told her, and she paled as she glanced back down at the poor thing.

Suddenly, the salamander whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The twins erupted into shouts of glee and the younger girls in the common room gave shrieks of undeserved terror. A group of sixth years descending the stairs abruptly turned and made their way back up them, probably deciding it wasn't worth the trouble once they'd heard Percy's outcry of indignation.

Winona was able to easily tune him out – she'd had a lot of practise over the years – and instead focused on the tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, the thing wiggling wildly before finally dropping to the rug with a muted thud.

Scrambling away before anybody could get their hands on it again, it escaped into the fire with another loud explosion of sparks, but Winona was pleased to see it remained mostly unharmed, although probably more than a little bit irked.

Percy had yet to finish yelling, screeching himself hoarse, threatening to go to McGonagall if they didn't 'pull themselves into line'. The twins only rolled their eyes, taking no notice and bending their heads to discuss their next order of business.

October passed in a blur. Every now and then, Adam would search her out and they'd walk through the school. He would talk most of the time, Winona got the feeling he really liked having someone to speak to about the schoolwork and his friends in Ravenclaw he was having issues with. She let him yammer, unbothered by his talking. He had a nice voice, and she usually drifted off when he spoke anyway, committing the things she saw to memory to try and recreate on paper later.

As it grew closer to Halloween, their walks became more frequent, and Winona slowly began to realised just how _much_ he was talking. She wondered if it was meant to be this way – relationships and the like. She didn't exactly have anything to compare it to.

They were on their way to the Halloween feast when she realised maybe something about their time together wasn't quite right.

"What did you usually do for Halloween, back at home?" Adam asked her as they slowly made their way towards the Great Hall. The entrance hall was overflowing with people, the students bottlenecked in their excitement to get to the feast. "Before you came to Hogwarts, I mean?"

He'd just finished telling her of his family's long standing tradition of a chocolate treasure hunt, and Winona had listened, humming at all the appropriate moments. He seemed to become suddenly self-aware, realising he'd been jabbering on without giving her a chance to respond. She distantly wished that might happen more often.

"Oh, nothing, really," she shrugged. "None of the foster parents I've had in the past particularly cared for the holiday."

Adam fell silent, and when she looked over at him it was to find him blinking in surprise. "You live with foster parents?" he finally asked, confused.

Now she was the one surprised. "Well, yeah," she frowned deeply, wondering why this had come as a shock – surely he knew her family situation. They had to have spoken about it at some point. Right? "After my parents died, I didn't have any family left to take me in, so I was put in the Muggle foster system."

Adam was still frowning. "Your parents died?"

Winona didn't know what to say for a moment, staring at him wordlessly. They'd made it to the doors of the Great Hall but had come to a stop just inside, forcing the other students to walk around them. "Yeah," she said again, bewildered by the whole conversation. "They were killed by Death Eaters in the War."

He didn't seem to know how he was supposed to respond, but Winona certainly couldn't help, even more lost than he was. How could they have been hanging out every other day for a month and he not know these things about her? Had he really been talking so much she hadn't once been able to tell him the basic details of her life?

Adam seemed to suddenly be wondering the same thing. With his cheeks a soft pink, he awkwardly said, "sorry to hear that."

Winona blinked. "Thanks," she muttered, just as uncomfortable. "Well, I'm gonna go eat…" she said, gesturing to the Gryffindor table where her friends were already seated, laughing over something or other.

"Yeah, me too," he told her, stilted.

Winona pursed her lips. "See you," she said, turning and melting into the crowd, heading for her friends.

"There you are!" Fred crowed as she slid into the spot beside him. George looked up from the chicken wing he'd charmed to dance across his plate. "Where've you been all afternoon?" Fred asked, suspicious.

"Nowhere," she said, distracted as she used the large serving spoon to dish herself out some shepherd's pie.

"She was with _Adam,_" Lee singsonged across from her. "Get some good snogging in?" he asked playfully.

Winona barely heard him, staring down at her food, lost in thought. "Win?" asked George. "Did you spill pumpkin juice on your sketchbook again?"

When she didn't answer, Fred nudged her gently in the ribs. She looked up, blinking in surprise. "Oh, um, no," she said stiltedly. "Just didn't get much sleep is all."

She forced a yawn that seemed to convince them, and they all turned back to whatever they'd been doing before she arrived.

The feast seemed to go a lot slower than usual, with Winona stuck inside her own head, wondering what exactly she'd gotten herself into with Adam. Her friends tried to pull her out of her funk, but she was stubbornly unaffected, and eventually they just left her to sulk.

"Come on," Fred prompted her as Dumbledore gave his final remarks and the feast wound to an end. Winona yawned again, this time for real, as she climbed off the bench and allowed the twins to lead her from the Gryffindor table and towards the doors of the Great Hall. "Try not to stay up all night drawing again, yeah?" he laughed, hooking an arm around her neck and dragging her playfully along.

"Don't tell me how to live my life," she muttered back, and Fred gave a bark of laughter in return.

They turned back to the walkway, only to very nearly run straight into the back of another student. "What's the holdup?" George called ahead, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard over the chattering of the large crowd gathered in the hallway for no apparent reason.

Like a tingle of electricity, Winona knew, she just _knew_ what was happening.

Without waiting for her friends, she spied a gap in the throng of students and ducked through it, ruthlessly shoving her way to the front. "Win!" Fred called after her, but she ignored him, single-minded in her task.

When she finally laid eyes on what was bottlenecking the students, she'd almost wished she hadn't. Then again, she was beginning to learn the future was very unavoidable indeed. There, on the wall, written in glinting, bloody letters, read the words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

And that wasn't even the worst part; the worst part was Harry, standing right beneath a frozen Mrs Norris, a look of panicked horror stretched across his boyish features, shoulders slumped with the weight of the accusing eyes of the whole school staring down at him.

Winona shut her eyes and cussed.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!"

Draco Malfoy's words echoed in the starkly silent hallway as he read off the wall. Every single student in the corridor seemed to be holding their breath.

"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" the Slytherin added with a disdainful drawl, casting a withering glare at Hermione who very nearly flinched at the sight of his cold eyes.

"What's going on here?" an even _more _unwelcome voice sneered, and the grunting of students met her ears as they were roughly pushed out of the way by a chronically-rude Filch. He shoved past Winona with a snarl, and she winced as he stepped out into the middle of the group, where the blood writing and his dead cat lay in perfect view. "What's going on?" he growled, beady little eyes scanning the crowd for an explanation.

Although nobody answered – nobody even so much as breathed – he found the body of his cat anyway, his narrowed eyes going wide in pure, unadulterated horror.

"My cat! My cat!" he wailed, whirling around for an explanation, fat tears gathering in his lizard-like eyes. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked, demanding an answer. "You!" he screeched at Harry, just as Winona knew he would. "_You_! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll —"

"Argus!" a calm but commanding voice swept over the crowd, interrupting the glorified janitor's wild death threats.

Dumbledore glided onto the scene, a small army of teachers following close behind. Calmly, the Headmaster reached for the frozen cat, unhooking her from the torch bracket and turning to go.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore without feeling, turning to go. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

This left Professors Flitwick and Sprout standing in the overflowing corridor, looking momentarily out of their depth, before finding their feet and calling as calmly as they could, "everyone is to return to their common rooms at once!"

Finally the students' silence broke, the hallway filling with gossipy whispers. Flitwick began ushering people from the scene, his tiny stature struggling to gain some of the taller students' attention.

Winona could only stare at the blood smeared wall, her mouth dry as her mind raced. Had there been something she could have done to save Mrs Norris? Sure, the feral little thing was a pest, but she hadn't deserved to _die_.

Fingers threaded through hers and she knew from the familiar calloused warmth that it belonged to Fred. He didn't say anything, probably knowing there was nothing he _could _say. Instead he merely began to drag her in the other direction, taking the longer route to Gryffindor Tower.

Winona clung to her best friend like he were the only thing keeping her afloat – that was how it felt, anyway – like she were lost at sea and he was her life raft.

She clutched both her hands around his one, reassured by the gentle pressure as they wound their way through the thick but slowly dispersing crowd. It wasn't until they were halfway to the common room that she realised George was there too, on her other side, standing guard, as though whomever it was to have written that message might come after her next.

She appreciated the protective gesture, but she knew, deep in her gut, that she wasn't the one in danger.

If only she could figure out who _was._

"Listen, we wrote to Charlie the other week," Fred began once they were safely inside their common room, huddled in the far corner around a deep red armchair, a small pile of chocolate frogs from Winona's private stash sat before them.

"That's nice," Winona said distractedly, halfheartedly nibbling on the end of a frog, staring off out the window, feeling as though her body was there with them, but her mind was a million miles away.

"Listen," George said imploringly, reaching up to give her shoulder a tiny shake, snapping her from her daze. She blinked at them in foggily. "We wrote to him about the Chamber of Secrets," he murmured, keeping his voice low so nobody nearby would overhear.

Interest piqued, Winona turned to look at the pair, watching as Fred tugged a crumpled piece of parchment free from his pocket. "We got a reply this morning," he told her quietly.

"What's it say?" she asked, eager. She was expecting them to paraphrase for her, but instead Fred simply held out the letter, gesturing for her to take it and read it herself.

_Fred and George,_

_Yeah, it's going well – been thinking I..._

Winona skipped the pleasantries and smalltalk, scanning the letter for the good stuff.

_Chamber of Secrets, huh? Can't believe that rumour is still going round! I'm sure any of the older kids or more gullible teachers would be happy to tell you, but I'll give you the basics._

_Legend said Salazar Slytherin built a Chamber deep within the school, and that only his true heir would be able to get inside. It was said there was a monster hidden within, and the heir would be able to control this monster to 'cleanse' the school of those not born with 'pure-blood'._

_I know, ridiculous, right? But it is a good story to use when you want to scare the kids. Oh, and don't you _dare_ go looking for it! I know what you're like, and you'll only get yourselves into trouble. Granted, it's probably not real, but if there _is _a giant monster hidden in Hogwarts, I doubt it wants to be poked with a stick by two idiots like yourselves._

_Tell Winona I said hi, and remind her that you're both still more trouble than you're worth!_

_Give my love to Percy, Ron and Ginny (I hear she got into Gryffindor! Give her a hug for me)_

_-Charlie._

Winona put down the letter, the crease in her brow so deep that it was giving her a headache. "A monster?" she said, stormy grey eyes shifting from one twin to the other. "In a secret chamber, hidden deep within the castle, that can be used to kill muggle-borns and half-bloods?"

The twins didn't look thrilled either.

"Brilliant," she muttered sardonically, handing the letter back to Fred and slumping into the squishy cushions of the armchair they were all piled on, returning her attention to her half-eaten chocolate frog.

"I mean, it's probably not real," George said realistically.

"Don't try and tell me you two _don't_ want it to be real," she glared at them, daring them to lie. She knew them far too well to be fooled by that.

"Well, obviously we don't want the '_killing anyone who isn't pure-blooded'_ thing to be real," Fred said defensively. "But you've gotta admit, a secret chamber, created by one of the founders, _inside_ the castle? It doesn't get any cooler than that!"

Winona was too exhausted to argue, rolling her eyes at their childish excitement and continuing to nibble on her stash of hoarded chocolate.

"Have you heard what they're saying?!"

Neville had appeared in front of them, a strange look on his face, the expression torn between shock and terror.

"You'll have to be more specific," George replied.

"They're saying Harry's the rightful heir of Salazar Slytherin!" Neville squeaked, mortified, like he couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a dorm with Slytherin's murderous heir.

"Don't listen to them, Neville," Winona told him sternly. "You're better than that." The kid didn't look so convinced. "Look me in the eye and tell me you believe Harry's the evil descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Tell me you think he's capable of murder."

Neville suddenly looked ashamed for having caved to the gossip.

"Good lad," she nodded, propping a hand on each twin's knee and pushing herself from where she was squished in between them. She reaching out, slapping Neville gently on the back. The kid only grimaced, looking uncomfortable under the attention. Showing mercy, she turned back to the twins, scooping up two thirds of her chocolate pile.

"Hey!" they cried, indignant. "We weren't done with those."

"Get your own," she said, and the pair huffed, affronted. "You could both do to lay off the sweets, you know!" she added over her shoulder as she turned to head for the girls' staircase. "Don't want Wood finding out and making you run laps to burn them off!"

The twins let out spluttered cries of indignation from behind her while Neville just looked completely bewildered by the strange encounter. Winona tossed him a playful wink as she passed, making a beeline for the stairs, the shower and her favourite pyjamas calling to her.

The night wasn't as relaxing as she'd hoped; she was kept awake by the sinking feeling that something just _wasn't_ _right._

Now that she knew there to – _supposedly_ – be a giant monster hiding within the school, it seemed like every noise she heard was connected to this faceless, ominous creature. Around midnight she lit her wand and started sketching until finally her exhaustion won out and she fell asleep, slumped over her sketchbook, her pencil held in a white-knuckled grip that only eased once she was lost in a deep slumber.

The next day, Winona was wandering from the library where she'd been studying with Angelina and Alicia, both of whom had given up trying to get her to pay attention and, to put it nicely, 'asked' her to leave.

This happened a few times every semester, so much so that it was almost tradition. Winona didn't mind much, heading away from the library's corridor and making her way towards the Great Hall where dinner would be starting in a half hour. She could sketch until the food appeared, and the thought made her feel peaceful.

That was until her path was suddenly blocked by a red-eyed Ginny, the littlest Weasley staring up at her wetly. "Ginny?" Winona asked in surprise, tensing as she whirled around, looking for the source of the girl's tears. "What's wrong?"

If it was Malfoy and his lackeys, they'd be getting worse than a face full of boils and leeks from their ears, that was for certain.

"Can we talk?" Ginny murmured, voice quiet and unsure. The sound of it pulled Winona from her defensive rage, turning to look at Ginny closely, noting the hesitance in her expression.

"Of course, Ginger," Winona said affectionately, getting the sense that the small redhead was in need of all the affection she could offer. Winona slipped an arm around the younger girl's shoulder, gently prodding her in the direction of the courtyard, which was surprisingly empty for the time of day.

Ginny came to a stop by a bench near the fountain, and Winona sat down, dropping her bag of standard art supplies to the ground with a thud. She was curious, wanting to ask what was wrong, but she knew she couldn't push. She had to let Ginny come to her.

"Do you think Ron and H-Harry are going to get expelled?" she finally asked, voice smaller than Winona had ever heard it.

"I _know_ they're not," she replied instantly, pulling her legs up onto the stone bench and folding them beneath her.

Ginny's red eyes narrowed. "How can you _know_?" she asked, doubtful.

"Maybe I can see the future," she said slyly, and Ginny shot her a disgruntled look, telling her to 'please be serious'. She smirked, finding it ironic how easy it was to be honest and still not have a single person believe you. "_Or_," she said, shuffling closer to the redhead so she could nudge her lightly, "maybe I know Dumbledore is a smart wizard, who knowsneitherHarry, Ron, nor Hermione could have done such a thing. He'd be crazy to expel them; they've done nothing wrong."

Ginny was silent for a long while. "Who do you think _did _do it?" she asked almost silently, like she was almost too afraid to ask the question aloud.

Winona considered the young first year carefully, taking in her sallow, waxy complexion and scared, tired eyes.

"I don't know," she finally answered her, getting the strangest feeling that Ginny _knew something._ But what that something was, she couldn't have guessed. "Are you okay, Ginny?" Winona asked the youngest Weasley gently, lighthearted smile falling into something more serious, concern lacing the expression.

There seemed to be several emotions warring on the girl's young, pretty face, the indecision bleeding out.

"You can tell me anything, you know," she reminded the young girl, reaching out to press a comforting hand to her shoulder. "_Anything_, and it'll never get back to your brothers."

Ginny snorted, just for a second seeming like usual self. "Not even Fred?" she asked skeptically, and while Winona wasn't sure why she'd singled out Fred alone, she still shook her head.

"If it's something you don't want anyone to know, it will _never_ leave this bench," she swore, and the smaller girl looked immensely grateful. She opened her mouth, prepared to say something, only to cut herself off suddenly, returning her gaze to her hands, something like frustration on her face. "It's alright," Winona assured her quietly as a group of seventh years ambled passed them, laughing at some lewd joke the tallest had made about Professor Flitwick and a pineapple that shan't be repeated. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she reminded her once the rowdy bunch were gone. "I'll always be here, and so will your brothers."

Ginny attempted a smile, but she couldn't quite pull it off.

"Wanna walk to dinner with me?" Winona asked cheerfully, slapping her hands against her legs before climbing to her feet. "If we see Malfoy we can Bat-Bogey Hex him until he cries."

"What's a Bat-Bogey Hex?" Ginny asked curiously. Winona grinned back impishly.

"I've a feeling you're gonna like this one, Ginger..."

* * *

**A/N: So I've had a few questions about Winona and her decision making in recent chapters. Winona, although mature in some ways, is wildly _immature_ in others. She grew up without any examples of healthy relationships in her life, without any other women to guide her, or get advice from.**

**She's approaching romance like someone who knows what it's _supposed_ to look like, so she thinks she's doing it right. I love her, but unfortunately, Winona is emotionally damaged. That's not to say she can't grow and heal – which she will – she just has a whole _lot_ of growing to do.**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	15. You're into hufflepuffs?

"How're you feeling?" Winona asked the twins curiously, looking up from her sketch of a werewolf to peer at them, noting that they were frowning anxiously at the fire, a very uncharacteristic expression for the usually-carefree twins to have adopted. "Nervous about the match?" she asked, tapping the tip of her pencil against the plush red lounge and eyeing them, wondering if she should borrow the Map and nick some Sleeping Draught from Snape's stores – they didn't look like sleep would come easy for them tonight, and Merlin knew they needed it.

"Nervous about what Wood'll do to us if we lose," Fred snorted, slouching back into the lounge and pushing the sleeves of his sweater up his arms.

"Can you believe this DADA homework?" George asked suddenly, and Winona could tell that what they needed more than anything was a distraction. "_'Write a poem about my achievements'_," he said, imitating Lockhart's self-important voice. "What kind of assignment is _that_?"

"He's a complete tool," Winona agreed, twisting in her seat to throw her legs over the armrest, turning half of her focus back to her sketching, the other half on the conversation. Multitasking always was one of her more useful skills.

"_I'm so handsome, the Wailing Banshee fell silent when she saw me!_" Fred joined in with a piercing falsetto, mocking Lockhart's ridiculous lessons, where he did nothing but recount the tales from his books, sometimes even going so far as to act them out. Nobody was a winner on those days.

"_I'm so famous,_" George continued blithely, "_I'll give signed copies of my book to anyone who can tell me exactly how brilliant I am!_"

From across the half-empty common room, Dean and Seamus from Ron's year gave snorts of laughter. There was the loud snap of a book being angrily shut, and then a tiny, puffy haired Hermione was stalking over to them, disapproval painted over her dainty features.

"What can we do for you, Granger?" George asked, collapsing back into the couch and grinning up at her carelessly.

"I don't think you should be mocking Professor Lockhart like that," she said, jaw clenched tight like they were insulting _her _by insulting _him._

"I think you _should_," Fred argued with a barking laugh. "The bloke's a joke, even you have to admit."

"I think he's _brilliant_," she declared stubbornly.

"Look out, sounds like someone has a little crush on Lockhart!" George bellowed for everyone to hear, and the second year flushed pink at the attention, ducking her head meekly. Winona rolled her eyes, focusing on her sketch, wanting no part in whatever was happening before her.

"I do not!" Hermione insisted. "He's my teacher!"

"I know," Fred gasped dramatically. "How scandalous."

Hermione began to flush a darker red, though whether from fury or embarrassment, Winona couldn't tell. "Don't be such pricks," she said, breaking her own rule about not getting involved. "Leave the girl alone, you doxies." The twins turned to scrunch their faces at her while Hermione frowned, probably not condoning the foul language. "Need I remind you of Professor Wilton?" she asked, an evil sort of grin stretching across her face.

The twins groaned, throwing their heads back and burying their faces in the couch cushions with the utmost theatrics.

"Who's Professor Wilton?" Hermione asked, quiet and confused.

"The Defence teacher before Quirrell," Winona revealed with a wicked smirk. "She was gorgeous, and had these two lumps completely and utterly bewitched."

Hermione giggled, finding this amusing. The twins, never ones to get embarrassed, took this in stride. "And she will forever be _the one that got away_!" Fred announced with desperate sorrow, holding a hand over his heart in feigned emotion.

"My one true love!" George added dramatically, letting out a terrible wail.

"And on that note," Winona rolled her eyes, picking up her things, shouldering her bag and standing to her feet, "I'm off to bed." She turned to the twins, who were howling like heartbroken werewolves on the floor at their feet. "Go get some sleep," she instructed the pair, who sniffled pathetically before climbing back onto the couch. "Don't wanna fall asleep during the game. Wood'll have a fit."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," they murmured with great exasperation. Winona knew they weren't going to listen, until Wood looked up at the sound of his name, narrowing his eyes at the twins and pointing sternly towards the dorms, the threat silent yet present. With heaving sighs, the pair of them grumbled as they climbed to their feet, slouching in the direction of the stairs, only to break out in childish sniggers as one of them uttered an obscenity under their breath.

Before Winona knew it, the night had faded and the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was upon them. None of the team could be found at breakfast, but Winona knew Wood probably had them down on the field already, giving them an endless warm-up speech on plays and tactics he'd been drumming into them since the start of term.

"Go on then, Trelawney Junior," Lee cackled cheekily when he met her halfway down to the field, rushing to keep up with her long, determined steps. "Who's going to win?"

"Go fuck yourself with a rake, Jordan," she replied testily, unable to help herself, and her friend sobered.

"They'll be okay, Winnie," he assured her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her to him affectionately. "You're not usually this anxious before a match," he added, pulling away when she only continued to frown. "Know something I don't?"

"I've just got this feeling..." she trailed off, knowing Lee was the person least likely to believe her. He'd consider her concerned words the desperate mutterings of a wannabe Seer, and nothing more. As much as she loved and adored him, Lee was a skeptic at heart. "Don't worry," she shrugged, trying to play it off as she crossed her arms over her chest. It was growing colder with every passing day, and she was wrapped in an old jumper, a Gryffindor scarf knotted tightly around her neck, fighting off the chill.

She'd woken up that morning with this sinking feeling in her stomach, the kind that only appeared when something was going to go horribly wrong. Usually the feeling meant there was maiming and/or pain to follow.

As she and Lee were wandering onto the field, she caught sight of the team disappearing into the locker rooms. "I'll see you after the game?" Winona asked him hurriedly.

"'Course," he agreed, turning to head towards the teachers' box.

"Good luck commentating," she added with a distracted smirk. "Try to stay on topic."

Lee snorted indignantly, but she was too busy rushing over towards the twins to bother laying it on any thicker. She hurried towards the doors to the locker room's, shouting out Fred's name and making both twins turn to look at her with raised, expectant eyebrows.

"All right?" George asked, broom balanced over his shoulders.

"You look about ready to lay an egg," Fred added jovially.

"I've got a bad feeling," she murmured back, stepping closer so the few stragglers wouldn't overhear.

"Is it a 'you're going to lose the match' kind of feeling?" he asked slowly.

"Or a 'somebody's going to die' kind of feeling?" George finished carefully.

"If I knew _exactly_ what was going to happen, I would have led with the specifics," she told them grouchily, and they held up their hands in surrender. "Just, please be careful?" she begged, slouching tiredly, the looming feeling of panic clinging to her skin.

"You haven't drawn anything?"

"Nothing," she replied, an unmistakeable note of defeat to her voice. "Keep your eyes on the girls," she added, thinking quickly of Angelina, Alicia and Katie. If anything happened to any of them, she'd be a wreck.

"It is _sort of _in the job description," George reminded her of their position as Beaters.

"And watch Harry," she said, thinking of the younger boy who seemed to spend more time in the Hospital Wing than the rest of the school combined (excluding _maybe_ the twins).

"Don't be such a worry-witch," Fred laughed, reaching forwards to nudge her gently in the direction of the stands. "Everyone'll be fine!"

She didn't get a chance to argue, as Wood poked his head out and shouted for them to get their hides inside. The twins waved their hands in acknowledgement, then turned to Winona expectantly. She sighed but still went through with their little ritual anyway, smacking a kiss onto each twin's cheek for luck.

With a final shared, reassuring grin, the pair disappeared into the locker rooms, quick as they could.

Winona headed for the stands that were rapidly filling with people. The only one of her friends not on the team was Hope (and Ron and Hermione, but they barely counted; and Ginny was nowhere in sight). She settled down next to the slimmer girl, who was scanning the Hufflepuff stands intently.

"Who're you looking for?" Winona asked, eager to get her mind off the foreboding weight sitting uncomfortably at her chest.

Hope flinched, apparently not having noticed her friend arrive. She pressed a hand over her heart and made an expression that somebody less perceptive might have mistaken as innocent.

"Nobody," she answered when it became clear the blonde girl wasn't going to let her get away with not responding.

"Come on, Hope," she said, goading her just a little bit. "Who was it? Was it a boy?"

"No_,_" she denied vehemently.

"A girl?"

"_No!_" this time it was hissed, a blush spreading across her face, and Winona got the message loud and clear. She'd been kidding, but seeing the truth of it now, she blinked in surprise, a smile blooming on her lips.

"It is?!" she asked, excited. "Who is it? Marie Darling? Or is it Belinda Brownfield? There's Amber Jones in sixth year, but you're _way _out of her league..."

"For Merlin's sake, _shut up_!" Hope hissed, and Winona only smile, falling silent and waiting – however impatiently – for her to continue. Cheeks flooding with pink, Hope ducked her head and tucked a stray lock of straight brown hair behind her ear. "It's Christine Watkins, _okay_?" she snapped irritably, only making her turn a darker red.

"The tall brunette in fifth," Winona nodded, leaning around a group of rowdy Gryffindors to get a peek at the girl in question, who was laughing at something another student had said. "I can see it," she said kindly, and Hope only ducked her head, a shy smile playing at her lips. Hope was usually so serious and stern. Seeing her blushing and sky, it made Winona want to laugh, if only for how out of place it seemed. "What's she like?" she asked eagerly.

"She's top of her class in Transfiguration," Hope gushed happily, keeping her voice down so nobody would overhear. "And she helped me pick up my things when Flint and his lackeys emptied my bag in the corridor."

Winona grinned, liking this girl already.

"You won't – you won't _tell_ anyone...will you?" Hope suddenly sounded unsure and frightened.

"You don't want anyone to know you're into..." Winona trailed off, and Hope looked down at her feet, "Hufflepuffs?" she finished. Hope was so startled that she glanced back up, gaping at her friend, mouth like a koi fish. Winona grinned cheekily, shooting her a wink and turning to the pitch just as the crowd began to roar, the Gryffindor team making their way out onto the field.

Twenty minutes into the game, and it was obvious that something was desperately wrong. Winona wasn't sure who to watch at first; Alicia, Katie and Angelina were being hammered by the Slytherins, but they were holding their own. The twins, however, were hovering exclusively around Harry, and it didn't take Winona long to figure out why.

One of the bludgers had been cursed or something, tailing Harry like he were some kind of magnet. Holding her breath when it started to rain, Winona could do no more than watch as Wood called a time out, the teams floating to the ground.

It was hard to see through the pouring rain, so she couldn't be sure what was happening, all she knew was that only a short two minutes had passed before the team where up in the sky again, play having resumed.

Concern eating at her gut, she could do no more than watch with bated breath as the game played on, Slytherin winning points thanks to their stupid, unfair, bribery brooms. Harry began an impressive yet ridiculous bout of airborne acrobatics, twirling around on his broom in a desperate attempt to keep the spelled Bludger from hitting him. The twins had given up on protecting him, focusing their efforts on the girls instead, and she was sure this was on Wood's maniacal orders.

With every spin, Winona felt her insides wind tighter and tighter, a sort of looming terror gripping her. She wasn't scared for the girls, nor for the twins, now she knew Harry was the one her feeling of premonition was about.

It was hard to keep track through the thickening downpour, but sometime later she caught sight of Harry catapulting towards the ground in a way that was by no means intentional. Crying out, Winona leapt from the bench in time to see him crash hard into the muddy earth.

"_Gryffindor wins the match_!" Lee's exulted voice was echoing around the pitch, but Winona could have cared less. She tore off, out of the stands and tripping her way down the rickety staircase held up by strength of will and magic alone.

The ground was thick and muddy, making it exceedingly hard to run towards an unmoving Harry, who laid unconscious and hopefully not dead in the middle of the field. By the time she reached him, Lockhart was already hovering over him, and the Boy-Who-Lived (still alive!) groggily came to.

"Oh, no, not you," he was moaning, and Winona resisted the urge to shove the pathetic excuse for a professor out of her way.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart to the crowd of anxious Gryffindors pressing around them, trying to get a good look at their Seeker. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"_No_!" insisted Harry shrilly. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..."

He was struggling to sit up, and Winona turned to her left where an excited Colin was eagerly taking photographs of Harry's misfortune, the clicking sound loud enough to be heard over the rain and chatter of the crowd.

"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," Harry said loudly, unmistakeable pain stretched across his boyish features.

"Lie back, Harry," Lockhart was crooning, and Winona grit her teeth at the sound. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times —"

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry growled, voice low with pain as he gingerly held his crooked arm to the side.

"He should really, Professor," said Wood, leaning over the boy too, though he looked far less worried and more thrilled at Gryffindor's win. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say —"

"Where're the twins?" Winona interrupted him, and Harry shot her a thankful look. Wood gestured behind him to where Fred and George were wrestling the rouge Bludger into the box with tremendous difficulty. Convinced they were unharmed, Winona turned her attention back to a wincing Harry.

"Stand back," said Lockhart to the crowd theatrically, reminding her of a Muggle magician about to perform a stupid, unimpressive trick.

"No — don't —" cried Harry weakly, but Lockhart pointed his ornate wand at Harry before Winona could think of a way to stop him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe he'd heal him and it would all be alright?

However, all hope vanished as Harry's arm seemed to deflate in front of her eyes, collapsing in on itself like someone had let go of the hole in a balloon. A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd, and Ron gave a groan of disgust from where he was standing by Harry's head.

"Ah," said Lockhart slowly, blinking down at the disaster he'd created. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken," he said, as though he'd done the boy a favour. "That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."

Hermione and Ron helped Harry to his feet, the Boy-Who-Lived looking green as he glanced down at his now-boneless arm. Winona considered following them, but decided they had it covered and instead glared furiously at Lockhart who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed.

Spinning around, Winona pushed indelicately through the crowd, heading for the twins, who had finally wrestled the Bludger into its straps, faces turned to the rain as they grinned, pleased to have won the match.

"You're not gonna believe this," she said in lieu of a greeting, and they turned to look at her with teasing irritation.

"'Glad to see you safe and sound, boys'," Fred drawled sarcastically.

"'Yeah, congratulations on winning the match, you two'," George added, the amused curve of their lips giving them away.

"Do you want me to tell you how Lockhart vanished all the bones in Harry's arm, or not?" she asked, irked but somehow at the same time, amused. That was the twins for you, she supposed; they made you wanna tear out your hair and laugh hysterically at the same time.

"He what?" they asked as one, leaning around her to get a look at Harry, only to see nothing but a crowd of dispersing students, Lockhart in the centre, rambling to anyone who would listen about what a favour he'd just done for Harry Potter.

"Tried to mend the break, ended up leaving him looking like an empty glove," she told them with a snigger. She was worried, of course, but she also knew Madam Pomfrey would have Harry sorted out in no time – not to mention, the whole situation was, objectively, really quite hilarious.

"Bloody hell!"

"Bloke's a menace!"

"I have a feeling our favourite Seeker could use with some cheering up," she said, derailing their oncoming rant about Lockhart's outstanding ineptitude. "One of you go round up the team, the other and I will go nick a nice hoard from the kitchens."

The two nodded, exchanging a short glance before George threw his broom over his shoulders and set off in the direction of the locker rooms.

"Oi!" she yelled before he could get too far, stepping back to smile at them both. "Congratulations on winning, you two."

They shot her blinding grins, giving humble bows before each turned back to their assigned task. "Come on, poppet," Fred nudged her gently, turning towards the castle. "We've got some kitchens to ransack."

They hurried up to the castle, Winona considering casting an umbrella charm above their heads, only to decide against it – she was too tired to focus on maintaining it.

"Who do you think cursed the Bludger?" she asked him as they moved through the halls of the castle, taking care not to run into Filch who would surely put them in detention for dripping mud all over the stone floors.

"The Slytherins, obviously," Fred replied, ringing out the end of his scarlet Quidditch robes, something she knew would make Filch lose his marbles if he witnessed it. "Must have been some kind of sabotage attempt. It failed, though!" he added gleefully, reaching up to tickle the pear on the painting leading into the kitchens.

The portrait pulled away, revealing the bustling House Elves filling the massive kitchen. The ones closest to them gave squeaks of delight at the sight of them, rushing forwards, talking over one another, each wanting to be the one to fetch them what they wanted.

A familiar elf pushed her way to the front, large black eyes watering as she squeaked eagerly. "Hello, Killy," Winona greeted her, watching as she trembled with pure joy. "We'd like some bottles of pumpkin juice, a nice stash of Cauldron Cakes, and all the sweets you can spare!" she declared, and every Elf in hearing range scurried, more than keen to please their frequent visitors. "If it was a sabotage attempt, why don't you go to a teacher?" she asked Fred once they were alone, leaning up against the wall and running a hand through her thick, damp hair. "McGonagall will listen, she's almost as much of a fanatic at Wood is."

"What makes you so sure?" Fred asked.

Winona laughed indelicately. "She caught Harry flying without permission in _first year_ and instead of punishing him, she _put him on the team_," she laughed some more.

"Ah, good old Minnie," Fred sighed.

"Don't let her hear you call her that."

"You're right, she'd let Filch hang me by my thumbs," he joked, and the pair laughed. Just then, the legion of Elves rushed back to them, small arms laden with baskets full of treats. "Thanks Killy!" he said gratefully, and before that moment, Winona hadn't known that House Elves could blush.

She took the baskets that Fred wasn't able to carry, hefting them in her hands and shooting Killy a smile before slipping back out into the corridor. The portrait door closed behind them, leaving the pair of friends in an empty, too-quiet hallway.

"I hope Harry's okay," Winona began conversationally, shifting to get a better grip on her basket and letting Fred lead her up through the castle, in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Pomfrey'll give him some Skele-Gro, and he'll be good as new," Fred assured her. Winona wasn't totally sure what _Skele-Gro_ was, but she assumed it was self-explanatory and moved on.

"Can you believe Lockhart?" she asked. "Could he be _any_ more of a tool?"

"I'm _so_ glad you're not falling all over him like the other witches in our year," he admitted, relief splashed over his face. "If you were fooled by him too, I'm not sure I could bear it."

"He's handsome, sure," she allowed. "But as brilliant and drool-worthy as everyone acts like he is? _Please_."

Fred paused. "You think he's handsome?"

"I have eyes, don't I?"

"Is he as handsome as..._Adam?_" he asked in a teasing singsong voice that made her flush.

"You don't wanna know what I think about that," she tried to roll her eyes and appear nonchalant.

"No, I really do," he insisted. "Go on, who's more handsome? Lockhart or Adam?"

"Adam," she replied without flinching. She may have been warm in the cheeks, but let it never be said that she was too shy to meet a Weasley's challenge. She grinned at her shoes. She liked that she could talk about anything with Fred – even something as mortifying as _boys._

"You really like him, huh?" Fred asked softly, and she realised he'd misread her grin. Still, it stood, so she nodded. "Because he's handsome?"

She rolled her eyes. "Surely you don't think I'm that shallow."

"Why d'you like him, then?" he pressed stubbornly. "He's a _Ravenclaw_," he reminded her, and she cocked a single eyebrow, wondering exactly what he was implying. "What I mean is that he's…" he hurried to elaborate, "…academically orientated."

She bristled. "And I'm not?"

"No, no, no," he hurried to assured her, then winced as he reconsidered. "Well, I mean, yeah, actually."

He looked worried she was going to yell at him, but instead she just laughed. He sagged with relief. "Ever heard that opposites attract?" she said, nudging him with her elbow. She was finally starting to dry off, and was feeling warm from all the walking they'd been doing.

She didn't want to think about how Adam was somehow interested in her without seeming to know a single thing about her, or how every conversation they'd ever had had pretty much just been him yammering on about himself while she listened patiently, admiring his good looks.

Maybe she really _was_ that shallow. Or maybe she just liked the feeling of being liked. Was that, in and of itself, shallow?

"What about you?" she asked Fred as they took the main staircase up towards the Hospital Wing.

"What about me?"

"Who do _you_ like?" she pressed. Fred seemed surprised by the question, then thoughtful.

"I think Emma Holt, the brunette in third year, is kinda cute," he admitted without worry, and she hummed in agreement. "Sometimes I see her playing Exploding Snap in the common room with Katie and the others."

"I don't know her that well," Winona said with a shrug that pulled hard at her shoulder muscles, weighed down by the heavy baskets she was gripping. She wished she remembered the Feather-light Charm they'd learnt the year before. The twins sometimes said she wouldn't remember the days of the week if she hadn't colour-coded them in her mind.

She really needed to start studying more.

"I can put in a good word, though," she finished.

Fred's eyebrow hiked up in surprise. "I thought you didn't know her well."

"I don't," she shrugged. "But I'm a girl, so I have an automatic in." Fred looked amused, shaking his head and decidedly no responding. "You should ask her to Hogsmeade," she told him.

"What, so I can double-date with you and Adam?" he asked teasingly, and her cheeks grew warm.

"Who's double-dating with Winnie and Adam?" George's voice asked, and they turned to see him heading straight for them with the rest of the team in tow. They were all still wet and muddy from the match, but they looked to be in good spirits. Thankfully they were all chattering excitedly, so nobody overheard what George had said.

"Tell you later," Fred promised, shooting his brother a meaningful look before watching as Angelina surged forwards, pushing open the hospital wing doors. George swiped the heavy basket from Winona's cramping hands, and she shot him a grateful smile.

The team piled in with a roaring cheer, all staggering towards a surprised Harry, who sat wearing hospital pyjamas on a bed, with Hermione and Ron on either side of him. Winona took a moment to breathe before entering the Wing. She managed to sit beside Harry for ages at the end of last year, and besides, she had all her closest friends with her. There was nothing – nothing at _all_ – to fear.

"We've brought treats!" she announced with a grin as they approached, huddling around the bed and smearing mud onto the pristine white sheets. Nobody cared.

The twins hefted the baskets of cakes and pumpkin juice onto the bed, Alicia and Angelina reaching in and beginning to dish out their prizes.

"Unbelievable flying, Harry," George was saying excitedly. "I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."

Wood stepped forwards to shake Harry's hand, only to grimace when he realised that wasn't possible at the moment. He bounced back, clapping the younger boy proudly on the shoulder. "You did great, Harry," he told him gratefully. "Now, for the next match, we need to work on-"

The team booed him, the twins throwing little handfuls of crumbs in his direction. Winona laughed, the sound obvious over the lighthearted hisses of the team. "We've only just won, Wood," Angelina reminded him. "Take five minutes to bask in it before you go back into Obsessive Captain-Mode."

Wood looked like this sounded terribly hard to do, but with a sigh he nodded, and the gathered group cheered, getting louder as Fred reached into the other basket and withdrew just enough bottles of pumpkin juice to go round.

"Seriously though, Harry," George began, leaning forwards as he spoke. "Sacrificing all the bones in your arm to win us the match? I like the dedication."

Harry rolled his eyes and Winona laughed, swiping up some of the Salt Water Taffy from the pile of sweets and munching happily on a piece as she listened to the group laugh and joke.

Unfortunately, they were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's sharp voice only a few short minutes later as she barked, "this boy needs _rest_, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!"

With reluctant muttering, the team stood, shooting Harry murmurs of gratefulness before the school's nurse shooed them from the room. "I just need to speak with him for one moment, then I'll leave," Winona assured her, and though she looked skeptical, Harry was agreeing strongly from behind her, and the aging witch gave up with a huff. "See you in the common room!" she called to her friends, who waved before the doors were shut in their faces.

Winona turned to Harry, who now sat alone on his bed, looking rightly miserable, one arm resting limply at his side like a deflated novelty balloon.

"All right?" she asked quietly, casting a look over at the nurse, who was on the far side of the room at a cabinet full of colourful potions, half buried inside as she searched for something or other.

"I'll live," he murmured, picking up his half-eaten Cauldron Cake and nibbling on the end. "Are _you _all right?" he asked, frowning at her from behind his glasses.

She didn't bother answering that question. Was she all right? Of course she was. She wasn't the one in a hospital bed. "I just wanted to apologise," she told him quickly, wanting to get it all out before Madam Pomfrey kicked her out of the room.

Harry blinked in surprise. "What for?"

"Well, for not stopping this from happening," she said simply, but Harry's frown only deepened, so she hurried to explain. "If I'd seen this happening, if I'd drawn this earlier, maybe I could have done something-"

"Winnie, you can't control your visions," he told her patiently. "I know that. I don't blame you."

"But you're sitting here without any bones in your arm-"

"And it isn't your fault."

Winona sighed, reaching out and picking up more taffy, chewing on it for a moment. "What's the point in even having these visions if I can't stop bad things from happening?" she asked, not sure if she was talking to Harry or herself at this point.

"One day, your visions will help someone," he told her. She wasn't convinced. "Otherwise, why would you have them?" he reasoned.

She supposed he had a point, but she wasn't sure she was ready to listen to it. She was too busy chastising herself for not paying more attention. "Come on, Miss Andrews. Time to leave," Pomfrey appeared at Harry's beside, shooing the fourth year away as though she were an unwanted animal – which was actually kind of offensive.

"Get better, Harry," Winona told him gently, shooting him a final smile before turning and leaving the hospital wing, eager to get out anyway – she'd been there long enough as it was.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was quiet, but she enjoyed it, breathing deeply and letting herself relax, almost completely dry. Still, her shoes were gluggy and her pants caked with mud, so she was more than eager to get changed into something clean.

There was a party happening in the common room when she walked in, and though Lee called out to her from where he sat by the fire, she merely gave a halfhearted wave before winding her way across the room to the stairs.

Changing into her favourite pyjama pants and her one of her many Weasley sweaters, she sighed at the sounds of the party happening below her. She supposed she could make an appearance, and she _was _quite hungry...

But before she could move towards the doorway and head downstairs, a wave of sensation crashed over her, the feeling like ice water unexpectedly hitting her skin, soaking through to her insides.

She knew she didn't have long, and gasped, spinning around and diving into her trunk, fishing out an old scrap of parchment and a simple pencil before she was dragged under the water, losing all feeling to her body.

Eyes, that was all she could see. Massive, large, horrible, glowing eyes. They bounced around her consciousness, and she knew they weren't human, but that of something awful. She saw a flash, a brief blink of white light, then everything froze. Her insides, her lungs, the blood in her veins, the very pump of her heart, it all came to an abrupt halt and she couldn't move at all.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. She blinked, the rushing tide retreating from her strained body, leaving her warm once again.

Almost too scared to look, Winona glanced down at the parchment in front of her. It was done in extreme detail, and had to have taken at least over a half hour to achieve. She could only hope nobody came into the dormitory while she was under…

But it was what was on the parchment that was so shocking.

Colin Creevey lay on the ground, frozen stiff, his camera clutched in a too-tight grip. Winona gasped, nausea rolling through her. She had to find Dumbledore – she had a feeling, a terrible, horrible feeling, that this wasn't in the distant future. She knew, somehow in the way that she always seemed to know, that it was happening right in that very moment.

She bolted, no shoes on her feet and her hair tossed messily atop her head. The common room was still a hive of activity when she tumbled down the stairs, but she made eye contact with no one, rushing through the room and all but tripping towards the portrait hole, the detailed future-sketch clutched tightly in her hand, crinkling the parchment with her grip.

She heard exuberant shouts of her name, but she had no time to stop and acknowledge them, barrelling towards the exit in a panic.

Almost there, and she was caught around the middle, jerked to a stop, Fred's face looking down at her seriously. "What is it?" he asked, sensing trouble without needing words.

"I've got to go find Dumbledore," she said instead of answering. "You need to _stay_ _here_!" she ordered him. The thought of either twin out and about in the corridors was a terrifying one.

"Is it bad?" George had appeared by his shoulder, worry creasing his brow.

She took a beat to collect herself before deciding lying wasn't an option. "Yes," she answered, brutally honest, before wriggling out of Fred's grip and racing to the portrait hole. Nobody tried to stop her this time, for which she was thankful.

The corridors of the castle were eerily quiet; the silence was just about deafening, but she couldn't even force herself to hum to fill the void. The sky outside was dark now, the thick blanket of clouds covering even the moon, leaving no light spilling through the windows.

She realised two minutes in that she hadn't thought this through. She had no idea where Dumbledore even was. What if he wasn't in his office? Who else was she meant to fetch? Did any of the other teachers know about her, and if not, was it safe to tell them? Would they even _believe_ her?

Thank Merlin, she didn't have to find out, because just when she came to a stop in front of Dumbledore's office gargoyle, it sprang aside before she'd even uttered the password and the Headmaster himself was descending the stairs.

"Miss Andrews," he said, tone urgent but unsurprised, like he'd been expecting her.

She sucked in a deep breath and handed over the crumpled parchment, silent as he scanned what was sketched there with intense eyes. The stone floor absolutely freezing under her bare feet, and she realised how cold she was, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm.

"Miss Andrews, please return to Gryffindor Tower at once," Dumbledore told her with stark politeness, turning and beginning to stride away from her, his deep purple robes dragging along the floor after him. "Tell no one of this," he called over his shoulder, her sketch still held in his hands.

_Unacceptable_, she thought to herself with a flare of courage, spinning around and marching after him. "Professor," she said, finding that he could move surprisingly fast for someone so old, picking up her pace to match his. "What does this mean?" she asked, but Dumbledore didn't acknowledge her. "Is he dead?"

"I don't believe so," he said stonily, usually-twinkling eyes now dark and stony, focused ahead, no secretive twitch of his lips. He was almost scary like this, and she suddenly knew exactly why he was one of the most feared and respected wizards in all of Britain.

"He was petrified, then? Like Mrs Norris?" she asked, jumping to the next possible conclusion.

She thought he might ask how she knew such a thing was possible, but he probably knew she'd heard from Harry, Ron and Hermione, because he didn't so much as falter a step in his march through the school.

"It's the monster, isn't it?" she said, keeping her voice low even though there was nobody around to hear. Maybe she thought the walls might have been listening, or rather, something _within_ the walls. "What kind of creature can petrify people like this?" she asked, but Dumbledore gave her no response. Her detailed sketch was still clasped tightly in his hand, the crinkle of parchment matching with his long strides. "The sketch kind of looks like it's happened on the stairs leading to the kitchens," she told him, the silence too heavy for her to handle. "I recognise the portrait in the background."

"Yes," the Headmaster responded, voice cold, the single word more of an order to cease talking than anything else. She noticed he had his wand held in his hand, arm raised in front of him like he was expecting to come across a threat.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

She wasn't sure she was meant to keep tagging along, but she was desperate to find out what the hell was going on. Just before they rounded the corner to the stairs leading down to the kitchens, Dumbledore came to an abrupt stop, forcing her to pause as well.

"Please return to your common room, Miss Andrews," he said it calmly but seriously, a glint to his blue eyes that warned her not to argue. "And tell no one of this," he repeated himself from before, but now he wasn't distracted, now he was stern and unyielding, telling her that she really didn't have a choice.

She wanted to be stubborn, to put her foot down and insist she had a right to know, but the icy glint to the headmaster's eyes made her wilt. Did she have a right? Just because she saw these things, did that give her permission to go acting like she was better than the rest of the students in the school?

Feeling strangely chastised by her own train of thought, Winona turned to leave.

"And Winona?" the Headmaster called out, the fourth year turning back around to peer at him wearily. She was, as always, surprised by his use of her given name – the rarity of it letting her know what he was about to say was beyond serious. "Come find me if you see anything else. Anything else _at all_."

"Yes, Sir," she nodded obediently, watching as he disappeared around the corner, wand still held out protectively.

However, she'd come too far to simply accept that as the end, and with silent footsteps, Winona shuffled towards the corner, leaning around it and laying eyes on what laid before her.

Just like in her vision, Colin Creevey lay stiff as a statue on the stairs, camera clutched in frozen hands. It wasn't any easy sight to behold, and she felt almost guilty for feeling as though she was entitled to a look. Why would seeing it in the flesh make it any easier? Now all she felt was ill.

The thought of the monster that had done this, loose in the school, made her want to curl up under her covers until the sun once more broke out over the horizon, saturating them in the false security offered by the light of day.

The common room was calm by the time she got back, the party having finally died down. She could see some seventh years in the corner taking shots of firewhisky, but they weren't causing any trouble, and Winona couldn't have cared less. She wasn't a prefect, and judging by her grades, she probably never would be.

Hermione and Ron were sitting by the window, Hermione elbows deep in an essay while Ron talked to her, the girl nodding along every few minutes to show she was listening. She considered going over to them, letting them know what she'd seen, but that idea was wiped from her mind the moment the twins called out to her from where they were perched on the couch by the fire, waving their hands above their heads obnoxiously, as though it were possible for her to overlook them in the nearly deserted room.

"Well?" Fred asked expectantly as she took a seat in the empty space between them.

"There's been an attack," she revealed, and their eyes went wide at the news. "You can't tell anyone," she added, keeping her voice low, "but Colin Creevey has just been petrified."

"Petrified?" they repeated, bewildered and unsettled.

"By whatever did in Filch's cat," she confirmed, though it hardly needed to be said. What else could it have possibly been?

"Did you _see_ it happen?" George whispered meaningfully, and, feeling sick to her stomach, Winona shrugged.

"Sort of?" she whispered. "They're not full visions, just flashes. So I don't really know anything, except, whatever it is? Whatever's doing this? I know it has glowing yellow eyes."

* * *

What with all the evil, murderous creatures and even _more_ evil, psychotic pure-blood fanatics roaming the castle, it hardly seemed like the best time to be prancing around on a date.

"You _can't _cancel," Angelina argued on the morning of the first Hogsmeade visit, looking despairing, like her entire existence hinged on the outcome of this date – and it wasn't even her own. "You just _can't_!"

"I'm sure Adam will understand," Winona reassured her with a hint of awkwardness, not understanding the situation. "It hardly seems right to go sauntering about Hogsmeade like nothing's wrong, while Colin lies petrified in the hospital wing."

"But Colin wouldn't _want_ you to skip this date," Angelina insisted.

Winona bristled. "I don't think Colin particularly cares about the state of my love life."

"Which is why you should just _go_!"

Winona didn't say anything, keeping her eyes on her task.

"You're just nervous and looking for any excuse to get out of it!" Angelina proclaimed a moment later. Winona whirled around to glare at her, indignant and offended and maybe slightly embarrassed, being that it was true. "Come _on, _Winona," Angelina sighed, crouching down to her level. She was folded on the floor, halfheartedly digging in her trunk for her favourite scarf. "I know you like him," she said matter-of-factly, "so what's the problem?"

Winona huffed, closing her eyes as she gathered her Gryffindor courage. "I've never been on a date before," she murmured, keeping her gaze locked onto the pile of clothes gathering in front of her. "I don't even really know what you _do_ on a date," she admitted, frowning as she spoke.

"You talk, you flirt, you _snog_," Angelina singsonged. Winona flushed pink, tossing a pair of rolled up socks over her shoulder, satisfied when her friend yelped at the impact. "Look, would you just _go_?"

"Why do you care so much?"

Angelina sighed rather loudly. "Is it so hard to believe that I just want you to be happy?" she asked, sounding much too tired for her young age.

Skeptical but not in the mood to argue, Winona grunted as she finally produced her scarf, wrapping it around her neck, feeling warmer already. She stood to her feet, and Angelina stood with her, already pushing her out of the room. "Ange," she whined, trying to glue her feet, though it seemed to make little difference.

"Would you just _go_ already?" Alicia shouted exasperatedly from where she was still bundled up in bed.

Humphing, Winona opened her mouth to argue, but with a well timed push she was forced out into the corridor, the door of her dormitory slamming in her face, the lock clicking shut pointedly.

"Just so we're clear, I hate both of you!" Winona yelled through the wood. There was only unbothered laughter from the other side. Just glad she'd already put her shoes on, Winona took a beat to collect herself, sucking in a deep lungful of air to calm herself down.

It was just a date, which was pretty much just hanging out with someone you liked being around. What could be so bad about that?

Thankfully Fred and George were nowhere to be found in the common room, and she happily escaped with nothing but a quick hello to Ginny, before she was slipping from the Tower and heading down towards the front steps where she was meeting Adam.

He was already waiting when she arrived, and he turned to look at her with a smile, the expression lighting up his face. "Hello!" he greeted her cheerfully, ducking in to press his lips to her cheek, making her skin turn a rosy pink. He pulled away, grinning at her before taking her hand and beginning to lead the way down towards Hogsmeade.

It didn't feel that intimate, because both of them were wearing thick gloves, but she found she appreciated the effort.

"What did you have in mind for today?" she asked him, keeping her cool and not showing how nervous she really felt. She always had been good at seeming perfectly fine on the surface, it was one of the main reasons she was the twins' go-to alibi whenever they were (rightly) accused of causing trouble.

"Ever heard of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?"

"I think Alicia went there last year," Winona nodded, recalling it vaguely from memory. "She liked it."

"Do you like tea?" he asked pleasantly.

The snow falling onto her face was making her nose turn numb, so she said, "yes," very eagerly, then looked away in an attempt to not let her hastiness embarrass her.

Adam began to talk, murmuring soft words about the essay he was writing, and how professor Flitwick was giving him special tutoring on advanced Vanishing Charms, since he was so good at them. Winona listened to him talk, enjoying the sound of his voice and the weight of his hand in hers. He led her through the small Wizarding town, smiling pleasantly at all the passing students, continuing to talk.

She found that she didn't mind, happy she didn't have to madly search for something to say as he kept the conversation flowing for both of them. Finally he came to a stop outside a small shop with fogged up glass and too-bright, pink painted windowsills.

If Winona thought the outside was bad, the inside was even worse – everything was decked out in white lace and delicate looking china. It smelled of strong perfume that made Winona's head swim, and it was so completely packed that she had to do an awkward sort of shuffle to wind her way through to one of the empty tables.

"Two teas, please," Adam ordered when a stout woman with shiny black hair pulled into a dangerously high bun who she assumed was Madam Puddifoot appeared beside them, a wide, saccharine smile on her glossy lips. Winona supposed that was the perfect word to describe the place – _saccharine_. "Do you like it?" he asked once they were alone.

"Yes," she said, and although it was a bare-faced lie, Adam didn't seem to notice.

"So, tell me about yourself," he began a moment later, eager hope plastered across his handsome face. Winona supposed he was trying to make up for not knowing about her family, and she quickly tried to think of something interesting to say.

"Er, not much to tell," she replied, smiling up at Madam Puddifoot when she arrived a moment later, delicate china floating in front of her, only to set itself down on the table. With another _saccharine _smile, she shuffled away, heading for another couple on the other side of the room. "It's just me. No siblings," she told him with a lift of her shoulders.

"I've got a sister," Adam told her eagerly, and she was glad he was talking again – it meant she didn't have to. "She's ten years older than me though, she works at the Ministry."

"Oh, doing what?" she asked politely, lifting the heavy, glistening teapot and pouring herself some of the liquid inside. The scent of the tea was sickly-sweet as it drifted up to her nose, and she crinkled it in disgust before taking a sip, uncaring about the temperature, even when it seared her insides on the way down.

At least she wasn't cold anymore.

"She works in Foreign Affairs," he responded, pouring a drink of his own but letting it cool before trying it. "She loves other languages, so she mostly works as a translator."

"That's so interesting," Winona murmured, and she wasn't lying this time. She found other languages fascinating and had always wished she had a knack for them herself. Unfortunately she'd barely mastered English, let alone French or Italian or Danish. "Does she like it?"

"It's good pay," he revealed, then laughed like he'd made a joke. Unsure, Winona forced herself to chuckle along, taking another sip of her scalding hot tea.

He began to talk some more, and though everything he said was interesting, Winona found there was little opportunity to talk about herself. Maybe that was how dates went, the first time you spoke all about one person, then on the next one it switched? That didn't sound right, but she didn't know enough about dating to dispute it.

Before she knew it, her tea was gone and she knew Adam's favourite colour, animal, class, food and what he wanted to do after school ended – yet he knew none of this about her. Still, he was handsome and had yet to stop smiling, and at one point, while he was talking about his holiday in Ireland, he reached over and grasped her hand on the table, holding it tenderly and beaming as he spoke.

"Come on," he said a good hour or two later, glancing down at his watch and noticing the time. "We should be heading back."

Looking over at the clock on the far wall, Winona frowned in confusion. "But it's only two o'clock," she said with a bewildered frown. "We've got ages until curfew."

"Yeah," Adam nodded patiently, "but I wanted to get started on my essay."

"It's Saturday," she reminded him, still confused. Didn't they have all day tomorrow for that?

"Exactly!" he grinned like she'd proved his point. Beyond confused, Winona could only allow him to pull her up, paying quickly before tugging her from the crowded little tea shop. "I'm sure you'll want to get started on your assignments too!"

"Um, yeah," she murmured as they pushed their way out into the snow.

"We can study together, in the library!"

The snow was falling even harder now, and Winona winced as a flake fell into her eye. Adam gripped her hand, pulling her through the fluffy sea of snow towards the castle. She'd been hoping to meet the twins at Zonko's or at least the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. But she saw the look of excitement on Adam's face, and knew she couldn't decline.

"Sounds good," she told him convincingly, wondering how he didn't seem to know about her reputation of being horrendous when it came to all things academia.

The library was much warmer than the weather outside, so Winona was content to fold herself up in one of the chairs off to the side, Adam getting immediately stuck into his work while Winona simply pulled a book off the shelf and started reading. It was quiet, and every now and again Adam would bump his shoes against hers teasingly, then glance up and smile, so although it was mind-numbingly boring, she put up with it, finding happiness in those adorable smiles of his.

She was just skimming a passage about apparition and wondering how she'd been talked into _reading _in the _library, _when she felt a soft touch at her hand. Looking up, she saw Adam grinning at her crookedly.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, reaching up to run a hand through her loose hair, worried it was sticking up and making her look ridiculous.

"You just look really pretty in the sunlight," he told her charmingly, and she realised the clouds had parted to allow a single sliver of light through, the ray of sunshine shooting through the glass of the window and falling over her, making her hair glow like a Patronus Charm and her grey eyes fade into molten silver.

Flustered, Winona smiled and turned her head away, but Adam's hand reached up to her face, cupping it in a hand that was smooth and warm, and turning her head back to him.

It all happened so fast, suddenly he was leaning in, and her mind went completely and utterly silent. As their lips touched she sucked in a breath, pressing into him as she saw in the movies, and copying what he was doing. It was a bit of a fumble, but Adam pulled away and gave her a breathtaking smile like she'd done something right. She realised she'd been holding her breath, and let the air out in a sharp puff.

Adam reached in and pecked her lips gently once more, then returned to his essay with a happy, crooked grin sitting firmly on his plump lips, which Winona now knew to be _just _as soft as they looked. She leant back in her chair, wordless, and they went right back to work, easy.

_Easy is just a synonym for boring,_ a voice in her head whisper, but she ignored it, turning her eyes to her book and pretending everything was perfect.


	16. The evidence is wrong

Winona's visions had seemed to grow in frequency with every passing year, so it was with little surprise that she slipped into a sharp reverie one Saturday morning while lazing in front of the fire. Nobody had noticed, everybody much more interested in their own conversations and getting down to breakfast before all the pancakes were gone.

She came out of it a few minutes later, judging by the time on the clock, and she glanced down at the drawing – whose attached vision had been blessedly less violent than usual – to see Harry, Hermione and Ron sketched hurriedly around a bubbling cauldron.

It hadn't been a long vision, but the detail was just enough so that she could make out a fourth figure floating in the far right corner of the sketch.

Moaning Myrtle.

What the _hell _were Harry, Hermione and Ron doing brewing a potion in_ Moaning Myrtle's bathroom_? Surely there were better places to do something so time-consuming? The answer was obvious, however, and Winona was usually considered bright, if not somewhat undedicated.

They didn't want anyone to know what they were doing.

That just left _when_ this was happening, and while usually she wasn't sure when her visions would come to fruition, she could definitely feel the difference between one that was a long time away, compared to one that was happening moments from when she saw it.

This one happened to be the latter.

Shutting her sketchbook with a huff, Winona stood to her feet and quickly stretched her cramped hands before turning and making a beeline for the portrait hole. "Winnie!" Ginny's voice called over the dull chatter of the rest of the room, and she turned to see an oddly nervous Ginny racing towards her. "Are you walking down to breakfast?" she asked hopefully.

"No, actually," she replied, and Ginny slumped in disappointment. "But I could definitely eat before I get where I need to go," she added, feeling sympathy well within her, and the youngest Weasley perked up. "Don't wanna walk alone?" she asked, but Ginny only shrugged her shoulders as she followed the fourth year out of the portrait hole. "You know, if the legends are true, then you're safe," she said conversationally, aiming for lighthearted. "You're pure-blooded, so the 'monster' isn't going to hurt you," she said, putting quotation marks over the word 'monster' to make it seem like she put no stock in it.

She hoped this would calm the girl down – if an older kid thought it was rubbish, how true could it be, right?

Thing was, Winona knew, without a shred of doubt, that the creature was real. She'd seen it, if only in her visions. And while she didn't generally like to lie to any of the Weasley's (except Percy, but he was a prat and didn't count), she knew this lie was one that was for Ginny's own good.

You didn't tell a kid the monster really _was _under their bed, otherwise they might never sleep again.

However, Ginny didn't seem reassured by this, instead turning an alarming shade of green and holding her hands over her stomach like she was trying to keep from throwing up. "You okay?" Winona asked warily, wondering if a trip to the hospital wing was in order.

"Winona, can I tell you something?" Ginny asked, blurting the words like it was difficult to get them past her lips.

"Of course, Ginger."

Ginny looked even more sick but had stubbornly opened her mouth to speak despite it when suddenly a figure burst out from behind the suit of armour sitting to their right. Ginny reeled back with a shriek, but Winona spun around, her wand already aimed, prepared to defend them.

Only it wasn't a glowing-eyed, fang-mouthed monster that she was met with, but instead a pair of fur-covered twins, holding themselves up as they laughed.

"You idiots!" Winona shouted at them, growing angrier as they giggled like children. "I could have stunned you!" she hissed, eyeing the fur they'd stuck all over their skin, wisely deciding not to question where they'd acquired it. They only continued to snigger like this was the most cunning prank they'd pulled, to date (it _wasn't_).

Ginny was shaking where she stood, rattled beyond words, and Winona slipped closer, pushing her away from the howling twins and further down the corridor. The twins were, ordinarily, quite hilarious – however occasionally their lines got blurred and they went too far; this was one of those occasions.

Ginny was still shaking as Winona led her down the main staircase towards the Great Hall. "You alright?" she asked again, growing concerned. Ginny nodded, but it wasn't particularly convincing. She didn't offer any words, and Winona got the feeling she wanted to pretend everything was fine. "Who d'you wanna sit with?" she questioned cheerfully, sweeping her hands at the bustling Hall like a salesman at an auction.

"My friend, Luna," Ginny said softly, pointing in the direction of the Ravenclaw table where a tiny little, white-haired student sat all by herself at the very end of the table. By happy coincidence, Adam was sitting a few spaces to her left, and Winona led Ginny over to the table, taking a seat beside the blonde girl and tapping her boyfriend on the shoulder.

Adam turned from his conversation, lighting up, pleasantly surprised to see her sitting there. "Hi!" he greeted her, leaning in for a quick kiss that was beginning to grow addicting.

"Hey," she said back softly, pressing closer to him and kissing him again, just because she _could_, before piling up on eggs, bacon and toast.

"Hungry?" Adam asked, slipping an arm around her waist and squeezing. She leant into him, smiling serenely.

"Starved," she replied, shovelling the breakfast into her mouth with little inhibition. She glanced over at Ginny, who was silent while her friend spoke to her in dreamy tones. "Hey," she said once she'd swallowed her mouthful. The blonde girl – hair nearly the same shade as Winona's – looked up and blinked at her owlishly. "I'm Winona," she introduced herself, not holding out a hand, her fingers greasy from the bacon.

"I know all about you," Luna told her breezily, smiling back, utterly tranquil.

And how was she supposed to respond to _that_? "Uh, you're Luna?" Winona asked, at a loss for what else to say.

"I believe I am," the girl's airily light voice said, before smiling vacantly and turning to her breakfast – chocolate chip pancakes.

Sensing that the conversation was over, Winona turned back to Adam, who had resumed his conversation with his friend. She ate quickly, mopping up the grease with a napkin before taking a deep drink of apple juice and reaching up to press a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek.

He turned, bewildered, but she only tossed him a casual smile, spinning around and standing from the Ravenclaw table. "You okay, Ginny?" she asked quickly, not wanting to leave without making sure.

Ginny didn't meet her eyes, but she nodded, and Winona figured that was probably as good as she was going to get, and ruffled her hair before turning and darting from the Great Hall, heading for the first-floor bathroom that she knew the famous 'Golden Trio' to now be occupying.

She slipped inside, making sure her footsteps were loud on the damp ground, so they knew somebody was coming.

There was a series of hissed whispers and gasps, before a door slammed and the trio came into view, their most 'innocent' expressions spread over their little faces. "Winona, what a coincidence," Harry said stiltedly, eyes darting all around the room, desperate for a distraction. Hermione looked like she was about to be sick, and Ron was frowning deeply. "Uh, you like to come here to think, too?"

"Cut the shit, Potter," the words were harsh but they were delivered lightly, an amused smirk sitting on her lips as she peered at them closely. "What potion are you brewing, and why are you brewing it in _Moaning Myrtle's _bathroom?"

There was a wail from the end stall as Myrtle herself heard the question, but nobody paid her any attention.

"I – it's extra credit-" Hermione stammered, downright terrified.

"Give it up, 'Mione," Ron sighed, but he didn't look nearly as frightened as his friends. "She's best friends with _Fred and George_," he reminded her with a snort. "She's not gonna rat us out."

Winona grinned, leaning her weight against the wall and raising her eyebrows expectantly. "I ain't no snitch," she confirmed. Hermione still looking concerned, but less so than before. "But I want in," she said casually. "What's the plan, and why all the secrecy?"

Hermione, Ron and Harry all exchanged glances that communicated a whole lot, having a silent conversation amongst themselves. Finally, Harry stepped forwards, making a decision. "We'll tell you, but you'll have to promise not to tell anyone," he bargained.

"Not even the twins," Ron added firmly.

Considering this, Winona narrowed her eyes. "Listen, I've got a deal with Dumbledore," she began. "Any sketch I do of the future, I take to him. And guess exactly what I sketched this morning? I'll give you a hint: I'm looking at it."

"So you _are _going to rat us out?!" Ron sounded outraged.

She rolled her eyes. "What I'm _saying,_ is that I'm gonna need a hell of a good reason if I'm going to be lying to Dumbledore for you," she told him calmly, and he sagged from his defensive stance.

"We think Malfoy's the heir of Slytherin," Hermione blurted, and Winona's stormy eyes turned to look at her, brow furrowed as she patiently listened. "We've got a plan – we're brewing Polyjuice Potion and we're going to become Slytherins to get Malfoy to confess to everything."

Winona was silent, processing this information. She wasn't sure exactly what she'd been expecting, but she knew that hadn't been it. It wasn't a bad plan, and she knew that _someone _had to get to the bottom of this whole thing, and the teachers sure did seem to be taking their damned sweet time.

"Okay," she agreed, and shock appeared on their little faces.

"You're letting us do it?" Harry asked, and he'd never looked more confused. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Why?" Hermione asked, suspicious.

"Because it's a good plan," she answered honestly, "_and_ because you three got past the teacher's tests guarding the Stone last year – compared to that, this should be a walk in the park." She paused, a wicked smirk appearing on her lips. "And, Ron's right, I _am _Fred and George's best mate," she added cheekily. "I love myself a little mischief."

The trio looked relieved, Harry smiling at her in thanks.

"I'd offer to help with the brew, but I'm afraid I'm rubbish at Potions," she told them. "I'd probably be more of a hindrance than a help."

"It's okay," Ron said quickly. "Hermione's got it under control," he added, casting his friend confident look that made her smile.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it," Winona said, grinning at them once more. "You need anything; alibi, scapegoat, shoulder to cry on if this all goes to shit – you tell me," she ordered them, and they nodded eagerly. She sent them a final grin before turning and leaving the girls' toilets, heading for the common room, eager to get her hands on her acrylics and spend the day lost in her art.

She wasn't sure she expected the trio to take her up on her offer of help, but a week or two later Harry came up to her in the Great Hall. She was sitting at the Gryffindor table, and Adam was perched next to her, casting wary glances at the Professors at the end of the room, nervous that he was going to get told off for sitting with the Gryffindors.

Winona told him not to worry – people did it all the time, but he remained anxious. He really didn't cope well with the possibility of getting into trouble.

"Winona?" Harry's greeting sounded more like a question, and she glanced away from where she was listening to Adam talk about his Herbology quiz. Looking up at the second year student, she noted he looked more than a little awkward.

"What's up, Harry?" she asked as Adam's (rather dull) story came to an abrupt stop. He stared at Harry with wide eyes, and Winona noted his gaze was trained solely on the scar peeking through the boy's hair. Annoyance shot through her, but she didn't feel like she should say anything about it – especially not in front of Harry himself. That would only make him feel more uncomfortable.

"Can we talk?" Harry asked, wincing as Adam only continued to stare.

"'Course," she nodded, pecking her boyfriend on the cheek before standing to her feet. "I'll see you at lunch?" she asked as he stood too, stepping in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. He nodded, and he blew her an obvious kiss, which made her flush as the people around them tittered noisily. She turned, slapping Harry on the back and urging him from the Hall. "What can I do for you?" she asked, glad to be out from under the other students' gazes.

"Remember how you said you'd help us, if we needed it?" Harry began as they came to a stop on the main staircase, the room empty since everyone was in the Hall.

"What can I do?" she asked easily.

"Could you get me one of Fred and George's Filibuster Fireworks?"

"Yes," she said immediately, then frowned, "should I ask why?"

"We need a distraction in Potions," he answered honestly, and Winona lit up.

"I would be _more _than happy to acquire the tools to help you take down Snape," she told him with an impish grin.

"We're just _distracting _him so Hermione can get what we need from his private stores," he corrected her, and she hummed.

"Not quite the mastermind prank I was hoping for, but I'll still do it."

Harry gave something of a smile. "Thanks, Winnie," he said gratefully. She grinned at him, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"I'll have one for you by dinner," she promised just as the bell rang overhead, signalling that they didn't have long until class started. "See you then," she said, shooting him a final grin just as students began to flood the entryway, a wave of noise coming with them.

It was a Tuesday, and first up for Winona was History of Magic with Binns. Content-wise, it was her least favourite class, but she liked it because their ghostly teacher paid them little-to-no attention, meaning she was free to sleep, write notes to friends, and sketch to her heart's content.

And yes, she was failing the class, but it was _History of Magic_, so what did it _really_ matter?

"Hey," she greeted Fred as she slipped into her usual seat beside him, bag of art supplies hitting the floor with a thud.

"Think if I throw a paper plane directly through Binns' head, he'll notice?" Fred asked in lieu of a proper greeting, but Winona was hardly one to care.

"Give you a Sickle if he doesn't," she agreed, and he grinned widely, already beginning to fold a scrap of parchment into a plane. Binns had yet to arrive to class, and the students were still buzzing with chatter, very few bothering to actually pull out their quills to take notes. She made sure George wasn't paying attention, seeing him chatting with Angelina and Lee a few seats over. It would be easier to get this done without both of them there to guilt her into spilling. "If I ask you for a favour, would you do it, no questions asked?" she asked him quietly, keeping her voice light.

"Is this you asking me to join you and Adam in a threesome?" Fred deadpanned, tongue poking from his lips in concentration as he focused on folding the parchment perfectly. "Because, if so, let me just say – I'm flattered," he told her with a mischievous little grin. She was about 90% sure he was kidding, but it still made her cheeks turn red.

"_No_," she hissed in reply, casting a glance at the board where Binns usually entered from. The bell had yet to ring, so he'd yet to arrive. "I need you to give me one of your Filibuster's," she told him plainly. To her pleasant surprise, Fred didn't so much as bat an eyelid.

"Done," he said simply, not even looking up form his task.

Winona blinked. "That's it?" she asked, bewildered.

"'Course," he said jovially, equally as bewildered by her surprise. "Why wouldn't I? You're my best mate," he said it so matter-of-factly that she felt almost ashamed at having doubted him. "Besides, I'm sure I'll hear about what you're going to do with it sooner or later," he added. "Setting off fireworks isn't an easy thing to keep quiet in a castle like this."

Grinning, Winona leaned into his side, pressing her head to his bony shoulder and throwing her arm around him, squeezing tightly. "Thanks Fred," she said sincerely, face smushed into his wrinkled robes, voice muffled by the fabric. "You're the best."

"Feel free to give that to me in writing," he said casually, but as she pulled away she caught a hint of red to his ears that hadn't been there before.

At that moment, the bell above them rang, and Professor Binns materialised through the chalkboard, standing behind his large desk and opening his mouth, beginning his lecture in his usual, boring, monotonous voice.

Halfway through the lesson, Fred pressed something into her lap, and she looked down to see the firework resting on her legs. She glanced over to see him grinning, but said nothing as she inconspicuously slipped the contraband deep into her messenger bag. Then, a paper plane appeared in her line of sight, dipping down towards Binns and flying directly through his head.

The ghost-Professor didn't so much as flinch, continuing to stare blindly as he lectured, and Winona couldn't help but grin as she slid a Sickle across their shared desk, Fred pocketing it with a self-satisfied smirk.

Surprisingly, her biggest obstacle was Adam, who hovered around her during her double free period that afternoon, intending to remain with her until dinner. She tried to shake him by claiming to have 'lady issues', but he just offered to go fetch her some Pepper-Up Potion and a chocolate frog (seriously, how was he so crazily _perfect_? And why was it more annoying than it was charming?), so instead she said she needed to go up to her common room for awhile.

He seemed to understand, but pulled her to him for a large number to kisses before finally letting her go with a smile.

Thankfully Harry was there when she arrived, sitting by the window with Ron, frowning deeply at his Transfiguration textbook.

"Hey, Boy-Wonder," she greeted him, slipping into the empty seat beside him with the utmost innocence. He jumped at her sudden appearance, and she smiled at him brightly. "I've got your merchandise," she told him, and he eyed the room shiftily.

She suddenly felt like she was in an old, black and white gangster movie, and the common room was about to be swarmed by cops in a violent drugs bust.

Thankfully, that didn't happen.

Slipping him the firework, she grinned as he took it, holding it gingerly like he was afraid it would blow up in his face if he squeezed too tightly. "Don't get caught," she warned him, and he shot her a nervous sort of expression that was in no way comforting.

Two days later, Winona heard the story about what happened in the second year Potions class and smirked proudly, sending Harry a thumbs up at dinner, which he warily returned.

* * *

Having a boyfriend was tough work, Winona discovered over the course of the next week.

They wanted to be with you _all the time_. She started to wonder if she'd ever have five minutes to herself ever again. He was sweet though, he even conjured a flower to give to her Friday before dinner, and she blushed as he handed it to her, then kissed him sweetly under some mistletoe in somewhat of a bucket-list motivated move.

Still, she missed long hours she had to herself where she'd find some quiet corner of the castle and lose herself in her art. It had been so long since she'd used paints that the stains had completely faded from her hands for the first time in _years_.

Adam was lovely, he really, really was, but being with him demanded so much of her attention. She had to listen to him talk, then nod at all the right times, then think of something clever and relevant to say back.

It was exhausting, and not at all like she imagined it would be; it wasn't _easy._

Also, spending time with Adam meant she _wasn't _spending time with her friends. There was a new inside joke going around, something about a singing pineapple, that she didn't understand. She'd never imagined it could be so frustrating.

She missed Angelina, Alicia, Lee and Katie – not to mention the twins. She was trailing after Adam one morning, their hands held together as she listened halfheartedly to him talk to his friend – Brody Winchester, a short fifth year with watery eyes and a nasally voice – about the upcoming OWLs, when she was stopped by Fred and George.

"Fancy seeing you here!" they exclaimed loudly, uncaringly cutting off Adam and Brody's conversation. She watched in amusement as Fred very obviously tucked a large, familiar slip of parchment into his pocket; The Map.

"Where're you two off to?" she asked them, taking in their impish grins and their nearly identical blue eyes, gleaming with unmistakable mischief.

"Lee's gathering the troops," George told her cheerfully.

"Combat commences in five minutes," Fred continued, tugging at the pompoms of his orange and red beanie, knitted by his mother the Christmas before.

Excitement spread through Winona's system like the effects of a potion and she perked up, squeezing Adam's hand in enthusiasm.

"What're we talking about?" her boyfriend asked, pleasantly curious.

"It's our _Pre-Christmas, Battle to the Death_," she told him eagerly.

"What?" this only seemed to confuse him more.

"A snowball fight," the twins said slowly, making sure the Ravenclaw could keep up.

"You're coming, right?" she asked excitedly, tugging at his hand and turning to look at him, an eager grin spread across her lips, making the flushed apples of her cheeks even pinker.

"A snowball fight?" he repeated, a frown marring his handsome face, the expression not one she'd been expecting. "You actually do that sort of thing?" he asked with disdain.

The way he said it made her feel kind of stupid, and her smile dimmed. "Well, it's tradition," Fred spoke up quickly, and she turned to look at him gratefully.

"But what if it isn't snowing yet?" Brody interjected skeptically, his nasally voice incredibly unwelcome.

"Then we use water balloons," he responded without missing a beat.

"In the middle of winter?"

"Ever heard of a Warming Charm?" Fred responded scathingly, and Brody's pale face turned red with embarrassment. "Come on, Win," he continued, ignoring the shorter Ravenclaw's not-even-slightly-intimidating glare. "We're gonna be late."

"Are you coming?" Winona asked Adam again, and the hope in her voice was unmistakable.

"I hate the snow," Adam grimaced, and Winona felt herself deflate. He hated the snow? The only reason she got through the summer was by knowing winter was around the corner, and with it, the snow.

"Oh," she murmured lamely, unsure how to respond.

"_Winnie_," George whined childishly, tapping his wrist, which was completely bare of a watch. But the intent was clear.

"I guess I'll see you later, then?" she asked Adam quietly.

"I thought you were going to come help me study in the library?" Adam was frowning, and she decided she _definitely_ preferred him when he was smiling.

George laughed. "What?" he spluttered. "But Winnie's personal motto is _Procrastinate, Then Cram_," he chortled, and Winona felt her cheeks warm at his blithe comment. Adam suddenly looked disapproving, and she had the feeling they'd be firmly discussing her study habits in the near future – and she didn't have to be a Seer to know that. "Seriously, Win, we've gotta go!" he added quickly, glancing over his shoulder like he might suddenly be able to see through the wall to the courtyard outside.

She missed her friends too much to decline, so Winona turned to Adam apologetically. "I really wanna go," she told him, firmly telling herself that she _wasn't_ asking for permission. "I'll see you later?" she murmured. She couldn't quite place the expression on his face. It wasn't anger, but it wasn't happiness either. Wary, she cupped his face, stepping closer to seal their lips in a chaste kiss, pulling back, shooting him a weak grin, then spinning around, grasping her best friends by the arms and yanking them down the hall after her.

"Finally!" George yelled as they turned the corner, making a beeline for the courtyard where their friends waited. "You're on an awfully short leash-" he tried to add, but Winona gave him a hard and not at all playful shove. He laughed nonetheless, regaining his footing and darting after her and his twin.

Winona didn't laugh, trying not to think too closely on what he'd just said. With a wall of unexpected light, the trio burst out into the courtyard, which was seemingly void of life.

Coming to a stop, Fred reaching out to steady Winona when she nearly slipped on a patch of ice, the twins looked around, scratching their heads. "That's odd," Fred commented. "They should have been here by now."

"Boys?" Winona murmured, making a full circle, taking in the piles of snow that looked just slightly too perfect to be natural. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she said from the corner of her mouth.

"Are you saying that as a Seer?" George asked carefully.

"I'm saying that as someone with a brain," she hissed back just as there was an roaring war cry and Lee, Katie, Alicia and Angelina all appeared from behind the mounds, arms laden with snowballs. "Shit!" she cursed just as the first balls went flying.

"Take cover!" Fred screamed, diving to the right, taking refuge behind the fountain with George. Quickly, Winona dropped to the icy ground, slipping her way to where they stood. Usually they elected captains, then teams were created from there – this time, however, the battle lines had already been drawn.

"Plan?" George asked, and Winona ducked further down as a snowball went flying by her head, so close that she felt the wind it brought with it rustle her hair.

"George, you're on ball duty," Winona said, thinking quickly. "Fred, you're on Charms."

"We're playing dirty?" Fred asked slyly.

She smirked back wickedly. "Don't we always?"

The fight the ensued was the stuff of legend. There were screamed battle cries, trash talk interspersed with uncontrollable laughter, and so much wonderful snow that Winona's face was probably going to be permanently pink from the cold.

It ended when George succeeded in stuffing a handful of snow down Lee's back, and with a feminine squeal the wimp declared defeat, the others deciding that – the twins being as skilled with Charms as they were, and Winona being so quick on her feet – they were fighting a losing battle.

Winona, George and Fred worked like a well-oiled machine, and she suddenly remembered how much she adored them. No boy was worth ditching them for, and she promised herself she was going to start spending more time with them.

"You're so good at improvising!" Alicia was saying to her, all of them huddled around the fire in the Gryffindor common room later that afternoon. "Maybe you should give that duelling club thing a go!"

Winona frowned in confusion. "What duelling club thing?"

"They posted it on the bulletin board this morning," Lee responded, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice the twins had gotten from the kitchen. "Was thinking of joining myself, but then I heard _Lockhart's_ running it," he said with disdain.

"Ew," Winona snorted, picking up her own bottle and taking a deep sip.

"You know, maybe if any of you actually _read_ his books-" Angelina tried to say, but the boys all gave loud, obnoxious groans and threw their heads back dramatically.

She rolled her eyes, and Winona shot her a grin. "The bloke's a fraud, Ange," she said blatantly.

"Prove it."

"He vanished the _bones _in Harry's _arm,_" Winona deadpanned. Angelina huffed as though it was hardly relevant.

"People make mistakes," she said dismissively. The boys groaned again, and this time George threw a couch cushion at her, making her and Alicia broke out into giggles, disagreement forgotten.

"Hey, what're your plans for Christmas?!" Lee asked the group suddenly. Angelina began to speak up, saying something about a trip to France with her family.

Winona was distracted, however, by a tap on her shoulder. She turned, blinking at Fred, who wasn't focused on the conversation either, but instead looking at her, an oddly thoughtful look on his face. That kind of frown didn't happen often for either of the twins, so she knew it was serious.

"What was that with Adam, before?" he asked her quietly, his pensive expression deepening.

Her lighthearted mood dropped at the reminder, and she frowned, casting a glance over at the rest of their friends, none of whom were paying them any attention, caught up in discussing their plans for the upcoming holidays.

She considered how to answer, but wasn't sure how. What _had_ it been? A fight? That didn't sound right...but, then again, it hadn't _felt_ right either.

"We're just...really different from one another, I guess," she murmured, voice low.

"He was kinda rude about the whole thing," Fred replied, reflective. Winona lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. What was she supposed to say? "Are you going to tell him he was being an arsehole?" he continued as the group next to them broke out into uproarious laughter.

"I guess," she shrugged again. Would telling him he hurt her feelings make him angry? Wasn't communication the most important thing in a relationship, or something to that effect? All she knew was that she didn't feel comfortable bringing it up.

Fred was still looking at her but she couldn't put a name to the emotion in his eyes. Concern, maybe? Disapproval?

"What about you and _Emma_?" Winona sang hurriedly, forcing a teasing smile to her face in an effort not to get overwhelmed by Fred's uncharacteristic consternation. He groaned, throwing his head back for a moment only to sit back up and glare at her. "I could still put in that good word," she reminded him, casting a glance around the room to make sure the third year Gryffindor was nowhere in sight. "Seriously, you should ask her out," she encouraged, and Fred looked thoughtful.

"Maybe I will," he said with a hum.

"Good," she grinned, and he returned the gesture before Angelina called out for their attention, and both turned to look at her expectantly, roped into the conversation happening around them.

Despite getting quickly distracted, a seed of unease had appeared in Winona's gut, one that she could tell wouldn't be going away any time soon…

"Did you hear?" Liam Stanley from fifth year barrelled into the room, nervous energy clinging to him like a coat. He came to a stop in front of them all, and the fourth years turned from their pleasant conversation to look at him warily.

"Hear what?" Katie asked.

"Harry Potter is a _Parselmouth_!" he told them in a hushed voice.

The group were stunned into silence for once long moment, before Lee exclaimed, "you're joking!"

"Does that mean it's true, then?" Angelina asked nervously. "That he's Slytherin's heir?"

"Don't be stupid," Winona hissed back, hackles rising in defence of her younger friend. "Of _course_ he's not."

"How do you know?" Alicia argued skeptically.

"Because I've _met _the kid," she rolled her eyes at the lot of them. "There's no way he's controlling Slytherin's monster to attack the Muggleborns of the school. His _best friend_ is a Muggleborn."

"What if it's just a cover?" Liam countered primly, as though he'd just singlehandedly figured out Harry's grand masterplan. "To make us trust him?"

"Do you actually hear yourself when you talk? Or is it just noise?" Fred asked scathingly. Winona was beyond relieved that he was on her – or rather, Harry's – side.

"Whatever," Liam said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking properly miffed by their lack of support. "But you're halfblooded, _and_ you were raised as a Muggle," he added, staring solely at Winona. The blonde was made uncomfortable by the snide way he pointed this out, and she shifted her weight back against the couch. It felt strangely like an attack.

"What're you saying, Stanley?" Fred asked darkly, climbing to his feet before anyone could stop him, muscles tensed like he was prepared for a fight. Winona clamoured after him, George rising as well, sensing trouble. "Was that a threat?"

"_I'm _not Slytherin's heir," Liam sniffed obnoxiously, as though simply reminding them of the facts.

"Neither is Harry," Winona replied tightly, and the brown-eyed fifth year shot her a frown.

"Prove it," he said as though this won him the argument.

"_You _prove it," Fred snapped, defending not only Winona, but his brother's best mate, as well.

Liam looked like he was considering replying, but then the portrait hole opened and Harry Potter himself walked into the common room. He came to a stop in the middle of the room, Hermione and Ron pausing beside him, all of them noticing the eyes that seemed glued to them from the moment they entered.

"Whatever," Liam said with a scowl, bringing Winona's attention back to him. "I'd watch your back, though, if I were you," he added snidely, eyes on her, and Winona felt Fred tense again from beside her. Reaching out, she pressed a hand to his forearm, squeezing gently as she watched Liam turn and storm from the room, marching up the stairs dramatically, shooting Harry a distrustful glare over his shoulder as he went.

Once he was gone, Winona turned her attention to Harry, who looked like he might be ill. She was just about to move over and see if he was okay when Ron nudged him and the two of them disappeared up into the dormitory.

"What a jerk," George was saying, pushing Fred down onto the couch and taking a seat beside him, the rest of their friends staring up at them from the floor, bewildered by the standoff they'd just witnessed. "You all right, Freddie?" he asked, patting his twin on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Fred responded, still frowning. "Bloke's just a prat."

"You can say that again," Winona agreed, taking a seat on the armrest by his side and gently laying her legs over her best friend's lap. "Thanks for defending my honour," she added, striving to keep things light, nudging his shoulder. Finally, his tense expression dropped, giving way to a grin.

"It's not over yet," he promised her. "I believe Mr Stanley is next up on our pranking list, isn't that right, George?"

"I believe so, Fred," George responded, and Winona thought that she just might have been the only person in the whole of Hogwarts who was comforted, instead of unsettled, by the twin's identical, maniacal smirks.

Unfortunately, Winona's unwavering faith in Harry's innocence was put to the ultimate test the next day. She was calmly sitting in Charms, unsuccessfully attempting a Summoning Charm, when Peeve's voice bellowed through the castle, volume enhanced by magic.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

There was no possible way for Flitwick to keep the class under control. As soon as they processed what Peeves was saying, the students stampeded from the room, the smallest of them very nearly being crushed by the wave.

Harry was there, standing horrified in the middle of the corridor, a charred, smoking Nearly-Headless Nick floating above the ground, and a frozen Justin Finch-Fletchley laying, petrified on the cold stone floor. Winona knew Harry had nothing to do with it, he just couldn't, and anyone with a brain should have known as much.

Unfortunately, the Boy-Who-Lived was looking less and less innocent by the day, and the entire school, seemed to agree.

* * *

"Hey, Harry!" Fred shouted at dinner one night, and the second year looked up from his peas and corn to blink at him. "Who're you planning on doing in next?!" he asked with around an amused cackle.

Winona rolled her eyes, but Harry didn't smile, ducking his head as Ginny cried out for her brother to stop it.

The people at nearby tables whispered conspiratorially, as though this was merely further proof of the kid's guilt. "You're a bloody riot, you are," Winona told Fred exasperatedly, though even she couldn't help the amused pull at her lips, and he grinned at her around a mouthful of mash potatoes.

"Hey," Adam appeared at her side, surprising her, as he usually didn't like to spend time at the Gryffindor table while Dumbledore was present. The Headmaster was currently sitting at the teacher's table, having what looked to be a pleasant conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Hey," she greeted him, leaning in to peck him on the cheek as he settled into the spot beside her, Neville shuffling out of the way politely.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," her boyfriend said, confusing her.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, looking down at herself like she might spot an injury she hadn't noticed.

"Well, you're sharing a common room with…_him_," Adam said, nodding his head in Harry's direction but keeping his eyes averted, as if afraid meeting the boy's gaze would petrify him on the spot.

"Excuse me?" Winona asked at the same time as Fred and George let out a shared 'ooh', knowing this was the worst possible thing Adam could say.

"I'm worried about you," Adam murmured, keeping his voice low in an effort to keep anyone from hearing. Well, if he wanted this to be a private affair, he should have picked a more secluded venue. "I don't like the thought of you up in Gryffindor Tower with Slytherin's heir..."

"You're kidding," Winona deadpanned, staring at him with stormy eyes. This had to be sort of joke, but then again, Adam didn't even _like_ jokes. The Ravenclaw looked confused by her dry expression, unsure how to react. "Adam, Harry _isn't_ the one hurting people," she said it slowly, like she were explaining something simple to an idiot.

"I know you're friends with him," he replied with a smile, reaching out to press a hand to her shoulder, squeezing firmly like he was in some way comforting her. "But you can't let yourself be blinded by affection – look at the evidence-"

"The _evidence _is _wrong_," she hissed, feeling indignation rear its head in her gut. She felt insulted on Harry's behalf, he was such a great kid – smart and kind and thoughtful – and yet everyone thought he was actually _capable_ of this shit? She was surrounded by idiots.

"Look, I just wanted to be a good boyfriend and make sure you were alright," Adam said quietly, glancing around self-consciously at her friends, who were all suspiciously quiet but clearly making an effort to appear distracted by their meals.

"Why, because I'm Half-blood?" she asked, eyebrow cocked dangerously.

"Well…yeah."

George let out a low whistle, giving up the pretence of not listening and instead shaking his head at the Ravenclaw slowly. "Wrong answer, mate," he said with a click of his tongue. Adam looked irritated by the interjection.

"You want to go for a walk?" he asked her, clearly wanting to get some privacy.

"Not really," Winona responded. The last thing she wanted to do in that moment was go somewhere alone with him.

"Fine," he said, a disappointed frown pulling at his brow. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," she nodded once, but it was insincere. He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more, only to frown even deeper and stand to his feet, heading back over to the Ravenclaw table with a glance over his shoulder.

Even once he was gone her friends still remained silent, and she looked up to see them all staring at her. She glared at them.

"Feel free to keep staring," she said grumpily, and Angelina, Katie, Lee and George all looked away. Fred, however, continued to stare. It didn't feel as intrusive as the others' had, instead he simply looked concerned, like he was worried about her.

"You okay?" he finally asked once the others had melted into a halfhearted conversation about Quidditch.

"I'm fine," she replied, not even sure whether it was the truth or not. She wasn't sure how she felt. Not heartbroken or upset, more like annoyed, and irritated, and strangely hurt. She took a breath and then a deep gulp of pumpkin juice, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand before returning to her meal.

Fred wanted to say more, she could tell, but he kept his mouth shut, merely spooning more peas into his mouth before allowing himself to be sucked into Lee and Katie's discussion about the_ Chudley Cannons _while Winona chewed on a slice of pork, trying not to brood _too_ much.

After getting no sleep and having a creative block with her sketching – which almost never happened – she wandered down to breakfast with the others the next morning in a foul mood.

The twins were talking, something about Snape and shampoo, but she wasn't really paying attention.

Harry was somewhere in front of them, head down as people in the corridors stared at him when he passed like he were something at the zoo.

Abruptly, the twins sped up, darting in front of the younger boy and beginning to shoo people out of the way. "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin!" George shouted loudly, and the students lining the hallway seemed to pale at the mention.

"Seriously evil wizard coming through!" Fred added enthusiastically, and a group of first year Hufflepuffs scattered away like they were afraid Harry would sprout fangs and attack them.

Winona couldn't help it, the whole thing was rather ridiculous, and despite her horrible mood, she found herself smiling at the twins' theatrics.

"What are you two _doing_?" Percy appeared in front of them, pulling the entire entourage to a stop, his prefect badge gleaming proudly on his chest. "It is _not_ a laughing matter," he said coldly, looking like he was very much considering handing out a detention.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred with an air of great importance, waving his brother out of their path. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," added George, chortling loudly. Although Harry blushed, there was a hint of a grin sitting on his lips, and Winona was proud to know the twins could cheer even him up even when things seemed bleakest. That was their talent, she supposed; laughter – and she _loved_ it.

"Could you stop them?" Percy asked her loudly, sounding very much like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

"I could," she allowed with a nod, and the prefect practically sagged with relief, "but I won't."

"But-" he began to argue.

"Take a breath, Percy," she told him jovially, shooting him a casual wave as she headed down the corridor after her friends, who were shouting about Harry's 'pristine' lineage in overly dramatic voices.

Adam came to find her that evening before dinner, looking grumpy, which made Winona want to talk to him even less.

"The twins wouldn't tell me where you were," he told her, coming to a stop beside her where she sat just inside the doorway to the courtyard, where she could still see the snow but it wouldn't be able to ruin her artwork.

"They're just being protective," she replied carefully, not looking up from where she was sketching a snowy white owl with nothing but a quill and some ink. She wasn't in the mood to try anything fancy, content to just freehand with her school supplies.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologised, and with a reluctant huff she glanced up from her work to where he was standing above her. He certainly looked apologetic, and he took a seat beside her, casting her work a curious glance before speaking again. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"But you did," she replied softly, turning back to her art.

"I was only worried because..." he trailed off, suddenly nervous, and Winona's drawing hand paused as she waited for him to say what he needed to. "I was worried because I think that I love you."

Dread filled her like water pouring into a balloon. That wasn't right, surely her reaction to that sort of proclamation should have been _joy _or _delight_ or _reciprocated love. _She felt none of these things, and that was exactly how she knew what she had to do.

She turned to Adam, who was staring at her expectantly, no doubt waiting for her to reply in kind.

"I think we should break up," she said quickly, like ripping off a bandaid.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide. Clearly this was the last thing he'd expected her to say. "_Break_ _up_?"

She could have been blunt and cruel, but she saw the hurt in his warm brown eyes and knew she couldn't do that to him. "I'm only in fourth year, and we're just so different from one another," she said carefully, putting her sketchbook off to the side and turning to look at him properly. "Look, all I know is that, when you said that just then, I wasn't happy, I was upset," she said, and the hurt in his eyes multiplied. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't feel the same, and I can't lead you on like that."

He looked like he wasn't sure whether to feel devastated or angry, and he sighed, reaching up to rub at his eyes tiredly.

"We've only been dating for three months," she reminded him gently, and he looked back up at her sadly.

"Is this really what you want?" he asked her softly, still torn between emotions.

"Yes."

"Okay," he nodded stonily. He wasn't crying, and he wasn't yelling, and yet somehow this was worse. "Have a nice Christmas, Winona," he told her cordially, reaching out to squeeze her hand before climbing to his feet and walking away.

She wanted to say she felt sad at the break up, wanted to say she felt like crying to mourn the loss of the relationship – but instead the only thing she could feel was relief, and that in itself was telling. Still, she hated to hurt his feelings, and she sighed heavily as she collected her things, threading her messenger bag over her shoulder and heading for her common room with slow, measured steps.

The twins were sitting by the fire, textbooks lay open on their laps though they weren't paying them any attention, instead absorbed in quiet scheming, which made everyone around them nervous; except her.

She dropped her bag on the ground, then obnoxiously squished herself down between the two of them, cutting off their intense mutterings to peer at her in surprise. She may not have felt heartbroken, but she was rather down, and when she was down, the only people she wanted to be with were Fred and George Weasley.

"Everything alright, poppet?" George asked lightly, shutting his textbook with a thud and pushing it uncaringly off his lap.

"I just broke up with Adam," she told them without preamble. She was met with shocked silence.

"Why?" Fred finally asked, turning on the couch so he was facing her, and she pulled her legs up underneath herself for a subtle sense of comfort. "Because of the Harry thing?" he questioned, casting a glance around the common room for any hint of the troubled kid, but he was nowhere to be found.

"He told me he loved me," she replied honestly, and again was met with only stunned silence. "I wasn't ready for that – besides, I don't feel the same." She sighed deeply, tipping her head back until it bumped against the back of the couch, leaving her to stare forlornly up at the ceiling. "I think, I was more interested in the _idea_ of a relationship than I ever actually was in _him_," she mused, grey eyes running over the cracks in the roof above her. "Does that make me a terrible person?" she asked them quietly, brow beginning to ache from how deeply it was furrowed.

"Nah," Fred and George assured her. "It makes you a _young _person."

She smiled, relieved her boys were always there to cheer her up.

"Besides, you couldn't have dated him forever," Fred added slyly. "You're going to have to marry one of us, eventually."

Sitting up straight, Winona whirled around to gape at him. "_Excuse me_?" she asked around an incredulous laugh, unable to help herself.

Fred was grinning wolfishly. "It's statistics, darling," he told her impishly. "You're going to end up with one of us."

"Kill me now," she replied with a roll of her eyes, laughing jovially as she leaned back against the couch.

"I'll have you know, we're great catches, and any witch would be lucky to have us," George piped up, mock-indignant.

"Never said they wouldn't," she agreed with a smile. "It's just not gonna be _me._"

"What makes you so sure?" Fred asked slyly. "What if we hit thirty, and we're still single – and our only option is to marry each other?"

"I'd rather die alone," she joked with a laugh.

"Seriously," he said, still grinning, but adopting a slightly more serious tone. "If we're thirty and unattached, you'll marry me? I mean, what are your other options, really?"

"What if I wanna marry George?" she asked, and Fred gasped as though she'd deeply offended him. She let out a peal of laughter. "You won't be single by then," she said once she'd calmed down, shoving Fred lightly in the shoulder. "_You're a great catch and any witch would be lucky to have you_," she repeated in a low, masculine voice that sounded nothing like them.

"_We _know that, and _you _know that…but _they _don't necessarily know that," George murmured with a huff. Winona laughed again, the sound bright and carefree despite the rough nature of her evening.

"Well, let's head down to dinner, then, and I'll start telling everyone what great catches you both are," she said, climbing to her feet and lifting her bag and turning to grin at them impishly. "Surely someone will be stupid enough to believe me."

The twins cried out indignantly, but Winona only laughed, making a beeline for the portrait hole before either one of them could retaliate. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw George packing up their things, and Fred looking back at her. She grinned, crossing her eyes at him playfully for one long moment before turning and darting out into the corridor, feeling happy warmth spread from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed. I've had a super busy, stressful, tiring week, and it would mean so much if you guys could let me know how you're liking the story so far. Reviews are the only fuel source I have, and the mean the world. If not, that's okay, and thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I am writing. See you soon!**


	17. Happens to the best of us

Christmastime at Hogwarts was the best part of any year. Winona always stayed because a lonely castle was better than a lonely foster home. All the Weasley's stayed over break that year too, what with their parents being in Egypt visiting Bill.

Fred and George spent all of their time with her, claiming it was to help her get 'over Adam'. She liked spending time with them – making up for all the time they'd missed while Adam had been domineering all of her spare time – but the constant watch they kept on her never let up, and it began to grow old quickly.

She finally cracked on Christmas Eve, when they sat on the ground in front of her, messing around with some Gobstones but glancing up at her every other moment.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" George asked warily, for about the millionth time since term had ended.

Without looking up from her halfhearted sketching, Winona replied, "you know I'm already dead inside, Georgie." The twins gave snorted, but neither looked particularly convinced. Feeling their stares on her face, she huffed as she dropped her book to glare at them both sternly. "I'm fine. I'm not about to break out into tears over this, okay? I'm _fine_."

They still looked wholly unconvinced.

"Will you please leave me alone?" she begged. "Stop watching me like I'm going to explode – because I'm not."

"Kind of like you are right now?" asked Fred with raised eyebrows.

"You'd get sick of it too if your best mate wouldn't stop staring you like they were sure you were going to break down," she replied, picking up her sketchbook and returning to her work, pencil pressing so hard into the parchment it left an indent.

From in front of her, Fred and George exchanged a look that she blatantly ignored, then George murmured an excuse to go up to the dorm while Fred stood from the ground, taking a seat on the cushion to her left. George disappeared and Fred said nothing, pulling at a loose thread on his jumper.

"So you drew the short straw?" she finally asked once the silence became too much.

He didn't bother acknowledging the somewhat bitter remark. "Are you really okay?" he asked instead, turning on the couch to face her. She stubbornly refused to look up from her sketch of a unicorn and its foal.

"If you ask me that one more time, Fred, I swear to Merlin I'll jab this pencil into your eye," she told him without so much a ounce of doubt. Fred said nothing, and she sighed. "Why are you two so convinced that I'm not okay?" she demanded, exasperation thrumming through her veins.

"We're just worried," he said quietly. "Breaking up with someone is a big deal – or so Witch Weekly says."

She glanced up, incredulous. "Since when are _you_ reading Witch Weekly?"

"Since they had an article on breakups," he replied without flinching, refusing to be embarrassed. "We thought looking into it might help."

Despite herself Winona had to smile, and she finally looked up from her sketch to meet his eyes, seeing within them nothing but genuine concern. "I was the one to break things off," she reminded him evenly. "It was for the best."

"He was your first love," he replied with only a hint of stilted awkwardness, and she knew it was a term he'd gotten from his magazine research. She smiled in fond amusement.

"I wasn't in love with the guy, Fred," she told him. "I was in love with the _idea _of the guy. With the attention he gave me." She paused, turning back to her sketch for somewhere to look other than his eyes. "But it doesn't matter – anyone with anything against Harry isn't right for me."

"You really care about the kid, don't you?" Fred mused thoughtfully.

She smiled softly, the expression a little helpless. "I can't explain it," she admitted. "I just feel responsible for him. Like we're connected, in some way…I just can't figure out _how_." She sighed. "Anyway, I think I knew it was over with Adam the moment he asked if it was safe for me to spend any time with Harry," she said simply. "Breaking things off was the right thing to do. Wish I'd done it sooner."

"And you're _sure_ you're okay-"

"Fred! Pencil – eye."

"Right."

"Can we just talk about something else? Let's play a game. _Anything_ is better than the two of you babysitting me like this."

Fred looked intrigued. "Okay, we'll play a game. You pick."

She grinned, the expression full of relief. "Ever hear of Pictionary?"

So that was how they spent their Christmas Eve. George went and fetched Harry, Ron and Hermione, then both trios formed teams and played against one another. It was the most fun Winona had had all term. She felt happy, and despite the twins' hovering, she found herself free and bright, spending time with the best of her friends.

Winona woke up Christmas morning alone in the dorm. She didn't mind, it was calm and peaceful, and she took an extra half hour to doze before sitting up to attack the pile of presents on the end of her bed.

Harry and Ron pitched in and got her some Every Flavour Beans, and Hermione had gotten her – to nobody's surprise – a book. It was on art history in the Wizarding world, so clearly Hermione had found a way around her aversion to reading. Sneaky little blighter.

Mrs Weasley sent some treacle tart and a new sweater in the usual shade of purple with a large golden _W_ stitched into the front. Lee sent her a month's supply of Sugar Quills, and she popped one into her mouth before moving onto the next present.

Angelina and the other girls had gotten together to buy her a nice sundress to 'wear over the summer', as they had said in their letter, and finally, the twins had sent her a case of vials full of an array of coloured glitter from Scribbulus' Writing Instruments in Diagon Alley. She hadn't seen it the last time she'd been in, and realised they must have ordered it by owl for her, making her smile happily.

_For mayhem – because there's nothing funnier than a face full of glitter!_ it said in George's block letters.

_Or maybe art purposes...probably art purposes..._ Fred had written underneath in his sharp chicken-scratch, making her grin widely as she peered inside at the bright glitter that she just knew was going to get _everywhere._

But soon, almost too soon for Winona's liking, the break came to an end and the common room was once again _full_ of rowdy Gryffindors. She found Alicia and Lee first, and took a seat beside the former, watching as they played a game of Exploding Snap by the space in front of the fire.

Alicia looked up in time to miss a face full of smoke from the exploding cards, and Winona grinned at her. "Wotcher, you two," she said, reaching across to pat Lee on top of his piled dreadlocks like he were a good pet.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked, dealing out a set of cards for Winona, who took them quickly, glancing at her hand before slapping down the right card and allowing him to follow.

"Good," she told him, watching as Alicia played her turn with a hesitant move.

"Did you like your dress?" Alicia asked eagerly.

"Love it," she smiled. "What about you? Do you like the earrings we picked out?"

Alicia pushed back her wiry black hair to reveal the cute little lion earrings that Winona and the other girls in the dorm had picked out over catalogue. She grinned, turning back to the card game. "So I heard you and Prince Charming broke up," Lee began conversationally when they began their second game.

"We did," she confirmed, keeping her eyes on her cards. "Who told you?"

"Fred and George did, in their letter," he replied, and Winona rolled her eyes – she should have known.

"How're you holding up?" Alicia asked compassionately, as though expecting her friend to burst into tears over the conversation topic.

Winona tossed her a small smile despite the annoyance coiled in her gut at the question, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm fine," she said evenly. "_I_ broke up with _him_ – it wasn't working out." She paused, then asked, "what about you?" She was eager to get the conversation off of herself. "Any boys we should be hearing about?"

Lee gave a gossipy gasp that made both girls laugh, and Alicia shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing worth mentioning," she said, but there was a slight glint to her eyes that made Winona promise to bring it up later, when Lee wasn't around.

She opened her mouth to talk, only for her vision to flicker in and out, like somebody was rapidly switching the lights on and off. Knowing what this meant, she grasped her bag of supplies, murmured something vague about the bathroom, then stumbled up to the dorm just as the vision gripped her tightly, dragging her under.

When she came back out to the present and looked down at her sketch, she was only confused.

There was a mirror, a small one, in a library, being held by Hermione. She couldn't her face, but that head of bushy hair was unmistakable. There was nothing overly exciting happening in the sketch, nothing particularly good or bad, but as she stared down at it, she got the strongest sense of _wrong._

Whenever this was going to happen, it wasn't going to lead to anything good.

The first thing that Winona knew she needed to do was find Hermione, only the second year student wasn't in any of her usual haunts. Worry sat in her gut like sour milk, and she was thinking the worst when she ran into Harry and Ron, who were on their way back from the owlery.

"Thank Merlin," she breathed, coming to a hasty stop in front of them. "Where's Hermione?"

"Hello to you too, Winnie," Ron drawled sarcastically, but the witch was not in the mood.

"Hermione?" she repeated, the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

"She's in the hospital wing," Harry revealed, and Winona just about gasped in panic.

"She's not-?"

"No," he shook his head quickly, and she sagged with obvious relief. "The Polyjuice Potion went wrong – she accidentally used cat hair instead of human. She's fine, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be there awhile."

"Is she allowed visitors?" Winona asked hopefully.

"We go see her every day," Ron nodded. "But she's really embarrassed about all the fur, so don't make a big deal of it," he added, giving a grimace, and Winona decided he was definitely speaking from experience.

She gave them a grateful smile, then turned to go. "Hang on, is everything okay?" Harry's voice stopped her, and she turned to frown at him. "You haven't had a vision or something, have you?" he asked, concerned.

"When I know what it means, I'll tell you," she promised him, though the pair didn't look overly satisfied with the response. "Wait, what happened with the plan?" she asked, remembering what they'd been working on over Christmas. She'd seen them over the whole break, but she'd almost always been with the twins and didn't want to bring up their ingenious plan with those two human bludgers around. "Did Malfoy reveal anything?" she asked eagerly.

The boys' expressions turned sour, and Ron scowled at the floor. "He isn't the Heir," Harry told her quietly, sounding much too weary for someone who was only twelve years old. "And he doesn't even know who is."

"So, we've got nothing?" she asked, suddenly tired.

"We've got nothing," he agreed, and she sighed.

"Well, it was worth a shot," she told them, and they gave halfhearted shrugs in response. She shot them a tired smile and turned, heading straight for the hospital wing, disappointment bubbling in her gut.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't anywhere in sight when Winona entered, but she spotted Hermione right away, sitting in the far left corner, skin covered by bristly black fur.

"Winona!" the girl exclaimed at the sight of her, flinching as though to cover her face, but she'd already seen it all, so there really wasn't any point.

"Looking hot, 'Mione," Winona smirked, wandering over to her and taking a seat on the chair provided. The second year groaned, dropping her feline features into her hands defeatedly. "I'm kidding," she said with a small laugh, reaching out to pat her gently on her legs, which were covered by thick blankets. "Don't be embarrassed, happens to the best of us."

Hermione looked up, her eyes a startling, inhuman yellow. She looked like she very much doubted the truth in Winona's statement.

"Once, in second year, an incident in Potions burnt George's hair off," she said, and Hermione's feline eyes went wide. "He was so embarrassed that he nicked a vile of Hair-Growth Potion from Snape's stores, but didn't know how much to take so he just downed the whole thing. Ten minutes later, there's hair growing from every part of his body!" Hermione spluttered a laugh of surprise. "I'm not even kidding, he looked like a ginger version of _Cousin Itt_!"

Hermione giggled some more and Winona grinned proudly, glad she'd gotten the girl to laugh. It really was the best medicine, in her experience.

"What happened?" Hermione asked once she'd calmed down and stopped picturing George like a tiny, twelve-year-old Wookiee.

"Came here, of course," Winona replied with another laugh. "Pomfrey doesn't ask too many questions, thankfully."

"How did they get rid of it all?"

"It was all over him, so we couldn't use severing charms, instead we just dug out some medical scissors and all took turns trimming it down."

Hermione smiled, yellow eyes watering slightly as she turned her gaze to her furry hands. "Was he embarrassed?" the younger witch asked, and Winona grinned.

"It was _George_," she reminded her. "So he'll _swear_ he wasn't…but I think he kinda was," she divulged, and Hermione smiled again. "We all make mistakes, and, give it a year or so; you'll look back at this and laugh – I promise you."

The door on the other side of the room opened, and Madam Pomfrey was striding in, two vials of potions held in a steady hand. "I'm afraid Miss Granger needs rest, Miss Andrews," she tutted as she approached. "You can visit her tomorrow."

Winona climbed to her feet, shooting Hermione a smile. "If you need _anything_..." she trailed off, and Hermione nodded her thanks. With a final smile, Winona turned and left the hospital wing. She was satisfied that Hermione wasn't in danger – for now. She'd just have to keen a close eye on her, try and feel when the bad things would start to happen, in that way she couldn't explain but always experienced.

"There you are!" exclaimed Fred when she climbed through the portrait hole to the common room. "Where've you been?!"

"Had something to take care of," she replied vaguely, but he didn't push her for more information. She was distracted, and wandered over to the stairs leading to the girls' dorms.

"You haven't even said hello to us yet!" George called out from behind her, and she rolled her eyes at their usual, ridiculous dramatics.

"Sorry," she apologised to them with a sugary smile, spinning around and pushing herself up on her toes to wrap her arms around George's neck, pulling him down in a firm hug. He laughed, patting her firmly on the back, and she pulled away with a grin. "Better now?" she asked, bopping him on the nose in a move that seemed more cheerful than she felt.

"Much," he beamed as she moved on to Fred. She pushed herself up again, pulling the other twin into a big, warm embrace. He was firm and smelled like gunpowder, but the scent was comforting, and she rested her chin on his shoulder for a long moment, breathing it in as his arms wound around her waist, hugging her back tightly.

"Get up to much mischief in the last _hour_ since I saw you?" she asked dryly, finally pulling away from him to smile up into his eyes, and he grinned back roguishly.

"You know it," he told her cheerfully, and she bopped him on the nose as well, noting that his arms now sat carelessly over her hips, the position casual and easy. She felt the urge to hug him again, but that would be weird, so she merely grinned back and extracted herself from his gentle grip, dropping back down to her regular height and crossing her arms over her chest. "What's going on?" Fred asked, as always, able to read her like a bloody book.

"Had a vision," she replied carefully, glancing over her shoulder to ensure nobody was close enough to hear. "Here," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the window in the corner. It was firmly closed, the chill from outside too great to keep it open. She took a seat at the small table beneath it and the twins hovered over her, watching intently as she pulled out her sketchbook and flipped it to the page with the predictive sketch scrawled onto the parchment.

"What is that supposed to be?" Fred asked from above her, leaning over the table to get a better look, his twin looking as puzzled as he did.

"Hermione," she replied lamely, not having the answers herself.

"Thanks, Auror Obvious," George drawled sarcastically, but she paid him no heed.

"All I know is that when I look at it? I get a really bad feeling in my gut," she told them softly, gazing down at the rough but clear sketch, unsure what to make of it. She had the greatest sense that she needed to _do something_, though what, she hadn't the slightest clue. "Something bad's going to happen to Hermione," she murmured, the words making her feel sick. "Unless I stop it."

"Whoa," Fred said, abruptly standing straight and tugging at her shoulder until she was facing him, a look of confusion and concern splayed over his face. "_You _stop it?"

"Yeah," Winona nodded, not understanding the big deal.

"Do you know where this is going to happen? Or when?"

She paused, not appreciating him poking holes in her plan, even though she knew he was right. "I'm hoping I'll know when the time comes," she told him with a frown.

"You're _hoping_?" he repeated, looking at her like she'd gone insane. George was watching the interaction, face carefully devoid of emotion.

"Look, I'm not saying I'm going to jump in front of a dark curse to save her or anything, I'm just saying I'm going to do everything I can to prevent this from happening," she said, growing defensive.

"Why is that _your_ job?" he asked her, sounding irritated.

"Because _I'm _the one who gets the visions," she replied with waning patience.

"So now you're in charge of stopping every bad thing you ever see from happening?"

"Why else would I get the visions?"

"To tell Dumbledore, that sounds like a much better plan!"

"I can't go running to Dumbledore for every little thing!"

"You don't have to – and this isn't _little_!"

"Guys!" George shouted, and the arguing pair fell quiet, realising their voices had been raised and the few Gryffindors milling around the common room were staring at them bewilderedly, never having thought they'd ever see Winona and a Weasley twin in a fight.

"You've never wanted to go to Dumbledore, _ever_, for _anything_," she hissed at him, lowering her voice. "Why now?"

"It's just different, this time," he hissed back, though his words lacked anger, replaced by exasperation.

"Why?" she pressed stubbornly.

"Because you could get hurt," he said, all bite gone from his tone; now he only sounded tired. "It's different, because it's _you_ on the line, not us," he told her sincerely, and she felt her heart swell in her chest.

"I appreciate the concern," she told him gently, a soft, understanding smile flickering to life on her face. "I really do, but this is my problem, and I'm going to deal with it how I think it needs to be dealt with."

He stared at her, eyes large and pensive, before he nodded, losing the fight. "I can't stop you," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

"But I love you all the more for trying," she added, shooting him a gentle but sincere smile, stepping closer and pushing herself up onto her toes so she could reach his cheek, pressing her lips to it and holding back a giggle as she was met with a light stubble that she hadn't even realised was there. They really were growing up.

She pulled back, and he was staring at her, a contemplative glint to his eyes, like there was something he didn't understand. She patted the cheek she'd kissed, then stepped back onto the flats of her feet. "I'll see you trolls in the morning," she told them both lightheartedly, and George sent her a smile before the pair watched her disappear up the stairs and around the corner.

The month of January passed quickly and things returned to normal. There were no attacks, though the school was still abuzz with whispers, everyone contemplating when the next attack would be. Nobody went anywhere by themselves, especially if they were Muggleborn.

Adam would sometimes send her long looks from across the Great Hall. She always responded with nothing but a polite smile before she went back to what she was doing, and soon enough the looks stopped coming.

Lockhart was as ridiculous as ever, his outfits getting more and more atrocious, and his lessons getting duller and duller, to the point where people had begun to fall asleep during them, which was an activity usually left for Binns' class.

Winona kept her eye on Hermione, who was soon enough let out of the hospital wing, fully human once again. She waited, watching closely for any sign that something was coming, that her vision was moments away from coming true, but it never came.

She knew she should have told Dumbledore, but something inside her was telling her to keep it to herself. She'd already kept a sketch from him once, after all, and he hadn't smitten her for it like the hand of God. She felt like getting too many people involved would push everything off course. She couldn't tell you how she knew this, it was like different coloured strings in her mind, some she pulled and things went bad, others she pulled and things happened exactly as they were supposed to.

Before they knew it, it was February fourteenth, and Winona was waking up to the excited chittering of her dorm mates.

"I'm hoping Cedric Diggory will send me some roses," Alicia was saying to the others, who were all wandering around getting ready for the day as they chatted. "We've been making eyes at each other in Herbology all year."

"I heard he had a thing for Cho Chang," said Hope casually, running an enchanted brush through her hair that straightened it magically. Winona rolled out of bed, pulling on her uniform with a yawn and making a beeline for the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Shame you broke up with Adam, Winona," Hope added as she passed. "You couldn't have held out another month?"

"Stay with him longer just so I wouldn't be single on Valentines Day?" she asked with a toothbrush between her teeth. Hope didn't seem to see a problem with this, nodded fervently, to which Winona decided deserved no reply.

"Come on," Alicia was saying to Hope, thankfully distracting her, "I don't want to be late for breakfast in case Cedric wants to make a grand romantic gesture."

Winona snorted around her mouthful of toothpaste, but neither seemed to notice. The door to the dorm shut loudly, and Winona assumed she was alone, rinsing her mouth and picking up a comb to tame her mussed hair before turning to leave, only to stop short at the sight of Angelina standing just inside the other room, hands twisted together anxiously, clearly waiting for her to be done.

"Sorry, did you want the loo?" Winona asked, stepping out of the way, but she only shook her head, strangely nervous.

"Can we...talk?" Angelina asked slowly.

"'Course," Winona nodded, heading over to her bed and sitting down, yanking on her sneakers one by one. "What's up, Ange?"

"I don't want this to be weird…"

"Then don't _make_ it weird," Winona replied simply, never usually one to find situations awkward. "Come on, spill," she said with a soft smile, picking up her Gryffindor tie and throwing the loop over her head, tightening the knot to her neck even though she knew she'd last barely five minutes before loosening it again.

"I kind of…like someone," Angelina said, and Winona imagined that if her skin weren't so dark, she'd have seen her blushing.

"Ooh," she responded cheerfully, shooting her friend a teasing glance. "Go on, then, who is it?" she prompted eagerly when it didn't seem like Ange was going to tell her on her own.

"It's Fred," Angelina said. Winona blinked in surprise. Then she blinked again.

"Okay," she said slowly, processing this and trying to figure out what it meant. "Why would that be weird?"

"Because he's your best mate," Ange said like it were obvious. Winona's eyebrows hit her hairline.

"Okay," she said again, "and why're you telling _me_?"

"I thought, well, I know you're closer with the twins, but you're my best mate besides Katie and Alicia."

"And why not tell one of them?"

"Well, Katie can't keep a secret to save her life," Ange chuckled, but the sound was nervous. "And Alicia would probably tell Fred in an attempt to set us up, and I don't want that. I want it to be natural."

"Right," Winona said, but she still didn't get it. Then, as Angelina stared at her quietly, she understood. "And you think I have the best insight into how to win Fred over," she said, it all making sense now.

"I _know _you do," Ange was nodding eagerly. "You said it yourself a few weeks ago; you know those boys better than you know yourself."

It was true, she had said as much. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, wary.

"Just put in a good word," she replied quickly. "But casually. In a way that doesn't let him know I already like him."

"Gotcha," Winona nodded, although she did not, indeed, 'get her'. What did that even _mean_? What was she meant to say? '_Check out Angelina's dope arse, by the way, she's single_'?

"You're the best," Angelina told her happily, stepping closer to pull her friend into a side-hug, then stepped away and gestured to the door. "Breakfast?"

"Gladly," she nodded, leading the way from the dorm and down the stairs. The common room was nearly empty, and it might have just been as it was any other day, except there were strings of pink, cut-out paper hearts hung up across each of the windows.

Grimacing, Winona sincerely hoped that was the only cheesy decoration she had to suffer through this Valentines Day.

Unfortunately, she was very, very disappointed only five minutes later.

The Great Hall was decked out like the inside of a twelve year old girl's bedroom. Massive, pink, paper mache hearts were stuck along every wall, and heart-shaped confetti floated down from the enchanted ceiling, spilling into everybody's breakfast and just causing general irritation.

"_Brilliant_," Winona said with heavy sarcasm, eyeing the Hall with disgust.

"Don't be such a Grinch," Angelina laughed, glancing around at the lurid decorations with a critical but happy eye. "It's a little over the top, but I think it's kinda sweet," she said, holding out her hand and catching some of the confetti.

"Can you actually believe this?" Winona asked the twins when she slid onto the bench opposite them, already pulling eggs onto her plate, ducking out of the way of a particularly large piece of falling confetti. "Since when does Dumbledore force us to celebrate _Valentines Day_?"

"Oh, I don't think Dumbledore's the one behind this, Win," Fred said, casting a glance up at the teacher's table where Lockhart, donned in sickeningly pink, elaborate robes, was standing to his feet and waving for everyone's attention.

"Should have guessed," Winona rolled her eyes, not bothering to pay attention as Lockhart spoke, instead turning her attention to salting her breakfast.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" the idiot was shouting grandly. Winona groaned at the stupid, lilting tone his voice took on. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!"

Alicia let out something of a tiny squeak from behind her, and Winona spun around to stare at her with wide eyes. Her friend was blushing, tugging sweetly at a lock of dark hair. They would definitely be revisiting that later.

"Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. They were dressed up like Cupids, complete with glittering wings and glistening golden harps.

Winona snorted loudly into her goblet, nearly choking on her juice.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" trilled Lockhart from the front. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Winona turned to look at Fred and George in excitement. "Three sickles to the first of you to ask Snape how to brew a love potion," she dared, grinning at them impishly.

"You're on," Fred beamed back, turning to look at Snape, already considering how best to approach him.

"Come on," said Angelina suddenly, glancing down at her watch. "We're going to be late for History of Magic."

The twins gave a simultaneous groan that Winona vehemently agreed with, but they all allowed Angelina to tug them in the direction of Binns' classroom. They were halfway there when the greatest thing to ever happen, happened right in front of them.

One of the cupid-dressed goblins was straddling a struggling Harry, and the four friends came to an abrupt stop, along with the rest of the gathering crowd.

"_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."_

Everyone burst into laughter, though none so loud as the twins, who had to hold themselves upright so as not to fall over. Winona cackled loudly, although she couldn't help but feel a little bad for the kid, who was blushing bright red, utterly mortified by the poem. The twins were brushing tears of mirth from their eyes as Percy sternly ushered them out of the corridor and into Binns' classroom.

The twins were still chuckling over it when the teacher himself wandered casually through the blackboard and began the lesson.

That night, the twins had decided not to let Harry forget it for even a moment, singing, "_his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad_," over and over in low, grouchy little goblin voices, until finally Harry had enough and fled the common room, disappearing up into his dorm.

Winona giggled, curled into the corner of a couch, watching as the twins settled into the empty spots on her right, expressing how 'disappointed' they were to not have received any Valentines themselves.

A throat cleared from behind her and Winona turned to see Angelina staring, trying to tell her something with her eyes. Confused, Winona mouthed, "what?" but the other girl only looked at Fred pointedly. Unfortunately, with a strained grimace, Winona got the message.

"Hey, Freddie," she began.

"No."

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"You only call me Freddie when you want something," he drawled, tossing her an innocent look that was tined by mirth. She sent him a flat expression and he sighed, like he were doing her a huge favour by asking, "what is it?"

"You ever think of Ange…like…romantically?"

George choked on his mouthful of water, spitting it from his lips, and Fred blinked at her in shock. "Uh, not particularly," he answered her, frowning. She could understand the confusion, but she'd never claimed to be any good at subtlety.

"Well…maybe you should?" she said, awkward enough that it sounded like a question.

Fred was blinking, trying to understand. "Why?" he asked slowly, as George was holding his chest, trying to suppress his cackles.

"Because she's pretty, and I think she's great and that you two would be a good match," she told him, sounding stilted, like she were reading the words off a page.

He stared, clearly not buying it for a second. "Weren't you only _just_ telling me to ask out Emma?" he asked, suspicious.

"Dammit," she cussed, deciding this was all too difficult. "Okay, fine," she hissed, keeping her voice low and her expression clear, so it seemed like they were just chatting about something inconsequential. "Look, Ange likes you," she told him in an undertone, and his eyebrows just about hit his hairline.

"But that doesn't make sense," George spoke up, and Winona leaned around Fred to look at him. "She can't even tell us apart half the time – how does she know which one of us she likes?"

"I don't know, shall I go over there and ask her?" she asked sweetly. George rolled his eyes, knowing answering was like walking into a trap. "All I know is, she told me to subtly put in a good word."

"Well, just so you're aware, you're _rubbish_ at the whole 'subtle' thing," Fred told her dryly, and she scrunched up her face at him childishly.

"So, what're you gonna do about it?" she asked him after a moment, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

"I dunno," he murmured, caught off guard.

"You've gotta choose," she told him with a tongue-in-teeth grin. "Emma or Ange."

"Considering Emma barely knows he exists, his options really aren't that numerous," George interjected. Winona laughed, reclining back on the couch and throwing her legs over the twins' laps, her thighs resting over Fred's, and her ankles on George's.

"What do you think I should do?" Fred asked Winona, looking pensive. It was a rare look on him – when it came to most things in life, he tended to have a make-it-up-as-he-went-along outlook. _Introspective_ wasn't really in his vocabulary.

But honestly, why ask her? "How should I know?"

"You're the Seer."

"I don't read palms at a travelling carnival, Fred," she told him snippily, but he didn't seem to understand what she was saying. "What I mean is, I can't tell you things like that. I've no idea."

Fred still looked thoughtful. "And to believe, just last year we still thought girls were gross," George said slyly, and Winona let out a peal of laughter that made even Fred crack a grin. Lee wandered over and they got caught up in a conversation about the recurring nightmares involving mandrakes their dreadlocked friend was suffering from.

Winona let the matter of Angelina drop, but every now and then throughout the night, she'd glance over at Fred to find his lips pursed and his brow furrowed, like he were trying to do an equation in his head. She wondered what he'd do about Angelina, or even if he'd do anything at all.

_It's none of my business_, she reminded herself. Because it wasn't, not really. Beyond coming to her for advice – which, in truth, she kind of hoped they never did – whatever happened now was up to them.

The days passed quickly, rushing by like time were running a race against itself, and there were still no more attacks. Winona began to feel a false sense of security wrap around the school like a blanket, and it only set her more on edge.

"Maybe whoever it was has given up," suggested Lee one afternoon as they wandered through the courtyard and out onto the grounds, making their way down to Care of Magical Creatures.

"Or maybe they're just biding their time, so that just when everybody thinks they're safe…_bam!_" Fred shouted dramatically. Hope flinched from where she was walking ahead of them. "He strikes again..." he finished ominously. Her friends glanced over their shoulders warily, as though concerned the beast was going to apparate before them and attack right there on the school lawns in the middle of a sunny the day.

"Don't be a prick," Winona warned him, but he only grinned back roguishly and she knew it was pointless.

A few nights later Harry came up to her in the common room. She looked up from her drawing of a Niffler pocketing gold coins, eyebrows raised.

"What can I do for you, Boy-Wonder?" she asked him lightly, sitting up from where she was slouched in the couch cushions like she owned the place.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on something," he said, gingerly taking a seat beside her once she'd moved her legs and flattening out a crumpled piece of parchment. "Which electives do you think I should choose?" he asked.

She cast a look to the parchment, seeing it had each class option written in scrawled green letters. It looked identical to the one she'd gotten in second year, and not for the first time she wondered whether McGonagall did them all by hand.

"Why're you asking me?" she wondered. Harry gave no real answer, lifting his shoulders in a vague shrug.

"You must do Divination, right?" he assumed, because of the whole 'Seer thing'.

"I don't, actually," she told him, to his surprise. "I tried it in third year, but all the scents and teas and things in Trelawney's attic kept triggering visions," she revealed softly. "I had to drop it. Now I study with Trelawney once a month, alone, so as to not _alarm_ anyone."

"Oh," Harry murmured. "What do you take, then?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy."

"Are they good?"

"I'll be honest, you only want to take Arithmancy if you've got a serious passion for numbers. Otherwise you'll hate it."

"Duly noted. And Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Is brilliant, one of my favourite classes!" she told him enthusiastically. "I'd definitely recommend it." She paused, leaning closer. "I don't wanna say anything bad about it, since it's kind of what my whole world revolves around these days, but if you're looking for a class that's just an easy pass, Divination is the way to go," she whispered conspiratorially, "the whole thing is sort of a joke unless you're an actual Seer, which is rare, so I don't think you're in any danger."

Harry smiled, seeming to find amusement in her suggestion. "Sometimes I forget not all girls are like Hermione," he confessed with a grin, his emerald eyes sparkling.

"Hermione and I are what most would call 'polar opposites' when it comes to our studies," she admitted. "Besides, you don't need eight OWLs to be an artist!" she added at a normal tone, grinning and folding her legs up under herself, cradling her sketchbook in her lap.

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Winnie."

"Any time, Boy-Wonder," she told him lightly, and he smiled once more before heading back over to Ron and Hermione, the latter of which looked about ready to explode with anxiety.

She was just settling back into her sketching when a vision hit. It was a gentle one, all things considered, and she merely slipped into flickering darkness, scenes playing out before her eyes too fast for her to comprehend, her body lost to the current of time.

Next thing she knew she was blinking her eyes against the warm lighting in the common room, the twins sitting in front of her, watching her closely.

"There you are," Fred said when she met his eyes. "Welcome back," he added with a smile, the words slowly becoming something of a tradition between them.

"How long?" she asked quietly, glancing around and noticing that most of the people who had been in the room before were now gone, only some seventh years and a group of hard-at-work fifth years to be seen.

"About thirty minutes," George answered her.

"Did anyone-"

"Lee and Angelina, but we told them you were in a mood and to leave you alone."

Winona sighed in relief, finally allowing herself to glance down at her prediction. It was Hermione again – why did so many of her visions centre around Hermione, lately? – she was standing in a simple sweater, in the hospital wing. She looked older than she did now, her baby fat gone. Behind her was Ron, laying in a bed, his leg in a cast.

Some kind of strange necklace hung around Hermione's neck. She held the trinket on the chain carefully, like it were very valuable. It was like an hourglass, and Winona had unknowingly coloured it in shimmering gold, the only part of the piece that wasn't black and white.

She held it up, letting the twins have a look (there really were no secrets between them) and their eyes widened. "That's a Time-Turner," Fred said in an undertone, and she pulled back to get another look at her sketch.

"What's that?" she asked cluelessly, her years raised as a Muggle showing.

"Allows the wearer to turn back time a few hours," George revealed. "They're really rare. Dad says the Ministry rounded them all up, so it's nigh impossible to get your hands on one anymore."

"I'd better go show this to Dumbledore," she murmured, getting the strongest sense that that was what she should do.

"Can't you do it tomorrow?" Fred asked, but she was already climbing to her feet.

"I wanna do it now," she replied. "I'll see you in the morning!"

They tossed her vague farewells, but she was already climbing from the portrait hole. To make sure Dumbledore's office was always accessible to her, she was alerted whenever the password changed. It made her feel kind of like a VIP, and she very dearly wanted to inform Percy of this fact, just to watch him seethe with jealousy.

"Jelly Slugs," she said to the looming gargoyle, which leapt gracefully out of the way to reveal the staircase to Dumbledore's office.

She knocked on the large doors to his office, and Dumbledore's voice called for her to enter. The Headmaster was draped in casual red robes, sitting behind his ornate, claw-footed desk, a stack of paperwork lay at his side nearly a foot tall.

"Miss Andrews," he greeted her cordially, gesturing for her to take a seat. "Tea?" he asked once she was settled into the comfortable chair in front of his desk.

"Thank you, sir," she said politely, and he flicked his long, elegant wand, teapot and teacups appearing on his desk.

"Not worried it will keep you awake?" he asked gently, picking up the pot and pouring the tea by hand.

"Sleep isn't something I do much of anyways, regardless of what I drink beforehand," she admitted, never one to talk too much about her insomnia. She usually didn't mind it, she got her best work done in the early hours of the morning, just before the sun broke over the horizon, when everything was misty and silent. Sometimes she thought that was the closest she could ever get to true peace.

"I must admit, I'm glad for the interruption," Dumbledore told her kindly, thankfully not mentioning the comment on her sleeping pattern. "My hand was beginning to cramp from signing my name so many times."

Winona forced something of a polite smile, taking the offered teacup from him and swallowing a mouthful. It was made to perfection, as it always was.

"What can I do for you?" he finally asked, once he'd sipped his own tea and set the teacup back down into the saucer with a gentle _clink._

"I have a new drawing, sir," she said, pulling her sketchbook from where she'd stuffed it into her bag and flipping to the correct page.

Dumbledore stared at the sketch for a long minute, then nodded to himself and placed it gently onto the desktop.

"I feel that this one is incredibly important, Professor," she told him, trying to convey was else she was sensing. "I feel like it's important that I tell you – it's _imperative _that Hermione receives a Time-Turner next semester."

Dumbledore looked pleasantly curious. "And why do you feel the need to tell me this?"

Pausing, Winona considered how to respond. "I've been getting…sensations and…impressions, from my visions," she told him, something she'd, thus far, only told the twins. She hadn't even told Trelawney, and she had meetings with her once a month for this exact thing. Except, all they really did in those lessons was stare into crystal balls and drink bad tea. "I feel like with every passing vision, a new sense comes along with it. Sometimes it's telling me when it will happen, or where. Sometimes it's saying I need to warn a specific person about it."

"Have you discussed this with Professor Trelawney?" the Headmaster asked her calmly.

She hesitated, knowing he wouldn't like her answer. "No."

"I believe, in the next session you attend, it's important you discuss this with her," he told her, utterly relaxed.

She nodded once, agreeing without actually saying the words. "So, are you going to get Hermione a Time-Turner?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Do you know why she needs it?"

"To save lives," she said without thought, and Dumbledore hummed as if a theory of his had just been proven. "I don't know why I said that," she murmured, picking up her teacup and nervously draining what remained inside.

Dumbledore watched her, something behind his eyes. Was it impishness? Excitement? She couldn't put her finger on the emotion. It seemed almost smug, however, and she got the terrible feeling he was _enjoying_ having a Seer in his back pocket. Her insides turned to concrete.

"It shouldn't be difficult to procure a Time-Turner for Miss Granger for the coming school year," he finally said, the words slow, like they had all the time in the world. Although, she supposed, with such things as Time-Turners floating around, it wasn't even an exaggeration. "The Ministry will allow me use of one, strictly for a student's benefit – especially if that student is Miss Granger."

Winona sagged with relief at hearing this. Some part of her had to marvel at the fact that Dumbledore believed her – that he took on her blind, vague advice, and did something about it. It was an awful lot of power to be giving a fourteen year old, she thought suddenly, but banished the thought just as quickly.

"It is, however, critical, that you tell no one of this. Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Miss Andrews," he warned her, the words feeling ancient and heavy.

Feeling a flare of guilt, for she'd already heedlessly shown George and Fred, she merely set down her cup.

"I think I'll be going, Professor," she said gently. The Headmaster nodded his head, setting down his cup as well before picking up his wand, making an exact replica of her sketch – as he always did – then handing the book back to her with steady hands.

"I can walk you back to Gryffindor Tower, if you'd like," he offered, beginning to rise from his chair, so big and ornate, it was really more of a throne.

"No, no," she assured him, tucking her sketchbook back into her bag and heading fro the door. "It's fine."

Dumbledore looked wary, but inclined his head nonetheless.

"Sleep well, Professor," she told him kindly.

"You as well, Miss Andrews," he said gently, and she shot him a final smile before stepping out into the corridor, letting the doors shut after her.

She didn't feel scared wandering the castle alone, even though there was still a giant, Muggleborn killing monster on the loose. Perhaps, in the back of her mind, she almost believed she'd be able to sense if she were in any danger. She couldn't prove it – wasn't sure she even wanted to have the chance – but it made it a little easier to climb the changing stairs of the castle, heading for her common room.

She arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait safe and sound, slipping inside as quietly as she could. The common room was empty, the fire still crackling hotly in the corner. Winona made her way towards it, standing in the silence of the common room and soaking up its heat for a long few minutes before finally sighing and heading up to bed.

* * *

The day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had arrived, but instead of her usual excitement, Winona awoke with a feeling of intense dread. It sat heavy in her gut, like concrete bricks stacked atop her organs.

It was the beginning of May, and both Winona and the twins' birthdays – in March and April respectively – had passed with little fanfare.

It was difficult to celebrate when there was someone – and some_thing_ – inside the school, attacking Muggleborns, picking them off one by one. However, the twins were never ones to turn down the opportunity for a party, and still managed to take the risk and sneak into Hogsmeade through the secret tunnels to get butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks, and sweets from Honeydukes, throwing modest celebrations in the common room that mostly consisted of sipping warm butterbeer and playing endless tournaments of Exploding Snap.

Despite the castle's gloomy, anxious atmosphere, it was still one of the best birthdays Winona had ever had.

Looking in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, she noted that she was a few shades paler than usual, making her look washed out and sick. She grabbed Alicia's make up bag off the counter, sifting through it until she found some light blush. She spread the soft pink powder onto her cheeks with shaking hands, just to give herself a little colour so she looked less like she were dying.

All her friends were already gone, what with actually being on the Quidditch team, so Winona was left with no one but Lee and Hope to wander down to the pitch with. They were just passing the library, Lee chattering about the new Weird Sisters song, when she felt an unpleasant tingle run down the length of her spine.

"I'll meet you guys there," she said absently. Her friends were confused, but they didn't argue as she turned abruptly and headed into the library. She reached into the waistband of her jeans, gripping her wand and holding it in a tight grip. The hazel wood was warm and comforting under her fingers.

She wasn't sure what she was doing. It was like there was a hook in her gut, attached to a fishing line dragging her deeper into the castle. Like her instincts knew something the rest of her didn't.

The library was deathly silent, almost the entire student body on their way down to the Quidditch match. She absently thought that Fred and George would be worried, she was always there early enough so she could give them their traditional good-luck cheek kisses. She wondered what they would think when she didn't show up, but was distracted when a noise to her right startled her.

Spinning around with a gasp, a hex ready on the tip of her tongue, Winona came face to face with Hermione. The younger witch had wide, terrified eyes and a small mirror clutched in one shaking hand.

And she knew, instinctually and sharply, that her vision from months ago was happening _right now_.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, breathless. Winona quickly lowered her wand.

"That's a very good question," she said, swallowing and peering at the girl more closely. "Is everything okay?"

"I figured it out!" Hermione exclaimed, keeping her voice low enough not to attract Madam Pince's attention.

"That's great," Winona replied, still frowning. "Figured _what_ out?"

"The monster," she hissed, holding up the mirror and peering into it, shifting it from side to side to get a better view of the stacks behind her. "It's a Basilisk."

"I don't know what that is," she replied in the same hushed whisper, frustrated.

"It's like a giant snake. One look into its eyes will kill you," she told Winona quickly, for once just cutting to the chase and not giving her the whole, textbook definition.

Winona's insides swooped, and not in a good way. "Basilisks don't happen to have glowing yellow eyes, do they?"

Hermione's eyes flashed to her. "I thought you didn't know what they were."

"I didn't," she replied. "But that doesn't mean I haven't seen one before."

Another chill ran down Winona's spine, colder than ever, making horrible goosebumps appear across her skin and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Her mouth went dry and suddenly she knew, she just _knew,_ that they were in grave danger.

"Hermione, I need you to run," Winona whispered, feeling a protective instinct wash over her, glancing cautiously over her shoulder. Whatever she did now, it would either save or doom Hermione. She was hoping it would be the former. "Run down to the Quidditch Pitch, get McGonagall," she said, stepping closer and pressing a hand against Hermione's back, urging her forwards.

"What? Winnie-" she tried to argue. There was a quiet cough from a few rows over, and Winona knew they weren't alone. Somebody else was in danger too. Somebody utterly oblivious to it.

"Hermione, do as I say," she hissed, taking the mirror from Hermione's hand before pushing her in the direction of the doors. "Go, and_ don't look back_."

The second year desperately wanted to argue, but in the end she would always be a rule-follower, and she turned, racing from the library as fast as her little legs could carry her. Winona shut her eyes, took a deep breath in, then opened them and rounded the shelves, searching them for the other student.

"Penelope, right?" Winona asked, spying the Ravenclaw prefect in the Herbology section, and the girl looked up with a gasp. "Come with me," she said slowly, and although Penelope was shocked by the order, she obediently shut her book and climbed to her feet.

"You're Winona Andrews – Percy's brother's friend," she said, which was weird, because who recognised Winona through _Percy_?

"There's a Basilisk on the loose, and it's about to attack us," Winona decided not to sugarcoat it. "If you hear anything, shut your eyes immediately."

Penelope looked unsettled. "Is this one of your little jokes?" she asked, frowning deeply. "It isn't very funny," she said, but Winona was already shaking her head.

"We need to go _now_," she said just as a shelf across the room collapsed with a loud bang. "_Now_!" Winona cried. With a frightened gasp, Penelope dropped what was in her hands and darted for the door.

Winona ran, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the mirror, rather than in front of her. That was when she heard the hiss, saw the big, glowing, yellow eyes from her vision all those months ago, and everything went completely, horrifyingly dark.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed. This was my first real deviation from canon, and it's the first of many changes I'll be making to canon in this story. **

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews and messages last chapter. You turned a crappy week into a good one. As always, any feedback is so appreciated. Hearing from you guys fuels my writing fire. I've got some big things coming up, in this story and others, and I can't wait to share it all with you. See you soon!**


	18. This must be quite a shock

**A/N: Hey guys – back with a new chapter. This one is quite a lot smaller than my usual chapters – it's in Fred's POV, but really just a quick glimpse inside his head. And also, if you've recently left a review for me, know that I've reread it about thirty times since I saw it and that I love you eternally for taking the time to let me know you're enjoying the story!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"And you need to remember, focus on keeping their Keeper distracted – the girls can handle their Beaters themselves, you just need to give them the best shot at scoring and-"

Wood continued to rant, hands waving about in the air, a wild look in his eyes. George listened halfheartedly, but Fred had long since stopped paying attention. Without even realising he was doing it, his eyes restlessly scanned the Pitch.

"She probably just got caught up," George whispered to Fred, almost reading his mind, but he needn't have worried. Wood was so far gone he wouldn't have noticed an Erumpant if it charged across the field and exploded right in front of him. "You know what she's like."

And Fred did know what she was like; head perpetually up in clouds the same colour as her stormy eyes. But she never missed a game – and she certainly never missed the minutes before the game, when she'd smack ridiculous, dramatic kisses onto their cheeks for luck.

It was something of a tradition by this point, and while Fred knew it wasn't likely they'd lose the whole match just because they hadn't completed their silly little ritual, something in the back of his brain was itching at him. Telling him that he couldn't play today – not even just because she wasn't here to complete tradition, but because something was _wrong_.

"I've got a bad feeling," Fred told his brother, eyes still scanning the crowd. He wondered if she was here after all, but he'd done something to tick her off. He couldn't remember doing anything, but as much as he understood and adored his best friend – she was still a _girl_. In his experience, girls got angry about little things, and Fred knew he could be oblivious to those sorts of things.

But really, who could blame him?

"I'm sure she's fine," George insisted. "Get your head in the match. This is the big one."

Fred didn't answer, turning back to the nearly-empty Pitch and the stands beyond, scanning and scanning and scanning for a face he knew he wouldn't find.

The game was just about to begin when Fred caught sight of Harry – arriving a little late, but still on time enough for the match. By now Fred's gut was twisted up into knots, the sense that something _wasn't right_ laying heavily on his chest. He left George's side, his brother shouting something after him, but he just waved his hand back dismissively.

"Harry," he said, and the Seeker looked up, brow pinched above his green eyes. He remembered a few nights ago, sitting by the fire with Winnie as she sketched. She'd been complaining about Harry's eyes – she couldn't find the right mixture of paints of get the colour just right. The memory sent a pang through him, and he scowled.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, somewhat put off by the twist of Fred's mouth.

"Have you seen Win?" he asked without preamble.

Harry looked confused. "No?" he said, but it sounded like a question. "I thought she'd come down with you, or the girls," he added, nodding his head to where Katie, Angelina and Alicia were standing, still held captive by Wood maniacal ranting. "Do you think something's wrong?" Harry asked warily.

Fred didn't want to say yes, but he also didn't really want to lie. "Unclear," he settled for instead.

Harry's face scrunched, and for a brief moment he reminded Fred of Winnie. She made the same expression, usually in the same circumstances, too – whenever he made a bad joke or perplexing comment.

The resemblance made him blink, and just like that it was gone, Harry back in his place, staring at him expectantly. "S'just, we have this tradition…" he began to say, only to trail off when he realised how stupid he sounded. Now he was the one acting like a girl.

Harry looked vaguely amused. "I know."

Fred decided he wanted this conversation to end very much indeed. "Well, good luck up there," he said, a tad awkward. "How about we go win ourselves a Cup, eh?"

Harry laughed once, nodding in agreement, and Fred slapped him kindly on the shoulder. He'd just turned back to where George was standing – Wood having finally finished his rant and the girls beginning to take to the air – when he saw something barrelling across the pitch.

His insides leapt, but as he turned to get a better look he saw it was just McGonagall, he looked away disinterestedly – only to do a double take. Hermione was rushing along after her, and both looked rather stressed. McGonagall held a giant megaphone in her hand, and that feeling that something terrible was about to happen swooped through Fred again.

"_This match has been canceled_," McGonagall called through the megaphone, to immediate boos and hisses from the crowd. She couldn't have cared less for their reaction, and if Fred weren't so filled with terror, he might have been impressed. "_All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!_"

The rest of the team was gathered on the pitch now, and they watched as McGonagall lowered the megaphone and turned to look at them all. Fred could practically see the cogs turning in her head, like she was trying to make a decision. He didn't know what that decision might be, but he hoped it wasn't anything bad.

"Weasley and Weasley," their teacher finally said, looking more severe than Fred had ever seen her – which was certainly saying something, "you'd best come with me." Her dark eyes flickered with indecision before focusing in on Harry too, and Fred wondered if that was _sympathy_ he saw in those eyes. "You too, Potter."

There was only one reason that combination of students would be necessary, and Fred stopped breathing completely. Hermione was stood behind her, eyes glittering with tears, and Fred could swear he was about to pass out.

"Is she alive?"

He didn't realise it was him who had spoken until everyone in their small group turned to stare. McGonagall's eyebrows climbed her forehead, surprised maybe that he knew, or maybe just that he was so blunt about it.

He watched her debate with herself for a few moments before finally nodding her head. "Yes, Weasley," she assured him, sympathy in the words potent. "She's alive."

Like he were under a curse, Fred could only blindly follow the others up the hill back towards the castle. As they walked, Hermione began to talk, and it was like he were hearing it all from underwater.

"She just appeared from nowhere and told me to run – to get Professor McGonagall for help. I shouldn't have left her alone, but I was scared, and she's older so I thought she'd be okay. And she said she already knew what it was, because she'd had a vision about it," Hermione blurted.

Out of more instinct than purposeful thought, Fred glanced worriedly to McGonagall. The older witch didn't look in any way surprised to hear that Winnie experienced visions of any kind, and Fred knew he should have known Dumbledore would tell the Deputy Head Mistress. He rather got the sense that McGonagall was _his_ Winnie. Thinking that, he found he couldn't blame him.

They reached the Hospital Wing and McGonagall led them inside. Laying eyes on a cold, frozen Winnie, Fred's first thought was that this was the last place she would want to be. He wondered – distantly, in the way someone wonders about what they might have for dinner – whether he could convince Dumbledore to move her somewhere else.

But then he wondered where that somewhere might be, and he couldn't think of a single place in the whole castle that would make this any better. The only thing that would fix any of this was to have her back, awake and in one piece.

She was laid on her back on one of the beds, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, neck strained and expression echoing with terror. It made Fred's insides tighten and twist, and he looked away, out the nearest window. He could see the mountains in the distance; they didn't entrance him like they always seemed to entrance her, but it was easier to look at them than to look at Winnie.

Fred realised belatedly that George was already at her side, sat in the seat on her right, one hand held against her frozen hand, pain pinching his brow. Harry was stood on her left, hand resting on her shoulder like he didn't know where else to put it. Fred was left standing at the foot of her bed, hands tucked under his armpits, staring at it all without expression.

The Headmaster swept into the room, took one look at the scene, then went straight for Hermione. The girl looked so tired and stunned from the morning's events that she didn't even seem shy speaking directly with the most powerful man in the castle.

Dumbledore led Hermione over to the corner of the room where they could speak with a hint more privacy. Harry cast Winnie a final, despondent stare before following, and nobody tried to stop him.

"I know this must be quite a shock," said McGonagall, and Fred hadn't even realised she'd been standing there, watching them. He didn't look up at her, didn't want to see any pity. He wasn't in the mood. "I know how close the three of you are," their Transfiguration teacher continued, sad and sympathetic.

"How long until the Mandrakes are ready?" Fred demanded. He knew he was being rude, but honestly, when had that ever bothered him before?

"She'll be up and about in no time, Mr Weasley," McGonagall told him in an attempt to be reassuring. Fred didn't look up from Winnie's face. "Miss Granger said she seemed to know something?" she pressed delicately.

"If she did, Dumbledore would know it too," Fred said callously. "Why don't you ask him?"

McGonagall's lips pursed like she wanted to scold him for his tone, but she held back. "If she knew something was going to happen, why not tell a teacher?" she wondered, staring down at Winnie too, thoughtful.

"What she does doesn't always make sense," George spoke up. There was a warmth in his voice, hand still holding hers, squeezing tight even though she couldn't squeeze back. "But it's always for the right reasons."

"She did what she had to do to preserve the future," said Fred.

McGonagall looked taken aback. "What makes you say that, Mr Weasley?"

He could only shrug. "It's exactly the sort of thing she'd say."

"I need to go address the rest of your House about this matter," McGonagall continued. "I'll escort you back to Gryffindor Tower."

"I think we'll stay here," said Fred, short and uncompromising.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows, surprised but not angry. "I can guess how much you would prefer to stay with Miss Andrews, but I'm afraid it wasn't a request."

And Fred found he couldn't be bothered arguing the point. He'd just go back to the tower, stay for an hour to shake off any suspicion, then borrow Harry's cloak and sneak back when everyone had gone.

Dumbledore approached, a concerned looking Hermione and a resolute Harry following in his wake. "Mr Potter and Miss Granger are coming with me, professor," he told McGonagall in a rumbling, matter-of-fact voice. "We still have much to discuss."

Fred wondered what, exactly, it was they had to discuss, but he didn't have the energy to argue it now. He'd find out later. For now he just stared at Winnie's frozen body. He wondered if she were conscious, if she could hear everything happening around her. He wanted to say something – anything that might comfort her, but before he could conjure the words McGonagall's hand came down on his shoulder, urging him out.

"Come along, Weasley," she said quietly.

"Let's go, Fred," said George when he didn't move. "The others will wanna know what happened."

The mention of their friends was enough to get Fred moving. He followed George and their Head of House through the empty corridors of the castle they called home. Slowly, as they walked, the shock began to bleed away, turning into something much darker.

Anger gathered in his gut. Anger at the monster for attacking his best friend. Anger at Dumbledore for allowing the monster to remain in the school. Anger at Winona herself, fo walking knowingly into such a dangerous situation. The feeling coiled deep within him like the serpentine body of a snake, tension building as it threatened to strike. At what, he wasn't sure.

They arrived at the common room, and the twins were met with hurried questions that promptly fell away into nothing as McGonagall appeared through the portrait hole after them.

"If you'll all gather round," she called, pulling a roll of parchment from her robes and unwinding it as the Gryffindors nervously did as they were told. "From this point onwards, there are new rules in place in this castle," she began sternly. "They are to be followed by each and every student. There are no exceptions."

"Has there been another attack, Professor?" called Lee. Murmurs broke out amongst the crowd, and for once McGonagall's glare wasn't enough to silence them alone.

"Quiet, please," their teacher ordered them, and slowly the murmurs petered off into nothing. The Gryffindors stared at her, holding their collective breath. The delicate lines on McGonagall's face deepened, and for a moment Fred thought he saw grief shine in her eyes. "I'm afraid there _has_ been another attack," she told them briskly. "I'm sorry to say that two of our own – Penelope Clearwater and Winona Andrews – have joined the other petrification victims."

There was no stopping the outcry that rang throughout the tower, gasps and cries of horror from the two's friends. Lee went chalky and tears appeared in Alicia and Katie's eyes. Angelina dropped her head into her hands, and Ron, who stood directly across from Fred, had gone very still.

"This is most unfortunate," said McGonagall after a minute of allowing the students their reactions. "But keep in mind that this is temporary. Professor Sprout assures us the Mandrakes will be ready in only a handful of weeks. Those fallen prey to these attacks will be back with us soon."

With those words of comfort said, she turned her attention back to the parchment held in her white-knuckled hands.

"The new rules are as follows," she began. "All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

With that said, she rolled the parchment back up and cleared her throat.

"I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward," she finished briskly.

She climbed from the portrait hole and the moment the door had swung shut after her the room broke out in chatter. Fred and George were swarmed immediately, their peers eager to speak to the victim's partner in crime.

Fred's ears were deaf to all the questions thrown his way. George fielded them with ease, but all Fred could do was shove his way through the gathered crowd, making a beeline for the dorms. Before he could even reach the stairs, somebody stepped into his path.

"Where are Harry and Hermione?" Ron demanded.

"With Dumbledore," Fred told his brother quickly. "They'll probably be back soon."

"Dumbledore?" Ron echoed, not seeming to pick up on Fred's agitation. "Why?"

"Ask them yourself."

With that he shoved past his brother and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the dorm, using the moment alone to breathe deeply and remind himself that Winnie was fine. She was petrified, not dead. A few days – weeks at the most – and she'd be back to her usual self; paint stains and nicknames and secrets and all.

The door burst open and he knew his moment alone was over. His friends poured into the room. For the girls, it was their first time up in the boys' dorm. They weren't technically allowed, and while that had never stopped Winnie, none of them had ever had reason enough to break the rule.

George must have answered their more immediate questions, because they weren't hounding him for answers of his own. The girls still looked teary-eyed, but there was a strange shadow over Lee's face.

"Do you think they'll let us go see her?" Alicia was asking quietly.

"Maybe tomorrow," George said, patting her gently on the back as she rubbed at her eyes, smudging the makeup there.

"It's just so surreal," said Lee, leaning against the poster of his bed, arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face. "One moment she's there, walking down to the pitch with us, and now she's _frozen_."

Something about what he'd said flipped a switch deep in Fred's chest. "What do you mean, she was with you?" he demanded.

Lee seemed surprised by the vehemence with which he spoke, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "Me and Hope were walking down to the pitch with her, like usual. She stopped as we were leaving the castle, said she'd meet us there and disappeared off in the direction of the library."

The anger reappeared, surging in Fred's chest like a flash of Fiendfyre. "And you let her go?!" he snarled, crossing the space between them, footsteps heavy on the wood.

Lee's eyes went wide and he took a hurried step backwards, hands held up in surrender. George stepped in Fred's path, palms braced against his chest, stopping his approach. Fred met his twin's eyes, seeing his unspoken plea as if it were written on his skin.

"This isn't Lee's fault, Fred, and you know it," George said aloud, using the same soothing voice he as when Winnie had a particularly bad vision. It worked better than he'd expected it to.

Sense came back to him, the roar of fiery anger fading to a dull, flickering flame somewhere in his chest. "Yeah," he said, but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears. "I know. Sorry, mate," he aimed the words in Lee's general direction.

His friend didn't seem angry, he just seemed understanding, maybe even a little pitying. Somehow that was even more exhausting to deal with than the alternative. Fred suddenly hoped they'd all just leave so he could go to sleep.

"W-what are we going to do without her?" asked Katie after a few long moments of silence. The words were like a nasty jinx to Fred's system, and his throat suddenly felt tight.

"She's not _dead_, Katie," George reminded her, just a little bit sharp. "She's only petrified. She'll be up and about in no time, along with everyone else who was attacked."

If the news hadn't made Katie so pale, she might have blushed. "Yeah, I know," she said quickly. "S'just hard, is all."

George's stern expression melted, and he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around the younger girl's shoulders and pulling her into a warm side hug. Fred watched his friends as they came to terms with the fact that Winnie had been attacked right from under their noses.

The atmosphere was tense and sombre, and for once Fred didn't feel the unrelenting urge to break the ice. Instead all he felt was useless and tired, and he knew one thing for certain. It was going to be a terribly long few weeks.

* * *

**A/N: Like I said, much shorter than usual, but don't worry, I'll be back really soon with the final chapter set in the Chamber of Secrets book. That will be a lot longer to make it up to you. I hope you enjoyed! **

**And also, just because I'm curious, I've had a few messages with people inquiring about specific fandoms they wanted me to write for. So, out of curiosity, if you would want to read an OC story much like the others I've done in the past, for which fandom/character would you want it to be?**

**Don't worry, I'm still working tirelessly on this piece and my _Heart of the Storm_ sequel. But I have a few others in the works, and I'm intrigued to know if any of my side projects are things any of you are interested in. Thanks again, and I'll see you soon with another chapter! xx**


	19. Be bad, cause trouble

Winona jolted awake with a loud gasp. Her eyes stung and her lungs ached and her whole body felt sluggish. Not understanding where she was or what was happening, she shakily pushed herself until she was sitting upright.

"Easy there, Miss Andrews," Pomfrey's familiar voice was saying in her ear as she desperately sucked in air like she'd just been held underwater for a month. "Deep breaths, you're all right," the nurse was saying soothingly.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Winona finally managed to croak, her dry throat burning like fire.

"You were petrified, dear," Pomfrey told her patiently.

"Right," she nodded, suddenly remembering glancing into that small mirror and seeing those big, haunting yellow eyes, then recalling a darkness that never seemed to end. "How long have I been…out?" she asked hoarsely, lifting a hand up to brush her limp hair out of her face, blinking her eyes in an effort to lessen their stinging.

"A little less than a month," the nurse told her, handing her a small vial of something blue. "Drop this into your eyes," she instructed her, and Winona was quick to do as she was told. The burning in her eyeballs disappeared and she sighed with relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Winona croaked. "Tired and sore, but otherwise fine."

"Well, they're having a feast downstairs, in celebration, so you're free to go join them-"

"In celebration of what?" Winona asked, not understanding.

"The monster of Slytherin is dead," Pomfrey told her matter-of-factly. "The chamber has been shut, and Miss Weasley is safe."

Winona didn't know what Ginny had to do with anything, but she sagged with palpable relief anyway.

"Take things slow," the nurse warned as she climbed, slightly unsteady, to her feet. "Drink lots of water."

"Thank you!" she said sincerely, but she was more focused on finding her friends. The walk down to the Great Hall was lovely – the beast was gone; even if Madam Pomfrey hadn't told her, she thought that she would have been able to tell. She could feel it in the walls, the castle lighter than it had been before, and she felt a sense of healing floating in the air like a scent.

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity and chatter, and almost everybody was wearing their pyjamas, which made her smile and think about how she wished every dinner at school could be this casual. It seemed much more her speed.

"Winona!" it was Ron who spotted her first, standing to his feet to grin at her across the Gryffindor table.

"Hey-" Winona could barely get the word out before something large, firm and warm slammed into her side, squeezing her so tightly that her breath left her in a huff.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Fred was breathing into her hair, holding her close.

"Hey Freddie," she said, the words muffled with her face pressed into his old Puddlemere United sweatshirt, the skin beneath radiating warmth.

"You are _never_ allowed to do anything like that, _ever_ again," he told her sternly, pulling back so he could peer down at her closely, but even through the severity of it his eyes glittered with relief. "You hear me, Win?" he asked. He needed to hear her say it.

"Okay, next time there's a Basilisk on the loose, I'll be sure to tell it that you said as much," she laughed, punching his shoulder affectionately.

A hand grasped her arm, pulling her away from Fred and into another tall, warm body. George swept her up in a hug, pulling back much quicker than his brother had to shoot her his most stern, exasperated look. "You just had to go be a hero, didn't you?"

"It's a problem," she joked. George was stepped out of the way to reveal Hermione, the younger witch staring up at her with tears in her caramel eyes. "Hey," Winona greeted her cheerfully, and Hermione's lower lip trembled.

"If you hadn't been there..." Hermione began to say, overcome by emotion. She sniffled quietly. "It might have been me," she murmured, her voice catching. "I don't know how to thank you."

Winona smiled and simply took a seat on the empty space of bench. "Pass me the carrots, would you?" she asked her casually. Although Hermione's eyes were still wet, she smiled as she took a seat beside her, handing over the bowl of carrots as the twins happily took seats on her other side.

She greeted Angelina, Katie and Alicia, all of whom went a bit misty-eyed at the sight of her, but she politely pretended not to notice, hugging them each in turn and then bumping fists with Lee, who told her blithely that she made a handsome statue. Alicia slapped him round the head, but Winona only laughed.

The air filled with the twins' woeful, overdramatic cries about how much they missed her, and with pink cheeks Winona dug into her food, quite literally not having eaten in a whole month. Soon enough McGonagall was announcing that exams had been cancelled, much to everyone's – except Hermione's – elation.

"You'll have to tell me everything, you realise," Winona told Harry just as the remains of dinner disappeared, replaced by an array of colourful, delicious desserts that everybody immediately leapt for. He smiled at her from where he sat opposite her and beside Ron, his best friend stuffing jelly and ice cream into his mouth at an incredible pace. "I'll want the whole story."

"Well, after we found you-" Harry began to explain.

"It can wait," she interrupted him gently, casting a soft smile across the table. "For tonight, let's just enjoy the feast."

Harry grinned back and Winona relaxed, listening happily as Fred made an off-colour but hilarious joke about Lockhart, allowing herself to laugh loudly, the feeling of lingering evil now gone from her mind, replaced by a homely warmth that came from spending time with her friends – the only real family she'd ever known.

The next day she sat down with the Golden Trio to hear about the entire adventure at length. As they told her about Ginny, Winona felt her insides turn cold. The thought of Voldemort possessing the youngest Weasley, making her do all those terrible things – it just about made Winona sick.

Harry explained what had happened down in the chamber, cheeks turning pink as the twins cheered loudly when he described killing the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor.

"Wait," said Winona, digging into her ever-present bag and fishing out her sketchbook. Cracking it open to the right page, she showed the sketch to Harry, eyebrows raised. "Is that the sword?" she wondered.

Harry looked surprised – which she thought was funny, considering everything. "Yeah, that's what it looks like."

"You knew the sword would come to Harry when he needed it?" Ron asked, brow furrowed like he was angry at her for not mentioning it sooner.

"I didn't _know_," she reminded him. "How was I meant to figure _that_ out from this one drawing alone?"

The tips of Ron's ears went pink and he fell quiet, leaving Harry to finish up the last of his story. He's just gotten to the end, right up to the day she'd woken up, when a seventh year appeared by their side.

"Headmaster wants to see you in his office, Andrews," the older girl said, a curiosity in her dark eyes, like she couldn't fathom why Dumbledore would want to speak with _her_.

"Thanks," Winona replied, and with a nod she wandered away. "I'd better go see him – I'm sure he'll want the full debrief," she told the others.

"What _is_ the debrief, anyway?" Hermione asked, quizzical and expectant. "How did you know to come find me at that exact moment?"

Winona glanced at the clock, but decided Dumbledore could wait the extra time it would take to explain. "I drew a picture of you with the mirror you were holding ages ago," she confessed. "I didn't know exactly what it meant, but sometimes I get _feelings_ along with the visions, and I knew the picture didn't mean anything good. It was all rather instinctual, really."

"So you just, _knew_?" Hermione asked, skeptical.

"50% of all my premonitions are just gut feelings," she told her honestly. "I knew you were going to be in danger, and I knew I had the power to stop it."

"Did you know you'd get petrified?" Harry wondered.

"No, that was just an unfortunate side effect of saving Hermione."

Hermione winced, and Winona knew guilt when she saw it.

"Really, Hermione," she insisted. "I'm fine. It was rather like napping for a month. It wasn't the end of the world."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but Winona knew she probably wasn't going to convince the guilt away and gave up trying.

"I'd better get to Dumbledore before he sends someone else after me." She stood to her feet, casting them a smile. "See you later."

She was almost at the portrait hole when the familiar forms of Fred and George appeared in her path. "Where d'you think you're going?" George asked her in the tone of a suspicious parent catching their kid trying to sneak out in the middle of the night.

"I've been summoned," she told him, eyebrows arched.

The pair exchanged a glance, communicating without words. "We'll come with you," said Fred decisively. Winona kind of wanted to argue, but one look into their eyes told her it was pointless, so with a sigh she nodded her head and gestured for them to lead the way out the portrait hole.

"Is this how it's going to be, now?" she wondered as they set off in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "A protection detail glued to me wherever I go?"

"Well, if you stopped getting yourself petrified by Basilisks, maybe we'd cut you some slack," said George primly, and although amusement danced in his eyes, she knew he was mostly serious.

"It was _one_ time," she said, exasperated. "Will I ever live it down?"

Neither of the twins answered her, and Winona realised suddenly that maybe she'd been too cavalier about the whole thing. She tried to put herself in their shoes for a moment. How would she be holding up if one or both of them had been, essentially, nothing but a human statue for the last month and a bit? The twins were good at putting on a front, and she realised they were doing it right now, in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she told them as they walked the halls of the school, padding slowly in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "I know if it'd been one of you two instead of me, I'd have been a wreck."

The twins exchanged a glance over the top of her head, any and all levity sucked from the air. This was one of their more serious moments, and she felt sombre with the weight of it.

"Seeing you there, on that hospital bed…" Fred trailed off, sticking his hands firmly into his pockets and looking away.

"Fred tried to petition Dumbledore to keep you somewhere other than the hospital wing," said George. Winona looked up in surprise, glancing first at George, then back over at Fred.

"You did?"

The tips of Fred's ears had turned red. "Well, I know how much you hate hospitals – I thought, even though you weren't conscious, in some way you might feel better somewhere else," he muttered, eyes narrowed in a glare at his self-satisfied twin. "Whatever," he said dismissively. "It isn't a big deal."

Winona disagreed. It was a very big deal to her, but they weren't typically what she would call 'sappy' people. He'd only be embarrassed if she thanked him, or tried to tell him that was incredibly sweet of him. So instead she wound her arm through his, holding onto him as they walked, saying thank you without words.

It was a Saturday and the sun was shining down on all of Hogwarts, so most students were out enjoying the weather and lack of exams. The three friends passed a group of Slytherins on the way up the main staircase, and when they jeered rudely the twins merely shot them a rude hand gesture before continuing on their way.

The door to Dumbledore's office stood unassuming, and Winona was surprised to realised that it _felt_ like a month since she'd been there last, even though to her conscious memory it'd barely been a full three days.

"Think you can make it up the staircase without getting petrified by a Basilisk?" Fred asked as she unwound her arm from his, turning to look at the pair of them in fond amusement.

"Somehow I think I'll manage," she said lightly. "And don't you two dare wait out here for me to come back down," she added, pointing a stern finger at them in warning. "I can walk back to the common room on my own, thank you."

George held up his hands in surrender while Fred just rolled his eyes. With a final grateful grin, Winona left them, saying the password to Dumbledore's stone gargoyle and hopping onto the moving stares beyond.

Dumbledore was standing by Fawkes when she entered his office, the phoenix quietly nibbling at some birdseed. Dumbledore turned to look at her, and if he was annoyed that she'd taken so long to meet him, he didn't let it show.

"Miss Andrews," he greeted her pleasantly, sweeping an arm towards her usual chair. "Tea?"

"Please," she said, and he flicked his wand, the tea beginning to magically make itself.

"I trust you're feeling better?" he asked, taking a seat in his large, magnificent chair.

"Much," she agreed. He gave a ghost of a smile and said nothing more, waiting until their teacups had floated over to each of them, the scene utterly tranquil. Winona took a healthy sip of her tea, which was, as always, made to perfection. She got the feeling Dumbledore was waiting for her to begin, so she set her teacup on the saucer with a clink and thought about what to say.

She didn't want to go on about the Basilisk, or how it had been in the castle, undetected by the so-called 'greatest wizard alive' for so long. Dumbledore wouldn't give her any straight answers, anyway. Instead she settled for talking about something else, something that he probably hadn't expected her to ask.

"Professor, is it possible that my visions aren't…set in stone?" she asked quietly.

She could tell the Headmaster was intrigued, if only by the spark ignited in his twinkling blue eyes. "Please elaborate," he said, and she looked down into her lap as she attempted to put words to her messy jumble of thoughts.

"I had a vision that Hermione was going to be attacked by the Basilisk," she revealed carefully, tracing her fingertip along the rim of her teacup. "So I went to find her, attempting to stop it, and…it worked," she said with a blink. "It got _me_ instead."

She didn't look up to gauge Dumbledore's reaction, but kept her eyes on her tea, listening carefully as she waited for the Headmaster to respond.

"True Seers are incredibly rare, Miss Andrews," he began mildly. "I don't believe you understand just _how _rare. I would say we'd be lucky to see but one every other generation."

She looked up, curiosity in her eyes, tracing her fingers on the ceramic rim of the teacup.

"Because of this, little is known about the way their unique brand of magic works," he explained patiently. "But, I would think it is entirely plausible that the glimpses into the future you are given are but _possibilities_, the likelihood of which are based on the decisions of those involved."

Winona wasn't totally sure she was following, and her face must have given that away.

Dumbledore gave somewhat of a penitent smile. "I suppose it comes down to your belief system," he explained gently. "Why do you think you get these visions, Winona?"

Thrown by the question, Winona was quiet for a beat. "I don't know," she murmured, averting her eyes again as she thought. She'd never really considered that maybe there was a _reason _she was given this prior knowledge, that there was a _reason_ she saw things before they happened, even if they didn't fully make sense at the time.

Now that she considered it, she supposed there was really only one answer that made any sense.

"I suppose I get them so I can prepare myself, and everyone else, for what's to come," she said, thoughtful.

"And then, maybe even _change_ what's to come?" the Headmaster suggested quietly. She could feel the heavy weight of those endless eyes focused on her, but refused to look up. "So perhaps your original question has merit," he continued on evenly, in a conversational voice. "Perhaps your visions aren't, as you say, _set in stone._"

This, more so then anything they'd ever discussed before, made her realise the true burden of her gift. If she was destined to know the future, perhaps she was also destined to change it. And what a weight that should prove to become…

* * *

The rest of the term passed quickly, being that there were only a matter of days remaining, and before Winona knew it, it was the night before they were to catch the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross.

She desperately wanted to sketch – just knowing she'd gone nearly a month without sketching anything made her desperately want to catch up, even if she hadn't actually been aware of time passing. Instead, she knew it was important to spend the time with her friends, and so Fred and George snuck her out of the common room and down to the kitchens one last time for the school year.

"You think next year will be quieter?" Winona asked as she licked the ice cream from her spoon.

"Nah," Fred and George replied, and she laughed without inhibition.

Ginny found her later that night, looking a mighty lot happier than she had throughout the rest of the year, but still wearing a slight frown. "All right, Ginger?" Winona asked, looking away from where Angelina was telling the others about her summer plans.

"Can we talk?" Ginny asked. Winona was quick to nod her head, standing to her feet to leave the larger group and leading Ginny over to an unoccupied chair in the corner.

"How are you?" she asked her gently, and the redhead gave a small smile.

"I'm alright," she spoke quietly. "I'm coping," she said with a wisdom well above her mere age of eleven. "I was wondering if I could write to you over the summer?" she asked suddenly, a determined look on her pretty face. Winona didn't say anything for a moment, and Ginny rushed to elaborate. "It's just, I found that writing my thoughts down really helped me this year…even if the whole time I _was_ getting possessed by You-Know-Who…"

"You can write to me any time, Ginny," Winona assured her softly. "You don't have to ask. I'd love to hear from you."

Ginny smiled, relieved.

"Do you want to know a secret?" she asked the younger girl, who looked curious at the change of topic. She nodded nonetheless and Winona fished out her sketchbook, looking over her shoulder to make sure none of the other Weasleys were snooping, then flipping it open to the most recently used page.

The Weasley family stood, all nine of them, dressed in foreign robes, grinning at what was obviously a camera. In clear view behind them stood the Great Pyramids, and Ginny peered down at it excitedly.

"I drew it last night," she confessed quietly. "Haven't told the twins. I thought I'd let them be surprised."

"When will this happen?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"Sometime over the summer," Winona replied with a grin. "Don't tell anyone," she added, pressing a finger to her lips. Ginny agreed, eyes alight with excitement at both what the future held, and the fact that Winona had entrusted her, and only her, with this knowledge.

The train ride back to Kings Cross was long, and Fred, George, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Winona all shared a compartment. They passed the time by eating sweets that Harry kindly bought from the trolley and playing rounds of Exploding Snap.

Hermione sat by the window, head in a book though she was clearly listening, tutting with exasperation every time the twins made an off-colour joke. Winona spent some of it sketching, making a caricature of all of them together, then duplicating it and passing the rough but amusing sketch around for everyone to keep.

She noticed Harry gently tuck his away like it was more than a thoughtless scribble for some laughs, but then again, she knew what kind of environment he was going back into, and figured he could use something to cheer him up when things got too much to bear. She understood what that was like, better than anyone else could have.

The girls noticed how close they were to the station, and Hermione picked up the stack of books she was using, standing to put them back in her bag, only it was too high for her to reach. Winona took them, but paused herself when she realised that she couldn't quite reach it either.

Fred sniggered at the pair of them but took the books nonetheless, reaching up with his freakishly long arms to put them away.

"Ginny — what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?" Harry spoke up as the train began to slow.

"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well — Percy's got a girlfriend."

Fred dropped the stack of books on George's head, and Hermione tutted before bending down to pick them up and dust them off. The others turned to stare at her in amazement.

"What?" Fred asked, bewildered.

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," his sister continued. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was — you know — attacked," there was a brief pause where nobody quite knew what to say, then she said anxiously, "you won't tease him, will you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, too innocent to be believable.

"Definitely not," agreed George, sniggering.

"Come on, you imps," Winona laughed, giving George a shove towards the door. They cackled to each other as they moved out onto the platform. "I'll say goodbye now," she said to the trio of second years. "Have a nice summer, and write to me if you need anything _at all_," she added firmly, the trio nodding obediently.

"You'll owl if you have any more visions, right?" Harry asked in a low tone.

She grinned, nodding her head. "Promise," she told him as she held a sombre hand over her heart.

Harry and Ron smiled, and she held up her hand for a fist-bump each, which they reluctantly gave her, before Hermione drew her into another hug as the boys turned to collect their luggage.

"I really can't thank you enough-" the brightest witch of her age was saying gratefully, but Winona merely squeezed her back before pulling away and winking.

"I'll see you later," she told her, and Hermione smiled again before she turned to leave the compartment.

"Winnie, wait!" Harry said, and she paused, turning to look at him expectantly. He held out a small slip of ripped parchment, and when she looked down she saw it was a hastily scrawled phone number. "You know how to use a phone, right?" he asked hesitantly. She laughed, which was answer enough. "Just…it'd be nice to talk to someone other than my Aunt and Uncle over the summer, for once," he told her.

There was a banging on the window and Winona looked to see the twins waving at her impatiently. "Thanks Harry," she told him. "I'll give you a call," she promised, before shooting the trio a final grin and leaving the compartment, heading out onto the bustling platform.

"Oh, Winona, dear," Mrs Weasley was the first to find her, pulling her into a warm hug. "I heard what happened, I'm sorry I haven't seen you sooner," she began, but Winona only shook her head with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Completely fine, Mrs Weasley," she swore, and the plump woman gave a motherly smile before her attention was dragged away by Percy and Ron, who were just arriving with their things in tow.

"You'll come visit, right?" Fred was suddenly at her side, speaking loudly so he could be heard over the loud buzzing of the crowd on the platform.

" 'Course," she replied, pushing herself up onto her toes to drag her best mate into a hug. She held on tightly, subtly inhaling his familiar scent of gunpowder and fresh soil before pulling back and doing the same to George. "Write me?"

"Every other hour, on the dot," George said with another snicker. Winona punched him before spinning around to glance at the time.

"Gotta go," she told them, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. "Be bad, cause trouble!" she yelled over the noise, and she saw them give final, large beams before she stepped through the barrier into the Muggle world.

* * *

Her foster parents were just as awful as always, but she was so used to it that it didn't matter. She had her art to keep her company, and her letters to and from her friends.

It was two weeks into the Summer, however, that she snuck down to steal the phone from its place in the kitchen, dialling in Harry's number and listening to it ring.

"Hello?" a grumpy voice answered, sounding like the last thing its owner wanted to be doing was talking on the phone.

"Hi, my name's Winona. I'm looking for Harry?" she said carefully.

"You're not from that _bloody_ school, I hope?" the disembodied voice thundered, the sound riddled with disdain. "I won't have people of _your_ sort calling this house."

"I understand," she replied, eyes narrowed into slits he couldn't see. "I suppose I'll just have to apparate to your house instead," she bluffed, and the grumpy voice fell silent. "Oh, that's right, you're a Muggle," she said with just as much disdain as him. "It means I'll spontaneously appear in your house. But I do get the coordinates wrong sometimes. I could end up in your lounge, your kitchen, or even your bathroom-"

"Boy!" shouted the voice.

There was a series of angry muttering and careful threats on the other end until finally Harry's voice appeared. "Hello?" he asked hopefully.

"Hey, Boy-Wonder," she greeted him, her smile much more natural.

"Winnie – hi," he replied, bright and happy. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she told him, unthinkingly rolling her shoulder, where a large bruise sat, covered by her Weasley jumper. "You?"

"Ugh," he simply made a sound of intense disgust and she had to laugh, understanding more than he knew.

"Your uncle sounds like a real top-notch bloke," she said sarcastically, and he gave a grumble of vague agreement on the other end. "Say, you feeling up for an adventure?"

"Honestly, I've had enough adventure for one lifetime," he replied mildly, and it made her grin. "But what were you suggesting?"

"You're in Little Whinging, right?" she asked instead.

"Yeah?"

"I'm only a few suburbs away," she confessed with a smile. "What do you say? Feel like getting away from the Muggles and going to get some ice cream with me?"

"You have _no_ idea how great that sounds," he gushed, the words heavy with relief.

Winona laughed. "It's still early – I can catch the train and be at yours in about a half hour? What's your address?"

Harry relayed it to her and she scribbled it down on her hand before letting him know she'd be there soon and hanging up.

Her foster parents were upstairs, getting ready for work. She crept back up to her room and took a lightning shower before changing into paint-stained jeans and a teeshirt, then grabbing her wallet and quietly leaving the house. They might ask where she went if they ever noticed she'd left, but that wasn't very likely.

It was only a few stops to Harry's house, and she glanced again at the address etched onto her palm, making sure she had the right house before making her way up to the door. She lifted her hand to knock but it was pulled open before she could make contact, Harry looking breathless and excited in the doorway. Clearly he'd been watching for her, and the thought made her smile.

"Hey Boy-Wonder," she greeted him brightly.

When Harry smiled back, it was tinged with relief, like he'd been held underwater this whole time, and it was only now, seeing her, that he could breathe. It was strangely heartwarming, but probably said more about his home environment than it did about her. "Hey Winnie," he said, voice ringing with relief. "Ready to go?"

Before Winona could answer, the sound of heavy feet against the floor reached them, heading in their direction. Harry shut his eyes in defeat just as a whale of a boy appeared over his shoulder, eyes narrowed in suspicion that quickly morphed to surprise and then back to suspicion.

"Who're you?" he demanded rather rudely.

"I'm a friend of Harry's," she told him hotly, eyes just daring him to doubt it. "Who're you?" she asked, just as tart.

The boy was surprised by the way she spoke to him, and she wondered what it might be like, to have grown up being treated with so much unwavering respect that you felt you were entitled to it.

"I'm Dudley," the boy told her, blinking stupidly. "How can _you_ be friends with _him_?"

Winona's eyes narrowed, and Harry recognised the look on her face as the same one the twins got just before somebody was about to rue the day they'd crossed them, and he hurried to interrupt. "We were just leaving," he said quickly, taking a step out of the house.

Before he could get very far, however, Dudley shot out an arm and gripped him by the back of his shirt.

Winona didn't hesitate. She pulled her wand from her waistband, holding it threateningly in Dudley's face. The kid's eyes went wide and watery, his pudgy cheeks drained of colour. "You, you're…" he stammered, struggling to form a sentence.

"Going to turn you into a toad if you don't let go of my friend," she finished for him. Beginning to tremble, Dudley quickly let go of his cousin's shirt. Harry shrugged as if to try to forget his touch and stepped out into the day with Winona.

Winona didn't lower her wand, challenge in her eyes. Dudley gulped. "Dad!" he shouted back into the house, shrill with panic, and Harry was quick to grip her wrist and forcibly lower her wand.

"Let's go," he said urgently just as great, thudding footsteps wracked the house, like the foreboding stomping of an approaching dinosaur.

Winona agreed, pocketing her wand and letting Harry lead the way back towards the train station. The rare sun shone down on them, and they hurried around the corner before the dinosaur could see them, laughing to themselves quietly.

"You weren't actually going to use magic outside of school, were you?" Harry asked once they'd paid for their tickets and just barely slipped through the doors of the train to London before they shut.

Winona snickered. "Nah," she said lightly. "He's not worth getting expelled over. I probably would have just punched him."

Harry laughed, taking himself by surprise. Winona reached into her ever-present bag of art supplies as they took seats near the middle of the almost-empty carriage, pulling out a pair of sugar quills.

"Do you want raspberry or orange?" she offered, holding out a red and an orange one respectively.

Harry took the orange with a grateful smile, and she grinned back easily as she reclined back in her seat, throwing her feet up on the chair beside her. Talk was easy as they made their way into London.

With the carriage mostly empty, there wasn't anybody close enough to hear them talking about spells and wands and magic. They spoke freely about Hogwarts and what they missed most when they had to come back to the Muggle world for the summer.

"I wish I could just stay at Hogwarts over the summer," said Harry at one point. "I'd rather be there alone than stuck with the Dursleys for three months of the year."

"That's a no go," Winona told him casually, gesturing with her sugar quill like punctuation to her words. "I already tried to convince Dumbledore back in first year. He won't give."

They were halfway to their stop when the tone shifted, but it wasn't unexpected. Winona knew they couldn't _not_ bring it up. In the end it was Harry who tripped onto the subject first.

"I'm really hoping we have a better DADA teacher next term," he was saying eagerly. "Lockhart was useless; it's awful he lost his memory like that, but at least he can't come back to teach anymore."

It was a strange way to look at it, but something about the grim humour of it all made Winona smirk. Harry's smile, however, dimmed. He'd surprised himself by bringing it up, the first reference either of them had made to the Chamber of Secrets incident. Maybe he'd been consciously trying to keep from talking about it. Winona was no shrink, but that couldn't be healthy.

She let the silence reign a few moments, the pair quietly sucking on their sugar quills, lost in thought. "I never thanked you," she finally said, and Harry looked up in surprise.

"Huh?"

"For saving Ginny," she elaborated. "The Weasleys…they mean a lot to me," she said, looking out at the world flying past them out the window. "It's hard to put into words, but all of them – they're important to me. Losing any one of them, it's…it's unthinkable."

Harry was quiet a moment, but when he spoke up there was an edge of impishness to his voice. "Even Percy?"

Surprised, Winona laughed. "Hmm…" she pondered it playfully, "debatable."

Harry laughed too, but the sound tapered off into nothing, the sombre atmosphere swallowing them up once again. The quiet stretched on, but Winona didn't mind. She tried to think of something to say that didn't sound intrusive.

"You can talk to me about it, if you want," she finally offered. Harry looked away from the window to meet her eyes, and she smiled softly. "You don't have to, but you don't have to avoid it, either."

Harry was frowning, the look far too old on his youthful, rounded face. "I though you might not want to, y'know, cause…" he trailed off, a lot more delicate about it than she was.

"Cause I got turned into a human statue for a month?" she said bluntly. Harry smiled wanly, like he wasn't sure it was something he should be smiling about. "I'm not traumatised or anything," she assured him with a shrug. "It was pretty much just like passing out and waking up a month later."

Harry sat up straighter. "I never thanked you either," he said. Winona's brow furrowed in confusion, and he hurried to explain. "For saving Hermione. Really," he insisted at her shrug. "Without Hermione, we wouldn't have been able to figure it out."

"Yeah, you would have," she said dismissively.

"Well, not as quickly, anyway," he said, then paused, like he wanted to say more but wasn't sure how to put it into words. "And, er, she's my friend," he added in the awkward voice of a preteen boy who wasn't quite comfortable admitting to something as complex and embarrassing as _feelings,_ "and I'm really glad you saved her. So, thank you."

Winona smiled, charmed by his adorable sheepishness. "Enough of the thanks," she said, waving her hand as if to bat it all away. "But if you did wanna talk about it – any of it – my door is always open."

Harry scrunched up his face. "What door?" he asked, and she thought he was serious until she saw the glint of unexpected mischief in his emerald eyes, and grinned.

"Funny," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. Harry only chuckled.

That day they got ice cream, strolling through Hyde Park as they ate and talking about nothing specific. Eventually, as the day went on, Harry began to open up about the year he'd had and that fateful day down in the chamber deep within their school.

He told Winona about fighting the Basilisk, how it was bigger than any monster he'd ever seen before, how terrified he'd been. He told her about the venom and how it had felt like fire in his bloodstream. About how finding Ginny laid there, helpless and inches from death, was one of the scariest things he'd ever seen. How he'd looked into the eyes of the ghost of the man that had taken everything from him and seen only boundless hate.

Winona bought him another cone of ice cream after hearing that one, and they sat by the lake as the conversation moved to lighter topics.

And she found that it was easy, almost alarmingly so, to spend time with Harry. It wasn't like being with her other friends, all mischief and laughter and dirty jokes and gossip. It was different to that, _deeper._ It was like speaking to somebody without needing to think, without needing to put up defences against embarrassment or having to worry about politeness.

It was like something in Harry's soul called to her own, like whatever they were made of, theirs were the same.

And when they bought chips and ate them in a square filled by hungry, squawking pigeons, Winona realised that it was exactly like spending time with the family she'd never gotten to have. And she knew that come what may, she was on Harry's team for life.


	20. Talk about cutting it close

About a week ago, Winona had had a vision. This wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, but it seemed to be happening with more and more frequency every passing day.

She'd drawn Harry sitting at the Ice Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley, completely alone. The sense she got from it was a kind of bittersweet sadness. Harry was happy, but he was also lonely. She may not have been Harry's _best_ friend, but they were close, especially after the Summer they'd just had.

They spent at least one day a week together. Winona would catch the train to his part of Surrey, pick him up from his aunt and uncle's house and they'd go explore the city.

She'd spent time with him over his last two years at school, but this time it was just the two of them together for a whole day a week. And she found she was loving it.

He was thoughtful and kind and so _lonely._ She was lonely too, maybe that was why they'd fit into one another's lives so seamlessly. They were company for each other, someone to talk to and laugh with, and she found herself looking forward to the time they spent together – it was far better than time spent at home with her wicked foster parents, that was for sure.

So, when she'd had the vision about Harry alone in Diagon Alley, she'd written Dumbledore immediately to ask what Harry was doing there by himself. The Hogwarts Headmaster had written back promptly, telling her that he had left his aunt and uncle's house due to 'extenuating circumstances' which he hadn't gone into detail about. She knew the Weasleys were in Egypt, and Hermione in France, and she hated the thought of Harry all alone for the remaining few weeks of the holidays.

Maybe it was soft of her, or maybe just coming from a place of innate selfishness, but she wanted in on the action. If Harry got to go hang out at the Leaky Cauldron until term started, then she wasn't about to miss out. So, she informed her foster parents she was leaving for school early (they hadn't cared) and packed her bags, heading directly for the main road where she could hail the Knight Bus.

Unfortunately, the conductor was still that greasy creep, Stan Shunpike. Her leered at her as she climbed aboard the bus, eyes scanning her figure which had most certainly developed over the break.

"Well, well, well," he said as he printed her a ticket, handing it off with a sly, ugly smirk. "Always comin' back, aren't we?" he purred grossly.

But Winona wasn't in the mood. "Eat dirt, creep," she responded in a near hiss, and he was so bewildered by the attitude that he left her alone the entire rest of the journey.

Sitting on the bus, fingers wrapped tightly around her trunk to keep it steady, she thought about how despite not seeing the twins at all, it had actually been a pretty good summer.

It wasn't only Harry she'd spent time with. She'd also seen Angelina twice, once they'd even gone to see a muggle movie; the Quidditch player had gaped at the screen the entire time, hardly able to follow the plot through the magnificence of it all. She'd met up with Lee three times, twice at his place and then they'd spent a day at the local zoo. They'd invited Alicia along, and the girl had been all too happy to drop helping her parents at their store to spend the day with her fellow Gryffindors.

Her foster parents were no worse than usual, and now that she was older she had a certain degree of freedom she hadn't held before. It wasn't so bad, she thought suddenly, growing older.

Once she got there, she realised the Leaky Cauldron was filled with all kinds of interesting people, and Winona wished the twins were there so she had to someone to excitedly point out the hag sitting in the corner, biting at bright red, raw chillies with pointed, fang-like teeth to.

She dragged her trunk along after her, stepping up to the bar where a man with a hunch stood, polishing a butterbeer glass with the heavy brow of an ancient caveman. "Hi, I'm Winona Andrews," she said politely, and he looked up from his busywork. She recalled his name being Tom, and she hoped that was correct. "I have a booking?"

The wizard produced a thick book which he cracked open and scanned, picking up a quill and jotting something down before nodding to her. "Right this way, Miss Andrews," he said, dipping into a deep, unnecessary bow.

She followed him up a set of rickety stairs and down a long corridor, doors leading off every few metres.

"Here you are," Tom said with yet another bow when they came to a stop in front of door number '6', handing her a small key. She took it, letting herself into the room. It was small and modest, with a bed and a door leading off to a tiny bathroom. Winona found it cosy, however, and thanked Tom politely as he left.

She didn't bother unpacking, deciding she could just live out of her trunk until school began. She was excited to see Harry and explore Diagon Alley without any supervision. She pulled on an old denim jacket then turned and headed down the hall, having woken up that morning with the knowledge that Harry resided in room number 11.

Her abilities as a Seer only continued to grow, and she knew she needed to talk about it with Dumbledore – and by extension, Trelawney – the moment she arrived back at Hogwarts.

Knocking on the door to number 11, she listened to the sound of footsteps from inside, then the slab of wood was pulled open, revealing young Harry Potter. The kid gaped at her for a long moment in a brilliant impression of a koi fish, vibrant green eyes sparking with bewilderment.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, shooting him one of her bright smiles before stepping inside without invitation, knowing he wouldn't mind.

"Winnie?" he finally managed to ask, closing the door after her and turning to stare in shock. "What're you doing here?"

"Inviting you downstairs for a butterbeer," she told him, giving his room a cursory glance before spinning back around to grin at him.

"I don't understand," he said, blinking rapidly as he tried to piece it all together. "Who told you I was here?"

"The Powers That Be, I suppose," she replied. He only looked more confused. She chuckled, reaching up and tapping at her forehead in an obvious move. Realisation trickled over him and he nodded in understanding, although still completely thrown by her sudden appearance. "Come on, Boy-Wonder," she said, hooking an arm around his neck and dragging him gently towards the door. He was as tall as her now, which was mortifying, but she supposed she should just be grateful he wasn't any taller. The twins already had a good few inches on her, she didn't need Harry and Hermione surpassing her height, too.

Harry was quiet as they moved downstairs, and Winona got them a table near the back of the room, motioning to Tom for two bottles of butterbeer.

"I still don't understand," Harry said once they were alone. "You had a vision I was here? Is something bad going to happen?" He seemed anxious at the thought.

"Something bad was already happening," she corrected him, slouching in her seat and tapping her stained nails on the grainy wooden tabletop. Harry was only more confused. "You were lonely," she told him with an easy smile, and suddenly he seemed to understand, blinking at her with wide, bewildered eyes that had just a touch to shine to them, which she was more than happy to pretend she didn't notice.

Living with those horrible Muggles, growing up with them, she could imagine what it felt like to finally have people who really, truly cared about him. She felt the same, coming to Hogwarts and finding people she could finally call family.

"So, Dumbledore told me you had to leave the Muggles and come here," she began once Tom had dropped two frothing butterbeers on the table in front of them. "Wanna explain it to me?"

"You don't already know?" Harry sounded bemused.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'm not all-knowing," she told him with a laugh, "I saw you here, knew you needed some decent company, but that's about it. Everything else is a mystery."

"So you just showed up?" he asked, still struggling to understand.

"Well, the others will be along any day now," she told him casually.

"The others?"

"You'll see," she said mysteriously, gulping down a mouthful of butterbeer, then wiping her mouth on her hand. "So, why'd you run away?"

Harry paused, glancing down at his hands for a moment. "I sort of...blew up my aunt," he revealed with an off kind of smirk/wince combo.

"...Please elaborate."

"She was saying _awful_ things about my parents, and I lost control…" he confessed with a grimace.

Winona said nothing for a moment, a frown pulling at her elfin features. "Was there a lot of blood?" she finally asked, morbidly curious.

Harry was shocked and disgusted by the question. "_What_?!" he hissed. "_No_! I didn't _kill_ her!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," Winona breathed a sigh of relief. "What do you mean, then?"

Harry laughed, a loud chuckle that made a wizard a few tables over send him a wary look, like maybe they were plotting to blow him up too. "I mean she...inflated," he said, a tiny bit shy.

"Like a balloon?" Harry nodded his head sheepishly. "Brilliant!" she told him giddily, cackling loudly at the mental image. "Wait until George and Fred hear about this – they'll probably declare you their new god. Expect a lot of bowing."

"I didn't _mean_ to do it," he replied, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips that gave way to his amusement.

"So you weren't expelled, then?"

"No," his brow furrowed at the question. "It was strange, Fudge himself was here to greet me."

"Fudge?" she repeated dumbly. "Are we talking about the same Fudge? As in the _Minister _for_ Magic, _Fudge?"

"That's the one."

"Blimey," Winona murmured, picking up her butterbeer and taking another healthy sip. "You're a real, proper famous person, aren't you?" she said teasingly. Harry flushed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "No, really, you get personal visits from the Minister and everything!"

"Shut up," he groaned, but he was smiling, so Winona counted it as a win.

"I bet Malfoy would froth at the mouth with jealousy if he heard this," she added, and Harry couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "So, go on," she prompted him eagerly. "What happened? No punishment?"

"He said that he doesn't throw people in Azkaban for blowing up their aunts," he recounted.

"Just as well," Winona hummed.

"What _is _Azkaban, anyway? I mean, I know it's a Wizarding prison, but everyone who mentions it shivers like just the name alone freaks them out," he said, but she could do no more than shrug.

"I don't know much, I was raised as a Muggle, like you," she told him. "But, truth be told, I get a bad feeling even just thinking about it…"

"Must be a really bad place."

Winona nodded in agreement. "You know how terrible Muggle prisons can be," she said quietly. "I can't imagine what kind of terrors the Wizarding world threw in."

They sat in silence for a minute, each trying not to think too hard about the horrors Azkaban surely contained. "Hear about Sirius Black?" Harry asked her eventually, the level of butterbeer in their bottles growing lower.

"No," she said. "Who's Sirius Black?"

Harry scanned the tables nearby, then leaned over his chair to grab an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet where it lay on the tabletop behind him. "I didn't know anything about him either until the other day, but apparently it's all over the news," he said, flattening out the paper and skimming it himself before handing it over to her.

Curious, Winona took it, dragging her eyes over the moving image on the front. Her body reacted strangely. At the sight of the photograph on the paper before her she inhaled sharply, staring down at the crazed man on the page in a sort of ringing surprise.

It was a mugshot of a deranged man held by chains, screaming and laughing hysterically at the camera. Winona's mouth felt dry, and she stared down at the image, lost in thought.

The man looked familiar, somehow. But she wasn't sure where she could have possibly seen him before. When he opened his mouth to laugh again, she would almost swear she could _hear_ it, like she knew the sound of that laughter. Like she'd heard it before, maybe in her dreams.

"Winnie?" Harry asked after a long minute of nothing but silence as she stared at the image, skin prickling with awareness.

"Why's he in the paper?" she asked hurriedly, placing the copy of the Prophet down onto the table and finally dragging her eyes back up to Harry. She could still hear the madman's laughter in the back of her head, like the echo of a distant memory.

"Apparently he's the first wizard to ever break out of Azkaban," he told her with a frown. "Fudge seemed awfully concerned about him."

Curious, she glanced back down at the paper but avoided the photo of the man. Her eyes scanned the article attached as quickly as she could. "He's a murderer..." she murmured to herself. The words were like a punch to her stomach, winding her, and she realised she'd been hoping it wasn't something so awful. "Twelve people?" she whispered, dread swooping in her gut.

"With a single curse," Harry confirmed with a grim nod of his head.

Winona took an unsteady breath in. "I didn't even know that was possible," she said quietly. Harry stared morosely into his butterbeer while she kept reading the page. "That's scary," she finally managed to say, helpless but to return her eyes to the image.

He was hysterical_._ He looked unhinged and terrifying, certainly the kind of madman who could kill twelve people. So why was there a voice deep in her brain whispering, "_no_…"?

She cleared her throat, looking back up at Harry. "Doesn't feel too great, does it?" she mused, glad her racing heart didn't seem to affect her voice. "Having a murderous lunatic on the loose?"

"No," Harry agreed, finishing off his butterbeer.

"At least we're going back to school," she said quickly. "We _should_ be safe there."

"Of course we should," Harry frowned again, and she realised she'd made it sound indefinite. Like there was every possibility they might not be. "Why wouldn't we be?" he asked, concerned.

Winona stopped, the words giving her pause. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, like there was something very important that she'd forgotten. No idea what it was meant to be, she folded the paper up, effectively cutting off her connection to the lunatic on the page before her. She didn't want to look at him anymore. Staring into his eyes only made her heart race faster.

"Well, I didn't come here to make things gloomy! Tell me, who d'you reckon the new DADA Professor will be?" she asked conversationally, keeping things light. Harry's tense posture slowly relaxed. "No matter who it is, I reckon we can't do any worse than Lockhart…"

The conversation perked up, and although he didn't mention it again, she could tell that Harry was touched she'd shown up just so he wouldn't be lonely. She wasn't the kind to get sappy, and he wasn't either, but there was a silent agreement between them that they each cared, and that they'd do anything to help the other.

It was the kind of wordless affection she shared with the twins, but it was almost stronger. Like they were bound by more than just friendship and love.

The days passed quickly. Winona and Harry spent most of it out exploring Diagon Alley. In a mischievous voice she'd suggested ducking into Knockturn Alley for a peek, but Harry just told her it sounded like something the twins would suggest and she realised what a bad idea it was, laughing as she directed him back towards the ice cream parlour.

They helped one another with their summer homework, for which each were grateful. They chatted as they worked, breaking for ice cream every other hour, people-watching and wondering aloud whether their friends were having nice holidays.

Toward the end of the week, Harry began to have to buy things for his upcoming school year. Winona pulled out her own robes and decided they were a little on the tight side; she'd grown somewhat over the summer – or rather, filled out somewhat – and she had some spare money set aside. New robes weren't too expensive, so she splurged and bought them, thinking about how it would be nice to not have the twins teasing her for her new figure if she was in too-tight robes.

She didn't need any new textbooks except an odd sort called _The Monster Book of Monsters_, for Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry grimaced when she told him.

"It's awful," he revealed as they strolled into Flourish and Blotts. "It tried to bite off my toes."

The manager looked as though she'd asked him to go walk into a werewolf den when she told him she would be in need of this book, and she watched with raised brows as he pulled on thick gloves and ventured into the cage, fishing out one of the snapping books and handing it off to her with a resentful grimace.

"Well…is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked with the sigh of a tired, tired man.

"Yes," said Harry, looking down his own booklist with a frown, "I need _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" the man murmured, leading them off down the back of the packed bookstore, where a small section labelled _Fortune Telling_ was placed. Winona hummed interestedly, running her fingertips along the spines of the books, curiously reading them and making a mental note to come back when she had some more free time.

"Here you are," said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. "_Unfogging the Future_. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails —"

"All relatively useless, mind you," Winona murmured just loud enough for the man to hear. He sent her a questioning look that she paid no attention to. Harry's focus was elsewhere, and she turned to him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," the manager spoke up, catching sight of the book he was eyeing. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

_Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming._

Well, didn't that sound cheerful?

Curious, Winona eyed the boy, but before she could voice her questions, the manager was speaking again. "Anything else?" he asked, glancing around at the store as though already trying to decide what to do next.

"Yes," said Harry, though it didn't take a Seer to tell he was distracted. "Er — I need_ Intermediate Transfiguration _and_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three._"

"Add _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five_ to that, would you?" Winona added, and the wizard nodded, turning and disappearing in the shelves of thick, dusty tomes, returning with the three required books in his hands.

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, and the manager nodded back before shooting them an unconvincing smile and hurrying off to help the next person.

Harry claimed to be tired, and so Winona led him back through the crowd to the Leaky Cauldron, agreeing to meet up for dinner in an hour or two. Winona was just putting her purchases into her trunk when there was a light tapping at her window.

"Errol," she exclaimed, rushing over and opening the glass, letting the bird tip into the room with about as much grace as a goblin attempting ballet. The poor thing was puffing as he flipped himself upright. Winona quickly fetched him some water to guzzle down, then sat on the window seat and eagerly opened the letter he'd brought with him.

_Dearest Win,_

_Just got got back from Egypt. Can't wait to finish telling you all about it! Dad told us all about how Harry blew up his aunt – we're dying for more details! We're going to be in Diagon Alley on the 31st, will we see you there?_

_Miss ya, you rascal,_

_Fred & George_

Winona grinned, immediately digging out a spare piece of parchment and eagerly writing her response.

_Dearest troublemakers,_

_I'm actually staying at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry (different rooms, you heathens…and it's a long story). Safe to say I'll see you here!_

_Can't wait to see you both, I've got some sketches to show you that I'd like your thoughts on! Keep out of danger until then, I can't believe it's been a whole three months since we've seen each other. I think I'm having Weasley-withdrawals._

_Much love,_

_Winona_

She added a little caricature of herself crying a puddle of tears, then folded up the note and tied it to Errol's leg. "You gonna be okay to fly all the way there?" she asked him carefully, the little thing looking like he was about to keel over on her windowsill. But Errol did nothing but stare back, so she sighed, opened the window and watched as the bird seemed to mirror her sigh before taking off into the sky.

Two days later she spied Angelina outside Flourish and Blotts, and she jumped out from behind a cart full of pumpkins, making the taller girl jump with fright.

"Oh, you menace," Angelina tutted, slapping her friend on the arm.

"Good to see you too, Ange."

"How are you?" she asked, and Winona shrugged.

"Can't complain," she said, although a smile played at her mouth. "Wanna grab some ice cream? I'm kind of in with the owner of the shop."

Angelina eagerly agreed, and together they turned towards the ice cream parlour, chatting happily as they walked. "So, guess what?" Angelina asked her abruptly, a look of excitement on her pretty face.

Winona tried not to sigh, she hated this game. "What?"

"Fred owled me!" Angelina told her in a bit of a squeal. Clearly this meant something more than it seemed, but Winona couldn't say what.

Unsure how she was supposed to respond, she elected to nod her head slowly. "Brilliant," she finally answered, hoping it was the right thing to say.

"He said he missed me, and that he can't wait to catch up once we get back to school!" Angelina looked about ready to start squealing again. Winona was glad when she didn't.

She didn't really understand – it was just _Fred_, after all – but then again, she supposed she didn't see him the same way Angelina so obviously did. He was her best mate, so getting all breathless and excited at the mention of his name wasn't something she could relate to. "That's great!" Winona said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Clearly it was what Angelina needed to hear.

"He said he was coming to Diagon Alley on the thirty-first," she continued happily. "You'll tell me if he says anything about me, right?"

"Uh – right," Winona nodded once, trying not to wince at the thought of fluttering between her two friends like she was some kind of specialist flirtation owl.

The two Gryffindors enjoyed some ice cream together before Angelina had to leave, having plans for the rest of the afternoon. They hugged as she left, and Winona sighed when she was left alone, going back into the Leaky Cauldron to look for Harry and see if he was up for a game of Gobstones.

It wasn't until the last day of the holidays that she saw anyone else.

She was sitting down at a couch by the fire in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron's bar, a half-empty bottle of butterbeer beside her and masses of coloured pencils spread out over the table for easy access.

"And what do we have here, Freddie?"

"Look a lot like a beautiful, unattached lass to me, Georgie."

Winona abandoned her work, spinning around to set her stormy eyes on her two best friends in the world. The twins were standing before her, even more freckled than usual, and slightly taller than they had been before the holidays.

"Finally," she grinned at them widely, showing off the small gap between her two front teeth. "Been waiting on you tossers for _weeks_ now!"

"Never fear, dear maiden," Fred beamed, collapsing onto the couch beside her. "For we have arrived."

George took a seat on the ground in front of them, and Winona grinned again, feeling better already. "Go on, then," she encouraged them eagerly, tucking her legs up underneath herself and sticking her hands under her knees. "Tell me everything!"

"We sealed Percy in a Pyramid!"

"Well, _almost,_" George added, though their shared excitement never dimmed. "Mum caught us, but it was completely worth it!"

"Harry told me he's been made Head Boy," she said with a grimace. "Just what we need."

"If he puffs out his chest any more, we'll have to start calling him Head Baboon," Fred grinned, and Winona gave a peal of laughter. "What about you?" he asked once her amused giggles had tapered off. "What're you doing staying in the Leaky Cauldron? You said you'd explain in your letter."

"Well, I had a vision that Harry was here all alone," she told them, suddenly hesitant. Now that she said it out loud, she felt kind of stupid. She dropped everything to come and keep the boy company. She supposed it was part of the strange kinship she shared with him, so tied to him that she was plagued with visions of his great, yet terrifying, future.

Thankfully, the twins didn't seem to find this strange. She didn't need to fill in the blanks, they could do that well enough on their own. They knew her well enough for that to explain everything.

"What've you been up to?" Fred asked, mirroring her and tucking his legs up under himself. "Spent much time in the Alley?"

"Bought enough Sugar Quills to last me until next month," she joked with the realisation that she had no news to share with them. She'd just been sitting around Diagon Alley with Harry, eating junk food and doing..._homework..._for lack of anything better to do. "I'm not interesting," she said quickly, acknowledging how ultimately un-fantastic her life was – which was saying something for a witch with the ability to draw the future. "Go on, tell me more about Egypt," she prompted, leaning closer with a grin. "What was the Wizarding culture like? Were there lots of creepy, ancient artefacts for sale?"

"None we could afford," George snorted.

"We did meet an old Warlock who offered to give us some Crushed Griffin Claw in exchange for the socks we were wearing," Fred added with a bright grin that shone with light.

"Yeah, but Dad caught us before we could finish untying our shoes," George finished, giving a grimace of regret.

"What a shame," Winona laughed, and the twins seemed to perk up. Fred was opening his mouth, no doubt to tell her more interesting anecdotes from their trip, but was interrupted by the sound of shoes on the wooden panelling behind them. Winona turned just in time to hear Mrs Weasley's crow of delight at the sight of her.

"Winona, sweetheart!" the Weasley matriarch cried with warm affection, bending down to pull her into a tight embrace that left Winona's face pressed uncomfortably to the woman's bosom.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley," she said with a gasp, once she was finally released and could once more breathe freely. "Did you enjoy your holiday?"

"Absolutely, dear. It was wonderful," Mrs Weasley told her happily.

"And how's Bill?"

"Oh, he's well," Mrs Weasley crooned with something of a sigh. "It's hard having him so far away, and he's too busy to visit, so we don't see him nearly often enough..."

"Winnie doesn't care, Mum!" the twins groaned from behind her, and both women whirled around to glare at them.

"I do so," Winona argued, and they rightfully looked at least a little bit scolded.

"I don't know why you put up with those two, dear," Mrs Weasley said lightly, casting her sons another frown before patting Winona gently on the shoulder and turning to leave when she spotted Mr Weasley heading for the bar.

"Is Ron here?" Winona asked the twins once she was gone.

"Yeah," Fred nodded, "Hermione too. They went out into the Alley to find Harry."

"Oh good," she sighed, glad Harry's friends had finally arrived. "So, keep going," she prompted them after a moment of silence. "Tell me more about Egypt; I want to know everything!"

The twins launched into their favourite stories, which soon enough had Winona in near side-splitting laughter, clutching onto Fred as she giggled so hard she could barely breathe.

"Come on," Mrs Weasley reappeared just when Winona was about to pass out from her friend's tales of hilarity. "We've got things to buy," she said to her sons, who groaned and climbed to their feet.

"Do you mind if I tag along, Mrs Weasley?" Winona asked, scrambling upright and already beginning to shove her splayed out art supplies into her satchel.

"You don't have to, dear-"

"No, no," she quickly said, throwing the strap over her body and turning around to grin, cheeks still flushed from the amusement of it all. "I want to."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"It's us, Mum," George proclaimed, shuffling closer and throwing an arm over Winona's shoulders in an affectionate move. "She can't get enough of us."

"Yeah," Fred leapt in, winding an arm around her back, palm of his hand pressed innocently to her ribs. "She's been without us for so long, you see; you can't separate us now!"

"Very well, then," Mrs Weasley said with an exasperated sort of sigh, but there was a twitch to her lips that was impossible to mask.

Ginny was waiting by her dad's side, and Percy was there too, scanning the newspaper with a sort of intense expression, as though he were reading something he would later be tested on.

"Hey, Ginger," Winona greeted the youngest Weasley, stepping out of the twins' hold and rushing up to the girl, holding out her fist for a bump. Shyly, Ginny did as much, making the older girl grin.

"Hello, Winona," Percy said formally from her right, before the Ginny had a chance to respond. Bewildered, Winona turned to see him holding out a hand like they were strangers, meeting for the first time.

Cautiously, she reached out and shook his hand, his grip tight and firm, as though trying to make a good impression. "Uh, hey," she said slowly, grappling to understand what was happening.

"Looking forward to the start of term?" he asked cordially, dropping her hand and peering down at her through his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Yes?" it came out more like a question.

"As am I," Percy agreed, puffing out his chest, quite obviously trying to bring attention to the gleaming silver Head Boy badge sitting on his chest.

"Yes, Percy," Fred rolled his eyes, pushing his older brother out of the way impatiently. "You're the most important person at Hogwarts this year, you're Dumbledore's new right-hand man, yadda, yadda, yadda."

"You should show a little more respect," Percy said primly, nose pointed up in the air.

"Sure, Percy," George sniggered. "Just as soon as you earn it."

Percy went red, but was saved from having to come up with a witty retort as Mrs Weasley barrelled forwards, waving the group out through the back, where Diagon Alley awaited.

* * *

They arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron a good few hours later, arms laden with equipment for the coming year. They found Harry, Hermione and Ron already sat at a large table with Mr Weasley, who looked vaguely as though he had swallowed a lemon.

"Hey Ron, Hermione," Winona greeted the younger kids as she collapsed into a seat beside the wild-haired bookworm, who was cradling something orange and furry in her hands. "Whatcha got there?" she asked as she heard Fred and George making more snide remarks about Percy in the background.

"This is Crookshanks," Hermione proclaimed proudly, thrusting the thing forwards into Winona's arms, forcing her to gather it in a tight grip, the thing's claws digging into the soft flesh of her arm. "The owner of the store said he's been there for years, and nobody had ever looked at him twice. I can't imagine why; _look _at him," she crooned, scratching the cat under its chin.

Winona wasn't a huge cat person – she liked them well enough, but she thought they were overrated. Still, she had to admit the thing had charm, staring up with its squashed little face, blinking at her with weirdly intelligent eyes. They put her off a little, to be honest, and she turned to the third year, who was watching her expectantly.

"He's...nice," she finally said, and Hermione beamed as though Winona had just given her the greatest compliment known to wizard kind. She took the opportunity to deposit the creature back into her waiting arms.

"Everyone go get washed up for dinner!" Mrs Weasley suddenly exclaimed, just as Tom, the innkeeper, meandered over, wand in hand.

Winona offered to let Hermione and Ginny stay in her room, but Ginny said she had to stay close to her parents – presumably because of the whole 'Sirius Black' thing, which seemed to have everyone on edge. Hermione took her up on her offer, and the pair of them retreated to her room, where they took turns using the shower, dressing in casual jeans and cardigans for dinner.

When they reappeared downstairs, the last to arrive since they'd each taken the time to wash their hair – which, for Hermione, was something of an ordeal – three tables had been pushed together, and the Weasleys and Harry were crowded around them, chatting jovially with one another, each holding bottles of butterbeer or pumpkin juice.

Hermione moved over to the empty seat beside Ron while Winona moved over to the one left open between George and Fred, sitting down and taking the offered butterbeer from Fred.

From higher up the table, Percy was saying something to his mum in an overly-important voice, like he was the mayor and not just the Head Boy of his school. Mrs Weasley was listening with rapt attention, and Winona heard Fred snort derisively from her right.

She turned to look at him, noting the sarcastic sneer sitting on his face. "You feel okay about not being made a prefect?" she asked him in an undertone just as Tom served their first course for the night. Fred busied himself with buttering his bread, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't care _that _much," he said, casting another look over at his older brother. "But it'd be nice of Mum to not act so ashamed of us; or worse, forget we even exist."

It was rare to see either of the twins so sombre. Winona reached out, wrapping her fingers around his forearm, his skin warm under her touch. He cast her a look, his deep blue eyes glittering, and Winona moved her lips into something of a smile, squeezing gently as she cast him her most encouraging look, trying to tell him without words how much he was worth being proud of.

From down the table, Ron called out her name, bringing her into a conversation about his rat, and she was forced to look away from Fred, rubbing her thumb against the skin on his forearm twice before pulling away and focusing on Ron.

"Winona, as a Seer, what would you say-" Ron's words were cut off by a sharp slap to the head by Hermione. "Ow!" he exclaimed, flinching out of the way. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"You can't just go around shouting that Winona's a _Seer_," Hermione hissed, shooting the older girl an apologetic look, apologising on Ron's behalf.

Ron grimaced, ears turning red as he grumbled something under his breath that made Winona smirk and Hermione slap him again. She turned to Fred to share her amusement, surprised to find he was already looking at her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, lifting a hand to wipe at her mouth.

"Nothing," he assured her with heavy eyes, then suddenly shook his head like he was clearing it and swiped up his butterbeer. "Tell me about how your art's going," he continued on eagerly. "You said in one of your letters that you've been experimenting with black paper and white crayons?"

Winona relaxed into her chair, grinning back and launching into a tale of her experiments with shadow.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow?" she asked the twins later on, once all the courses of the meal had been devoured and they were down to their last few spoonfuls of chocolate pudding.

"Dunno," George said around a mouthful of the scrumptious pudding. She glanced over at Fred, who swallowed his mouthful, then called the question out to his dad, who had just finished a murmured conversation with Hermione about toaster ovens.

"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," he told them, and the conversation around the table slowed. This didn't make sense to Winona, why on earth would the Ministry send cars for _them_?

"Why?" asked Percy curiously, voicing what everyone was thinking.

"It's because of you, Perce," George spoke up, his voice perfectly serious. Winona nearly choked on her pudding, and Fred clapped her firmly on the back. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them —"

"— for Humongous Bighead," finished Fred jovially.

Everyone around them snorted in amusement, but Percy looked like he tasted something sour. Mrs Weasley looked almost lethal.

"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again in a dignified voice, his shoulders held back like there was a ruler glued to his spine.

"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Mr. Weasley simply, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favour —"

Mr Weasley sounded casual enough, but Winona was best friends with the twins – she could spot a lie when it was right in front of her. He was keeping something from them, and despite how achingly curious this made her, she knew she had to put her trust in him – whatever reasons they had, they were good ones; she could feel it in her bones.

"Good thing, too," Mrs. Weasley piped up briskly, setting down her empty pudding cup and clapping her hands together. "Do you realise how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground... You are all packed, aren't you?" she asked, suddenly pinning each of them with a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare.

Everyone around the table gave vague murmurs of confirmation, but then Percy said, "Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet. He's dumped them on my bed." Ron shot his older brother a glare of betrayal that was ignored.

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs Weasley said, and Ron's ears turned red as he grumbled about it before sighing and climbing to his feet.

"I'm gonna head upstairs too," Winona said, pushing her chair back and standing up.

"Tired?" Hermione asked from opposite her.

"Inspired," she corrected, and for a moment Hermione looked confused, but from either side of her the twins made the motions of drawing with their hands, and Hermione nodded in understanding.

She grinned at the twins, sent Harry a smile and then told Hermione to head up whenever she was ready, before climbing the stairs and disappearing inside her room.

It had become quite homey to her after the last week and a half, her clothes dumped half out of her trunk and the desk in the corner already smudged black with charcoal and ink. It would be sad to leave, she found herself thinking, but she reminded herself that she was going somewhere a million times better; she was going to Hogwarts.

Hermione came back up to the room soon enough, and Winona moved across the bed to make room as she went into the bathroom, reappearing in a matching set of pristine flannelette pyjamas. "Cute," Winona said with a smirk, and Hermione's cheeks went a little pink.

Winona had never owned a set of matching pyjamas before. She made do with flannel pants and various old, threadbare teeshirts she slept in. she wondered what it might be like, to live a life where you got changed into a matching pyjama set every night before bed.

Hermione was just heading back into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair when there was a quiet knock at the door. "I'll get it," Winona told her, padding across the cold floorboards in bare feet and cracking open the door, peeking out with an arched eyebrow. "Oh," she said when she saw who it was. "Hey, Boy-Wonder."

Harry didn't look so great, pale and more than slightly worried. He wet his lips then looked up and down the hallway, as if worried about eavesdroppers. "Can we talk?" he asked in barely more than a whisper.

Winona opened the door wider and Harry cast the corridor a final glance before slipping into her room. "What's up?" she asked him as she shut the door tightly after him.

"Hermione?" he asked instead, voice little more than a whisper.

Bemused, Winona jerked her thumb at the only other door in the room. "Bathroom." Harry said nothing, seeming only more pale in the low lighting of their room. Winona crossed her arms over her holey old _the Clash_ teeshirt, the fabric mottled with flecks of paint. "What's wrong?" she asked, growing wary.

Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I just overheard Mr and Mrs Weasley arguing," he finally began. Confused, Winona waited impatiently for him to continue. "They were talking about me and you," he paused, seeming to go even paler, "and Sirius Black."

Winona's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sirius Black?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "What's _he_ got to do with us?"

"I dunno, exactly. Mr Weasley was saying we had a right to know about something, but Mrs Weasley was saying we're too young – that it would only scare us."

Winona's insides were slowly turning to ice. "Know what?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know, exactly," he whispered. "But, well, they seem to think Black's after _me._"

Winona blinked. "You?" she asked. "Why would he be after _you_?"

Harry suddenly looked so lost, drooped over like he carried the weight of the world on his bony shoulders. "I don't know," he said, so very tired. "But they made it sound like he had some kind of connection to us – _both_ of us."

"What possible connection could Sirius Black have to either of us?" she asked. "We're just kids."

Harry just looked tired, and Winona didn't want to add to his burden. Instead she reached out, gripping tight to his shoulder and squeezing.

"You'll be safe at Hogwarts," she told him confidently. "Dumbledore would never let anything happen to you."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking up to meet her eyes. "I'm not even scared, I'm just confused," he admitted. "Why do these things always happen to me?"

Winona smiled, the expression tinged with sadness and sympathy. "I dunno," she said softly. "Thanks for coming to tell me, though."

"You have a right to know," he shrugged. A sudden frustration came over his expression, one that Winona shared. "Why would Mr and Mrs Weasley be keeping something like this from us?"

Winona sighed. "I'm sure they're just doing what they think is best," she said gently.

"You're not angry?"

"I'm frustrated," she admitted. "But I trust the Weasleys with my life. I'm sure they wouldn't do anything that would hurt us in the long run."

Harry didn't look convinced, and she squeezed his shoulder again. "I hope you're right," he whispered, downcast.

He looked so despondent, Winona couldn't help but bring him in for a quick hug. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she squeezed tight, trying to remind him he wasn't alone. Not now, not ever. Harry hugged her back, and she knew he must have grown up as starved for affection as she had. Yet another thing that bound them together.

The bathroom door clicked open and Hermione reappeared, stopping short at the sight that greeted her. "Oh," she said, surprised. Harry pulled away and ran a hand through his untameable hair. "Harry?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione," he told her, attempting a smile. "I'd better head to bed. Thanks, Winnie," he added, turning to leave.

"Thanks, Boy-Wonder," she replied, and he sent them a waning smile as he left the room. Hermione stared after him in concern, and Winona shut the door after him, turning to look at her softly. "He just needs rest, I'm sure he'll tell you all about it on the train tomorrow."

Hermione's expression was pinched, like she were working hard to solve a puzzle in her head. "You two are really close," she finally said.

"He's a great kid," Winona shrugged. "And the only other person I know who grew up without a proper family. Hardship bonds people, I s'pose."

Hermione didn't seem convinced, and Winona knew she was thinking there had to be something more to it. She wished she could tell her there wasn't, but Winona wasn't sure herself. There was still that nameless thing that hovered between her and Harry, a connection neither could explain. Winona hoped one day she might figure it out.

"You should get to bed," she said instead, climbing onto the far right side of the bed, leaving Hermione plenty of room to sleep. "Big day tomorrow."

"What about you?" Hermione asked as she climbed beneath the covers.

"I'm gonna stay up awhile longer. I still need to wind down a little."

Hermione looked disapproving, but she knew better than to argue the point. "All right," she said, laying her head on the pillow that smelt of mothballs and shutting her eyes. "Don't stay up too late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Hermione must have been tired, because it was barely five minutes later she was dead to the world, curled on her side, slumbering deeply. Winona stayed up, a stick of charcoal held in dirty fingers, sketching as she tried to process what Harry had told her.

Sirius Black was somehow connected to both of them, although how that might have been remained a mystery. A mystery the Weasleys knew the answer to.

She hadn't been lying to Harry – she really did trust the Weasleys with her life. In many ways, they were the only family she'd ever really known. But she did feel, deep down, a sense of betrayal when she thought of the Weasleys keeping something from her – especially something as big as a peculiar connection to a murderous madman on the loose in the wizarding world.

That seemed like the sort of thing she was entitled to know about.

When she slipped into the vision, it was almost like falling asleep. She hadn't even realised it had happened. One moment she was sketching the outline of Hermione as she dozed, and the next everything was dark and she could hear someone crying.

The scent of salt was sharp in the air, whether from tears or blood, Winona wasn't sure. There was a sense of urgency, her heart raced. She was scared and also excited, desperate even. Somebody was speaking, a low, rasping voice, like its owner hadn't used it in years. She felt a pressure on her hands, someone holding them, and heard the distant chiming of a far away clock.

She came out of the vision slowly, blinking to awareness. Hermione was still slumbering beside her, tiny little snores escaping her parted lips. The light on the bedside table flickered, the candle burnt down to its very end. But the light was just enough to see the sketch she'd blindly drawn.

In the rough lines of a broken stick of charcoal was the image of Sirius Black, but it took her a moment to realise it was even him. He wasn't cackling madly, or screaming with wicked delight. He was smiling, the expression soft and full of love. His hand was outstretched and there was hope in his eyes, like he were reaching towards something he so desperately wanted.

And Winona felt bad for him. She wanted to know who he was. How could a man whom had murdered thirteen people in cold blood look like that? How could he look so desperately hopeful? How could he look so _innocent_?

Winona was awoken the next morning by Hermione gently shaking her shoulders, and she blinked in surprise, not even having realised she'd fallen asleep at all.

"You passed out over your drawings again," Hermione told her with a quirk of her lips, and Winona looked down at her lap to see it still covered with sticks of charcoal and the sketchbook with the image of a smiling Sirius Black pointing up Winona covered it before Hermione could see. "Come on, you'd better finish getting packed before Mrs Weasley finds out you haven't," she added slyly. Winona managed a throaty chuckle before arching her back in a stretch and climbing, begrudgingly, out of bed.

She changed into her newest pair of black jeans – the only pair without rips – and pulled on a yellow cardigan that reminded her of Hufflepuff's colours.

Her things didn't take long to put away, probably because she didn't care to fold anything, merely tossing everything she could see into her trunk, then squashing it down until she had enough room to shut the lid. Hermione gave her a look of horrified disdain from where she was knelt in front of her own trunk, carefully checking things off a list she'd prepared earlier.

Hoping to distract her, Winona asked which elective she was most looking forward to beginning this year.

"Ancient Runes, most definitely," Hermione told her eagerly, sitting on her closed trunk and grinning widely, like the very thought of the class was enough to get her heart racing.

Weird kid.

Hermione was just beginning to explain the subject in more detail when the door burst open with force, banging against the wall loudly. Hermione squeaked and flinched back as though preparing for an attack, but Winona could do no more than roll her eyes, knowing who it was before so much as turning to look.

"Are you ladies ready?" the twins asked, their own trunks sitting idle in the doorway.

"What if we'd been getting changed?!" Hermione demanded shrilly, aghast at how they'd just barged in unannounced.

"What's your point?" George asked with a perfectly straight face. Winona laughed at Hermione's scandalised expression as she finally succeeded in closing her trunk enough to lock it.

"No use, Bookworm," she told her with a grin, threading the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulders. "It's like talking to a brick wall that only talks back in insults."

"I'm not sure you used the expression correctly," Hermione said flatly, but there was a curve to her lips that gave away her amusement. "But I'm beginning to see that," she added, casting the twins a cursory glance.

"Time's a-wastin', Andrews," Fred said brashly, tapping at his bare wrist impatiently.

"Let me guess, breakfast's being served," Winona rolled her eyes, and the twins were already heading out into the corridor.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, gathering up her things and hurrying after them.

Winona rolled her eyes but followed, noting that the twins had paused to wait for her while Hermione had rushed for the stairs. Winona shut her door behind her, and had just opened her mouth to speak when the door down the hall burst open with a bang, and Percy stormed towards them, an agitated scowl resting on his freckled face.

"All right, Perce?" Fred asked, and the Head Boy only scowled deeper.

"What happened?" George questioned eagerly as he passed.

Percy said nothing other than a growled, "bloody Ronald..." before disappearing down the stairs.

The twins exchanged grins, bursting into Harry's room where Ron was standing. "What'd you do to Perce?" George asked, beaming at his brother proudly.

"He looked about ready to lay an egg!" Fred added cheekily.

"He thinks I dripped tea on his picture of his _girlfriend_," Ron sneered in disgust.

"Brilliant!"

"Good job, little brother!"

"I didn't do it!" Ron argued defiantly, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Come on, then, you two," George said, locking an arm around Ron's neck and dragging him to the doorway. "Breakfast's getting cold!"

Fred followed after them, and Winona made to do the same, only to pause when she realised Harry wasn't moving. "Okay there, Boy-Wonder?" she asked his gently, leaning in the doorway and cocking her head curiously.

"Yeah," Harry said, but the frown on his face told a different story. She wondered if he'd slept any better than she had. If his dream, too, had been filled with the enigma of Sirius Black. Harry sighed the sigh of a boy much younger than thirteen and murmured, "it's just that-"

"Come _on,_ Win," Fred yelled impatiently from down the hallway, interrupting whatever Harry had been about to say. "If you don't hurry, Ron will eat all the bacon!"

Winona didn't move, more concerned about Harry, but the kid only sighed again and shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. She cocked her head, observing him closely.

"If you're sure," she finally murmured, but Harry did no more than lift his shoulders in a shrug. She nodded for him to lead the way, shutting the door after them and resolving to speak to him when they next got a few minutes alone.

Breakfast was a hurried affair, and although Winona wanted to sit with the twins, Ginny waved excitedly when she appeared, gesturing to an open seat beside her, and she couldn't say no to the hope on her little face. Winona reluctantly left the boys to go sit between Ginny and Hermione, where Mrs Weasley was beginning to tell them of her exploits in love potions back in her Hogwarts days.

The Ministry cars arrived soon enough, and Winona, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and the twins, piled into the one at the back. It was large and comfortable, rather reminding Winona of a limousine, and she stretched out her legs and watched London pass them by.

"Are we allowed to put the windows down?" she called up to the driver when there was a lull in conversation.

"No," the wizard deadpanned, and she grimaced at the back of his head before turning her attention back to what George and Ginny were saying about Lee and his commentating of the school's Quidditch matches.

King's Cross was bustling with Muggles as they moved inside, and Mrs Weasley instructed Fred to go with Hermione through the barrier, while George went with Winona. They ran at the wall, reappearing on platform nine and three-quarters, which was bustling with witches and wizards, everyone dressed much more colourfully, making Winona happy.

They got a near-empty carriage at the back and loaded their things on before darting back out onto the platform to bid farewell to Mr and Mrs Weasley.

The Weasley Matriarch pulled all her children into hugs and kisses, wishing them a wonderful year, then quickly dived onto Winona, who smiled thinly as she squeezed the older witch back.

"You be good, and you keep those boys of mine in line," Mrs Weasley said to her, the same parting words exchanged every year since she was eleven.

"Of course," Winona assured her, keeping to the script. "Always do!"

"Oh, you're a good girl," Mrs Weasley cooed, patting down her blonde hair affectionately.

The thoughtless action made Winona ache deep inside, and her mouth was moving before she'd made the decision to speak. "You'd tell me if you knew something I didn't, wouldn't you, Mrs Weasley?" she asked, childish hope ringing in her voice.

Mrs Weasley pulled back, surprise etched across her face. "Sorry, dear?"

"If you knew something about me that I didn't, you'd tell me what it was, wouldn't you?" she asked again. "You wouldn't keep something important from me?"

Mrs Weasley's expression shuttered, the emotions in her eyes too numerous to name. Finally she settled on a tense smile. "Why ever would you ask such a thing, dear?" she asked, just a little too innocent to be believable. It didn't escape Winona's notice that it wasn't an answer to the question.

The train whistled behind her, and Mrs Weasley smiled again, wholly unconvincing as she gave her a tiny push in the direction of the train.

"You'd best be off, Winnie," she said quietly. Winona thought this might have been the first time Mrs Weasley had called her by her nickname, and it surprised her, only making her more suspicious. "Off you pop," Mrs Weasley urged her onwards.

Swallowing thickly, hurt ricocheting through her, Winona nodded once, not bothering to attempt a smile as she watched Mrs Weasley move onto Harry, whom she clutched onto like she were worried she might never see him again.

"I think she likes Harry more than us," Fred said to her quietly. On anybody else, the words would have sounded snide, but instead they were said with amusement. Winona grinned up at him in exasperation.

"I've made you all sandwiches...here you are, Ron," Mrs Weasley was saying.

"Is it-?" Ron tried to asked as he took the sandwich she offered.

"No, they're not corned beef," she tutted impatiently. "Fred? Where's Fred?" she asked, voice kicked up an extra notch with the stress of it all. "Ah yes, here you are, dear…"

"Harry, Winona," said Mr Weasley quietly, catching the duo's attention, "come over here a moment?"

Winona frowned, glancing at Harry who looked back at her, just as bewildered. As one they followed Mr Weasley a few metres away from the rest of them. Winona's heart was racing in her chest as they ducked behind a tall pillar on the platform in an attempt as privacy.

"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —" Mr Weasley began in a hushed voice, eyes serious and dark and full of worry.

"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "I already know."

Mr Weasley stood from his crouch, eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline. "You know? How could you know?"

"I, er, I heard you and Mrs Weasley talking last night. I couldn't help hearing," Harry told him, quick and apologetic. "I wasn't sure what it meant, and so I went to speak with Winona, in case she might have…" he said. That last part wasn't strictly true, but it sounded better than him just saying he'd run straight to tell her they'd been talking about them.

Mr Weasley's eyes were intense as he looked at Winona. "And do you, Winona?" he asked seriously. "Do you know?"

Winona frustration kicked up a notch. "I have no idea, Mr Weasley," she said. "And I'd really like to know what the big secret is, other than Black being after Harry for some reason."

"Ah – that's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley, casting an anxious glance back at his wife, who was squeezing Ginny within an inch of her life, eyes sparkling with tears as they said goodbye.

"No — honestly, it's okay," Harry assured him. "This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on."

"Harry, you must be very scared —"

"I'm not," said Harry. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley looked wholly unconvinced. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

Mr Weasley flinched but otherwise didn't react. "Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"

"Arthur!" called Mrs Weasley impatiently. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"They're coming, Molly!" shouted Mr Weasley but he turned back to them and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"

"— that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" said Harry gloomily.

"Not entirely," Mr Weasley murmured, subdued. "Harry, Winona – both of you – you must swear to me you won't go _looking_ for Black."

Winona blanched, and Harry was similarly surprised. "What?"

"Promise me," said Mr Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens —"

"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?"

"Swear to me that whatever you might hear — either of you," Mr Weasley implored. "You will not seek him out."

"Mr Weasley, please," said Winona tersely. "What in Merlin's name does this have to do with me?"

Mr Weasley looked stricken. "It was decided a long time ago that you would never know – for your own good, Winona, you must understand–"

"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

Mr Weasley shut his eyes in defeat just as a loud whistle shot across the platform. "Go," he urged them. "But remember what I said!"

And even though Winona wanted to grip him by the front of his robes and shake him until answers fell out like sickles, the train was beginning to move, pulling away from the platform, and they were out of time.

With a growl of frustration, Winona darted back towards to the train. The twins were standing at one of the doors, and Fred thrust out a hand. She gripped it tight and he tugged her into the train with laughable ease, like she weighed no more than a bag of feathers.

"Talk about cutting it close," said George.

"What were you and Harry gabbing on about with our dad?" Fred wondered. Winona didn't turn to wave at the Weasleys on the platform, she just squeezed Fred's hand and let go, leading them further down the train.

"Doesn't matter," she lied. Harry, Ron and Hermione all stood by the doors too, Harry frowning hard. "Will you be all right?" Winona asked, the question said to them all, but meant really for Harry.

"They'll be fine, mama-bear," Fred said, exasperated, and reached out to tugged her along. She locked eyes with Harry, and in that instant they promised to find one another once they got to school to talk about what had happened. With a final wave, Fred pulled her around the corner and into the next carriage.

"There you are!" Lee exclaimed when they tumbled into their usual compartment. "Thought you'd missed the train and flown your dad's car to school," he added cheekily, and the twins snickered.

"We wish," they told him, taking seats beside him and leaving her in the doorway.

"Winona!" Alicia looked thrilled by her arrival, and she reached forwards to wrap her friend in a hug before she was even all the way through the door.

"Hey, Leesh," she responded, squeezing her back tightly.

The brunette pulled back, reaching out to grab a lock of her blonde hair, pulling at it with a grin. "Did you do something to your hair?" she asked lightly. Winona ran a hand through her wavy locks.

"Nope," she responded lamely. "I mean, I brushed it."

"You look nice," Alicia told her, and she smiled back sweetly. "How've you been since the zoo?" she continued as they sat together in the spot by the window. "Ange told me she saw you in Diagon Alley the other day."

"Yeah, I spent the last few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron," she revealed, omitting the part about being there for Harry. "For the first time ever, I've actually finished my summer homework in time," she laughed, and Alicia chuckled too.

George whipped out a worn pack of Exploding Snap, quickly enticing Lee into a game just as the trolley came past, and Alicia asked if she wanted anything ("Just a chocolate cauldron for me, thanks") before slipping out the door to join the growing queue.

"So," Fred spoke suddenly, surprising Winona as she'd thought he'd been focused on the game happening between his dorm mates. "What were you really talking with my dad about?"

Winona turned to look, the smile melting from her face. "Not here," she said, hushed so Alicia and Lee wouldn't hear. "When we're alone," she promised.

He eyed her, a thousand thoughts flickering behind his crystal eyes until finally he nodded his head once. "Okay," he said, his usual bright self. "Let's see this year's_ sketches_, then."

She hadn't had a chance to show them during their night at the Leaky Cauldron, it'd been far too hectic to worry about showing him her sketches. There had been more important things to do; like eat and catch up with one another.

"I've got a whole heap to show you," she told him, picking up her bag and fetching her sketchbook from its depths. It was leather bound and fraying at the spine from constant use, but she always insisted it was just well-loved.

She cracked it open to the earliest of her summer visions, placing it half in her lap and half in his, making sure they were the only two who could see them.

The first picture was an inky black figure that floated in a sea of nothing, draped only in torn robes. In fact, the next three were exactly the same, the difference only in the backgrounds, the creepy figure staying exactly the same.

"I have no idea what it's supposed to be," she admitted with a frown, delicate brows pulled together in worry. "Creepy as fuck, though, don't you think?" she added with a look of distaste, reaching forwards to flick through the batch of rough sketches, done by a blind but steady hand.

"It looks kind of like something dad told us about..." Fred trailed off, only to suddenly shake his head as though to clear it. "You should probably talk to Dumbledore though, because I wouldn't have a proper clue."

Winona had expected this. Besides, she'd never had a continuous pattern of premonitions before, it made her wonder what was so important about these eerie cloaked figures that made her 'inner eye' so focused on them.

Deciding to wait until she spoke to the Headmaster, she flicked to the next one. It was of a rat, the thing sitting on its back, struggling to get to its feet. "Looks like Scabbers," Fred said, and she had to agree. She didn't know of any other rats that would be worth a vision. Shrugging, she turned to the next one, frowning down at it wearily.

It was the one of Sirius Black she'd done the night before. Fred hummed, hardly as affected by the sight of it as she had been. Sensing his lack of worry, she moved onto the next one, knowing there'd be time to talk about Black later.

It was a drawing of a large, shaggy looking dog. It peered out from behind a log at the edge of a village. It was coloured in with dark pastels that had stained her fingers for weeks, which she wouldn't have minded had she been able to remember doing so. Winona peered down at the forgotten artwork, vaguely remembering dark flashes of teeth and snarls, but otherwise having no other hints as to what it meant.

"I don't know why a _dog_ would be significant enough to warrant a vision," she complained quietly, running a finger over the paper. The dog felt familiar too, like she knew it, like she could almost remember how it smelled. "But I suppose it's a step up from a rat," she said simply, shaking her head to clear it.

"This was the last drawing you did?" Fred sounded oddly choked. She glanced up, warily taking in his pale face and the wide eyes that were focused intently on her sketch.

"Yeah, it was a few weeks ago now. I actually haven't had a vision since," she added. They'd taken to calling her premonitions 'visions'. She felt it sounded less daunting than 'episodes' or 'fits'. It was slightly misleading, as she wouldn't really say she _saw_ much of anything – just horrible, frightening flashes.

Fred only seemed to get whiter.

"Fred?" she asked cautiously.

"Lee, go tell Alicia to buy us some extra chocolate frogs," he said abruptly, glancing impatiently over at his dreadlocked friend. He still sounded hoarse, but seemed to be forcing a happier tone for the sake of the others.

"What?" Lee was confused by the sudden demand.

"Go on, mate," George said quickly, nudging him away with an easy smirk. "We'll pick this up when you get back," he added, gesturing to their half-finished game.

Lee shot the lot of them a suspicious look but knew it was better to listen to them rather than find himself at the business end of a nasty prank. He slipped out the door, and they waited until it had clicked shut behind him before they began talking.

"What is it?" George asked, staring over at his twin warily, gaze flickering between the pair of them.

Fred snatched the sketchbook from the blonde's hands, shoving it at George's chest. He struggled to grab ahold of it in time, finally holding it in both hands and peering down at the sketch before him, uncharacteristically bleak.

"What is it?" Winona demanded, beginning to feel awfully worried. "One of you talk. Now."

"Winona," Fred began gently, as though afraid of frightening her, an echo of horror etched into his crystal gaze. "That's the Grim."

She was silent, not sure how to react. Did they expect her to know what that was? They were staring at her as though waiting for a breakdown in a mess of tears. "What's the Grim?" she asked carefully, waiting for them to tell her the worst possible answer – though she wasn't even sure what that would be.

"It's-it's an omen of death," George whispered, swallowing nervously and glancing around the compartment suspiciously, as if awaiting their imminent murder.

Winona was speechless. "...It's a _dog_," she finally said; slowly, as though she were speaking to children or the mentally handicapped.

"She was raised by Muggles, of _course_ she wouldn't know," Fred spoke to his twin quickly, suddenly looking very tired.

"It's in plenty of books, though."

"When have you ever known her to read a book that wasn't about art styles or letter fonts?"

"Fair point."

"_Boys_," she snapped, interrupting their hushed discussion. Usually she'd let it go on, but she was more impatient than she could ever remember being. They turned to look at her, and she found the sombre look in their nearly identical blue eyes to be disturbing.

She raised her eyebrows, awaiting a more in-depth explanation. George looked like he was trying to figure out how to break terrible news to her, while Fred was staring at her sorrowfully, like she were already dead. She met his eyes, hesitant and concerned, and suddenly he didn't look so much wistful as he did determined.

"Everyone who's ever seen the Grim has … they've died within a day," George finally told her, sounding oddly choked. "Nobody's ever seen it and survived."

She definitely wouldn't call herself a skeptic by any means – she was a future-sketching, wand-wielding witch, for Merlin's sake – but even _that_ was a little far fetched. "That just sounds like folklore to me," she murmured even as a real, genuine, uncomfortable concern began to appear in her gut, spreading through her system like a cancer.

"So are dragons and wizards, to most of the world's population," he argued gently, still staring like he expected her to burst into tears. Slightly irritating – she thought he knew her better than that. "Besides, our uncle Bilius saw it once," he added through a grimace. "He was dead the next day."

The mild concern was quickly blooming into full-blown anxiety, and she pressed a hand over her stomach as though that might in some way help. She was relatively new to the Wizarding world, at least she was compared to the twins. She trusted them, because they knew more about these things than she likely ever would.

"Okay, let's think logically," she spoke clearly, the confidence in her own voice surprising her, as well as the words. As a rule, looking at things _logically _was never the way to go. She must have been spending too much time around Hermione. "_I'm _not always the one witnessing the picture, right?" she said softly, thinking over her last year of school. "I drew scenes from inside the Chamber last year, things I never saw. Things only _Harry_ saw."

The twins hesitated. "That's true," they admitted after a moment, glancing at each other as they spoke.

"So maybe I'm not the one who's going to see this..._Grim_...thing," she suggested, clinging onto hope.

"Don't you find it strange that the Grim was the last thing you drew?" Fred asked, strong brow furrowed as he reached up to run a hand through his wild red hair. "And that you haven't had any visions _since_ then?"

"Are you saying you think I'm going to die?" she asked, shuffling back on the seat so she could properly stare at him, daring him to agree.

"Of course not," he quickly backtracked, fiercely uncomfortable. "But I think it's something you need to consider."

"...So what am I meant to do if I see it?" she demanded, honestly needing to know. Surely there was a way to cheat death; Harry had done it loads of times, hadn't he?

"I think, first things first, you need to take this to Dumbledore," Fred wasn't usually one to suggest bringing the Headmaster in on _anything_, but when it came to Winona, he always seemed to be willing to bend his own rules.

"Definitely," she nodded, agreeing with him, reaching forwards to pluck her sketchbook from George's limp hands. She glanced down at the sketch that had, only minutes ago looked completely harmless. It now looked like a death sentence. She felt sick again and quickly slammed the book shut, shoving it back into her bag and heaving a shaky sigh.

She was okay. She was alive. And that wasn't going to change any time soon.

"You look like you swallowed a toad flavoured bean," George said brightly, still terribly concerned, however he was never one to linger on the negative. He'd resolved to not let them wallow in their worry. If he wanted anything, it was for everyone to keep smiling.

Knowing this, Winona couldn't help but crack a small grin, shaking her head at her friend's ridiculousness. "Better than that vomit one you choked down last year," she sniped back, and George laughed at the memory. Winona chuckled too, feeling better already, knowing she had the twins at her side to keep her grinning, come hell or high water.

For once though, Fred wasn't smiling. Instead he had a look of fierce determination on his face. He watched her laugh, taking in the way her nose crinkled and her cheeks dimpled, something he'd never really noticed before then. Watching her he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that _nothing_ was going to lay hands on her.

Because they'd have to go through _him,_ first.

The train came to an abrupt stop, lurching so violently that Winona just about fell from her seat. The lights flickered then went out completely, plunging them into darkness. The door opened and Lee's voice asked, "what's going on?"

"Do we look like we know?" George countered sarcastically.

"I can't see you enough to figure it out," he quipped, only to grunt when somebody shoved him further into the compartment.

"We can't possibly be there yet," Alicia was saying, stumbling into the compartment and feeling around for the space beside Winona. She settled into the spot, arms laden with sweets.

Winona glanced out the window, but the torrential rain made it absolutely impossible to see anything outside. The train creaked as though the doors were opening, and she felt an inexplicable shiver, suddenly unbearably cold.

"What's happening?" Alicia sounded frightened now, her voice shaking, all of them very clearly sensing something was wrong. None of them could answer, for none of them knew.

The door burst open, and a familiar head of platinum blonde hair tripped into the room, accompanied by a girlish squeak as the figure sprawled across the floor.

"Malfoy?" Fred asked, more than a little bemused as he stared down at the terrified Slytherin, who looked like he was about to wet himself in his dread.

A figure began to float through the corridor, inky black and eerie and suddenly none of them could have cared less about the third year pureblood shaking like a leaf on the floor of their compartment. Winona gasped, instantly recognising the frightening outline through the glass on the door. Nobody seemed to notice the strangled sound that fell from her lips, all except Fred, who crept forwards, silently wrapping a solid arm around her middle. Her hands reached up, fingers curling around the strong expanse of muscle that was his forearm in a move that was beginning to grow familiar.

She'd seen a lot of her sketches come true over the last four years, more than she'd have liked. But if she'd been able to wish for any _not_ to come true, it would be the one in front of her eyes.

Under the frayed hood of the cloak was only more inky blackness, no face discernible through the thick shadows.

Every single happy thought seemed to be sucked from her brain, and all at once it was as though she were curled up in a corner, hands held up to cover her head protectively as tall, terrible people screamed at her, hatred dripping from their voices. A combination of memories from her past, it was all she could think of. Being small and alone and so sure the world was going to end.

The only thing that kept her in the compartment, that kept her in the present moment, was the familiar weight of Fred's arm around her. She clutched him tighter, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. Her nails were biting into his skin but he barely noticed, only squeezing her tighter as he fought off his own inner demons.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the figure was gone, disappearing from their view. The heavy weight of its dark presence lingered. There was a long, drawn out silence, then the lights flickered back on and train began to move once more, as though nothing had ever happened.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Lee demanded, staring at the empty doorway in horror.

"It was a dementor," the twins answered him, their voices hoarse. "Our dad told us about them," George continued, combing a hand through his wild red hair as though it would clean his mind of bad thoughts, "they're the guards of Azkaban."

The figure sprawled on the floor between them cleared their throat, and Malfoy stood awkwardly to his feet. He self-consciously adjusted his askew robes, cleared his throat once more, shot each of them a not-even-slightly intimidating glare before turning and storming from the compartment, nose held high in the air, trying to display what little dignity he had left.

"That was horrible," Alicia murmured, more to herself than any of the others, brown eyes glistening with tears as she recovered, and Winona got the feeling she wasn't talking about the appearance of Malfoy.

She inched forwards, wanting to comfort her friend though not sure how, only to find the arm around her middle remained, trapping her like a vice. Her back was flush against Fred's front, and she glanced over her shoulder, peering at him through her curtain of thick, moonlight-coloured hair.

His blue eyes were wide, still processing all that had happened, and finally they flickered down to the arm holding her to him. He cleared his throat, blinked dazedly and awkwardly removed the appendage, shoving his hands into his pockets for lack of a better use for them.

"Everyone okay?" Winona was the first to ask.

Her own voice was shaky, but it didn't worry her. She was more concerned about her friends. Alicia nodded her head warily, and the blonde reached out to wrap an arm her shoulders, hoping it would in some way bring her comfort. She squeezed gently, and once she was sure her friend wasn't going to burst into uncontrollable sobs, she glanced over at the boys, all pale and shellshocked.

"Guys?" she prompted cautiously, stormy eyes lingering on the shaken twins, who for once didn't seem to be able to make a joke – which was what worried her the most.

"I heard they suck out your soul, if you get too close," Lee commented, still eyeing the doorway, secretly afraid it would come back.

"Nah," George was quick to shake his head, the movement also serving to clear his cloudy mind of negativity. "Dad says you've gotta be sentenced by the Wizengamot for that to happen."

"Either way," Fred added, seeming to perk up along with his brother. "Hate to meet one of them in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley."

"You're not wrong," Winona murmured, deciding that maybe for once, a bit of extra study on this unknown creature wouldn't kill her. Besides, worse came to worst, she could always ask Hermione for specifics.

She glanced back over at the others, who were once more beginning a game of Exploding Snap, a rather weak attempt to banish the dark fog that had seemed to have settled around the group of close friends. Fred glanced up, meeting her eyes, and she knew what he was trying to convey.

She'd drawn the dementors months before knowing they even existed. And she hadn't just drawn one, she'd drawn _several_. He wanted her safe, and he wanted her to go straight to Dumbledore with what she had, if only to ensure she was protected.

And, for once, she was going to do exactly as he suggested.


	21. Someone he used to know

Winona woke up the next day feeling a hell of a lot better than when she'd gone to sleep. She supposed the value of a good rest really was priceless, especially when you rarely got one. She was still kind of grouchy, however, from the whole incident on the train with those…_things_.

The feast the night before had been great, and they found out that not only had Hagrid taken over as the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was announced.

Professor Lupin appeared frail, like a particularly strong gust of wind would cause him to keel over, but his eyes held a surprising warmth, and Winona had known instantly that she would like him and his class.

She walked down to breakfast, listening to Angelina talk about her summer, her overflowing messenger bag bumping against her hip with every step. "And my Aunt Jenny said she'd be sending me that new perfume I like for my birthday," she said happily, and Winona nodded, idly wishing she had an aunt to send her perfume for her birthday.

They took seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table, opposite the twins, who were inhaling bowls of porridge. "Snape looks more hateful than usual, wouldn't you say?" Winona asked with a glance up at the teacher's table, beginning to pull bacon and pancakes onto her plate.

Snape was scowling into his eggs with complete and utter loathing, and Winona wished she knew what was brilliant enough to make him that annoyed. The twins would want to bottle it.

"Here you are, Mr Weasley," McGonagall appeared by their side, handing out schedules. "Miss Andrews, Miss Johnson, Mr Weasley...and hand these out to Granger, Weasley and Potter, will you?" she finished as she placed a small stack on the table, then turned and walked further down the table without so much as a murmured farewell.

"Good old Minnie," Fred grinned. "Always so reliable."

"Give you two Sickles to call her Minnie to her face in class," Winona said impishly. Fred's grin only swelled.

"Deal."

Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared then, taking a seat to the left of George, who was just sipping his apple juice. "New third-year course schedules," he said once he'd swallowed, passing the stack of parchment over.

Winona noticed the forlorn expression Harry was wearing, and concern flooded her. "Everything all right, Harry?" she asked softly, and George finally paid enough attention to look at him more closely.

"What's up, short stuff?" he asked jovially, but Harry's frown only deepened.

"Malfoy," answered Ron from where he sat on his brother's other side.

Winona turned in her seat quickly enough to see Malfoy pretending to faint. "Why's he doing that?" she asked, spinning back to frown at the others in confusion.

Ron and the twins all suddenly looked awkward. "Well, you see, with the whole dementor attack…" Ron said slowly.

"Spit it out, Freckles," Winona said dangerously, stormy eyes sliding over each of them as she impatiently waited for a response.

"Harry passed out," Hermione spoke up, rolling her eyes as she realised nobody else wanted to tell her.

"He _what_?" she hissed, whirling around to pin Harry with a concerned scare. "What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Probably because they knew you'd react like _that_," Angelina chuckled into her pumpkin juice. Winona took the time to shoot her friend a sour stare before looking back at Harry, whose eyes were on his breakfast, cheeks a soft red.

She knew Harry didn't like to have things made a fuss about, so she reigned in her concern and simply asked, "all right, Boy-Wonder?"

"Yeah," he promised, looking up to meet her eyes, silently assuring her that he was fine.

"Look Harry, Malfoy's a little git," George said calmly, and Winona got the feeling Harry was relieved for the distraction. "He wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment, didn't he, Fred?"

"Nearly wet himself," confirmed Fred, with a contemptuous glance at Malfoy.

"I wasn't too happy myself," added George. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"

"Sort of freeze your insides, don't they?"

"You didn't pass out, though, did you?" said Harry in a low voice, bitter as he scowled down at his plate.

"Forget it, Harry," George told him bracingly. "Dad had to go out to Azkaban one time, remember, Fred? And he said it was the worst place he'd ever been, he came back all weak and shaking...they suck the happiness out of a place, dementors. Most of the prisoners go mad in there."

"Anyway, we'll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

Harry seemed to perk up at the thought, helping himself to more food, and the twins looked pleased by their success.

Winona went back to eating her breakfast, trying not to worry about Harry, telling herself that he was perfectly fine. The protective instinct she felt for the kid was surprising, but that's what it was: an instinct. She wasn't about to stop listening to it for normality sake.

She listened as Ron began quizzing Hermione about her overloaded schedule, but Hermione brushed him off. Winona was the only one who knew the truth – that she had a Time Turner on loan from the Ministry in order to attend all her classes. It had been Winona herself to warn Dumbledore that it would be necessary.

She decided not to tell Hermione that she knew, the girl had enough on her plate without worrying about Winona knowing her secret.

The fifth years had Potions first, something Winona couldn't have been more sour about. She pouted the whole way there, her bag dragging behind her along the uneven stone floor, the contents clacking together with every bump.

"Cheer up," the twins said brightly, nudging her as they walked.

"How can I possibly be cheery when we're about to be verbally assaulted by the Great Dungeon Bat for no reason other than daring to exist?" she asked bitterly, taking Ginny's name for the potions master and muttering it with a grouchy twist of her lips.

"Still sour from the dementor encounter?" Lee asked tactlessly. Alicia seemed to pale from where she was walking beside him.

"Didn't you eat any of the chocolate at the feast?" Angelina asked from where she was standing beside the twins.

"I'm _sour_ over the fact that Dumbledore is letting those _things_ hang around the castle," Winona replied tightly, not bothering to answer her other friend's question.

"It's not like they're inside the walls," Fred argued, unsurprisingly optimistic. "You'll barely even notice they're here."

Winona grumbled in response. Her bad mood was mostly due to the fact that she'd tried to find Professor Dumbledore after the feast the night before, only to find he'd already escaped to his office and, on top of that, McGonagall wouldn't give her the new password. She'd sent him an owl, telling him how urgent it was that they spoke, but all she could do was wait for a reply. She couldn't tell anyone but the twins this, however, so she blamed it on the dementors and Snape, figuring they were as good of a scapegoat as any.

The Potions master gave them a lecture on their OWLs, then instructed them to begin the Draught of Peace before stalking around the room and sneering over their shoulders at everything they did wrong. And that certainly didn't help Winona's mood.

Thankfully, the lesson went by quickly and with only five points taken from Gryffindor in the process. Despite this, she couldn't seem to shake the frown that stuck to her lips like a Permanent Sticking Charm.

Predictably, the twins weren't going to put up with her sulking for long, and as they left the dungeons and headed for the Great Hall for lunch, Fred slowed down to where she was straggling behind the group.

"Turn that frown upside down," he drawled around a cheesy grin.

"Not your best efforts, I'll admit," she murmured back. Despite her mood, the banter between them came as easily as breathing.

Fred nudged her lightly, causing her to finally look up and meet his sparkling blue eyes. "What's this really about?" he asked seriously, dropping his cheeky smirk to blink at her curiously, genuinely concerned.

She sighed, reaching up to rub at the aching spot above her left eyebrow. "I guess all those drawings of dementors...then seeing them on the train and having them around Hogwarts..." she trailed off, sighing again. "I guess it was just all a bit much. Maybe I'm like Harry, maybe it just affects me more than other people," she suggested, lifting a single shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

She glanced back up at her dearest friend, noticing he wasn't looking at her, but rather frowning at his feet, radiating unease. Winona felt a stab of guilt. She never wanted to be the reason either of the twins lost their smile, she'd sooner throw herself off the astronomy tower than let that happen.

"Hey," she nudged him back. He glanced at her in surprise, as if he'd briefly forgotten she was even there. "Turn that frown upside down," she echoed his words from before. He was quick to roll his eyes in mock exasperation while she forced herself to shoot him a grin.

"Good," he said suddenly, reaching up to tap her smiling lips with his index finger. "Keep that smile in place, and just maybe sometime soon it'll become real."

"There's a Muggle saying," she told him, doing as ordered and securing the (slightly forced) smile in place. "'Fake it till you make it'."

Fred beamed, liking the sound of that. "Brilliant," he chirped, the bounce in his step returning. "Fake it till you make it!" he repeated, enjoying the words on his tongue. "Sounds like our new motto." She chuckled, surprised to find that it wasn't as hard to force out as she'd thought it would be. "Y'know, maybe there's more to it than that," he suggested after a beat, and she looked up at him confusedly. "Well, you're a Seer, right?"

"Yes," she said slowly, brow furrowed as she looked up at him through narrowed, skeptical eyes.

"Maybe something bad's going to happen."

Winona hesitated. "I'm not that kind of Seer, though," she said, more to herself than to him. "It's always come across through art."

Fred shrugged, "didn't Trelawney once say your abilities may 'grow as you do'?" She was quiet, contemplating his words. "I mean, you knew Harry was going to get hurt in that Quidditch match last year – and you hadn't drawn that. And you knew exactly when to go save Hermione from the basilisk – still not happy about that, by the way – but you didn't draw that either. I think this is just your abilities as a Seer growing. You shouldn't be afraid of it. I think you should embrace it," he finished with a deep breath and a wide, supportive grin.

It was a possibility, and she had to admit it had merit. Still, the thought wasn't a pleasant one. If he was right – and he usually was – then by that logic something bad was going to happen. So the problem was just that; _something bad was going to happen._

"Anyway, I'm excited to see what this Lupin bloke is made of," he barrelled on, smoothly changing the subject when he realised it was the last thing Winona needed to be focusing on in that moment. She sagged with relief at his thoughtfulness. "Where do you reckon he'll sit on a scale of Quirrell to Lockhart?"

"You mean, on a scale of having You-Know-Who on the back of his head to being a useless, self-obsessed tosser?"

"Sounds about right," he grinned.

Winona laughed, shaking her head and adjusting the strap of her bag before speeding up, catching up to the rest of her group just as they were approaching the Great Hall. Lunch went by quickly, George and Angelina distracting her from her dread by engaging her in a conversation about the previous night's sorting.

By the time they were heading up to the Defence classroom she felt better, that much she couldn't deny, but there was still an inexplicable dread twisting deep within her gut.

The feeling only got worse when they stepped into the classroom to see a wardrobe standing in the middle of the room, wobbling back and forth as though something within it was struggling to get free. Winona swallowed, the sinking feeling in her gut getting worse, and though she had no idea what could have possibly been in the wardrobe, she knew it wasn't going to be fun.

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin greeted them politely, dark eyes sweeping over the gathered students. "Today will be a practical lesson only, so books away. Can anybody tell me what we're-?" he cut himself off abruptly. Winona was confused until she looked away from the wardrobe to find he was staring directly at _her_, his jaw dropped open.

Confused and just a tiny bit scared, her eyes widened in question. Why was he looking at her like that? Her heart stuttered in her chest.

The class shuffled where they stood, everyone wondering why the sudden pause.

Professor Lupin cleared his throat and looked away, seeming to take a second to gather his wits before turning back with that small, pleasant smile on his handsome, yet scarred, face. "Can anyone tell me what we're dealing with here?" he asked again, this time without pause, as if the brief moment had never happened.

Winona was still confused, replaying the way he'd looked at her over and over in her head. He'd stared at her like he'd _known her_. Like she were a ghost come back to haunt him. But how was that possible? She'd never met him in her life, had she?

There were no Hermione's in their group, so nobody's hand violently punched the air. Instead everybody shifted uncomfortably, hoping beyond all hope that they weren't going to be called on to answer.

"How about you, Mr Barrow?" Lupin finally asked, singling out the ugly Slytherin bully towards the back of the room.

"I dunno," he grumbled roughly, glaring at him for a moment before returning his angry, irritated gaze to the ground.

"Hm, how about you, Ms Spinnet?" Lupin moved on smoothly, gesturing for Alicia to answer instead.

"Uh, would it be a Boggart, Sir?" she attempted, eyeing the rattling wardrobe warily.

"Five points to Gryffindor," he said simply, smiling at her, his haggard face surprisingly bright as he turned to the wardrobe. "Now, what does a Boggart look like...Mr Weasley?" This time he looked directly at George, though Winona knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had no idea which twin it really was.

"Nobody knows," George responded confidently. The twins weren't ones to call out answers in class, but if they were called on, they were hardly ever wrong. They were a hell of a lot smarter than anybody, especially themselves, ever gave them credit for.

"And why is that?"

"Because they turn into the person's biggest fear."

"Precisely. Now, the charm to repel a Boggart is simple, but what will really finish it off will be _laughter_. What you'll be doing is forcing it into a shape we will find amusing."

"But Sir!" called Angelina suddenly, saying what everyone was thinking, "we covered Boggarts third year!"

"Yes, I know," Lupin told her patiently, and Winona grimaced at the memory of Quirrell trembling as he wrote the word 'Boggart' on the board. "But you've never had any practical experience with one. I thought we would do some revision, as it will come up in your OWLs."

The class at large let out a groan and the professor smirked at the sound.

The task ahead of them sounded simple enough, but Winona couldn't help but feel like it wasn't going to be a walk in the park. They went though the charm, then lined up to have an attempt at thwarting the faceless Boggart. Winona wondered what she feared the most.

She wasn't a huge fan of snakes, perfectly understandable considering the events of the year before. She didn't like rats – she'd always _hated_ Ron's stupid pet, Scabbers – but she wouldn't say she was _afraid_ of them, necessarily.

So, what _was _her biggest fear? What would the Boggart find worthy enough in her head to bother morphing into?

The people in front of her went, the class breaking out into laughter at what was ahead of them, but all Winona could focus on was what was going to appear in front of her. The person in front of her was afraid of mimes – which was weird, but she didn't like to judge – and he whimpered before his Boggart began to shrink down, curling in on himself as he seemed to be trapped inside of an invisible, shrinking box.

He stepped out of the way, smiling proudly to himself, and Winona was left in front of the thing to face her biggest fear. The shrunken mime stared up at her for a long moment then began to shift, spinning into itself too fast to see, only to reappear in an unexpected form.

A wizard stood in front of her, draped in heavy, purple robes with the Ministry of Magic insignia placed proudly on the chest. The wizard was leering at her darkly, eyes beady and cold, and he was tall, towering over her threateningly.

But the worst part was, by far, the thick, menacing, unbreakable chains held in his hands as he approached her slowly, a triumphant sneer on his face.

She realised, suddenly, that it couldn't have been anything else. This was her biggest fear – everyone finding out about her abilities as a Seer, being locked up for them, because people were afraid of the things she might know, or because they wanted her rare power for themselves. Because what was a more valuable asset than an all-access glimpse into the future?

Swallowing, Winona raised her wand, her hand trembling as she shouted, "Riddikulus!" and suddenly the chains had turned into balloon animals with terribly drawn faces, and the Auror was now draped in an absurd patchwork shawl with a cliché red ball fastened to his nose and a curly, rainbow wig was sitting atop his head.

The class behind her tittered, although she was sure none of them fully understood what they'd just seen.

Feeling oddly out of herself, Winona cracked a barely-real smile before wandering numbly to the back of the line. The rest of the class went smoothly, it was full of laughs and hilarious sights, but soon it was over and everyone was moving past her like a school of fish all floating from one end of the room to the other.

"Winona?" it was Fred's voice, and she realised she hadn't moved even though they'd been dismissed. Blinking, she quickly bent down to collect her things and throwing them over her shoulder and turning for the doorway, where the twins stood waiting.

"Miss...Andrews, was it?" the new Professor's voice rang out through the emptying room, and she paused, glancing over her shoulder to see him looking up from the class roll, as if he needed to confirm her name. "Winona?" he added, meeting her eyes across the room with a question, like he almost couldn't believe that was her name.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, bewildered.

"Are you all right?" he questioned carefully, looking over her as though assessing for damage.

"Yes, sir," she answered automatically, even though she wasn't even sure if it was the truth. Lupin nodded, still watching her closely. The weight of his eyes on her was unnerving, heavy and familiar in a way she couldn't explain. "Can I go, Professor?" she asked warily, gripping the strap of her bag tighter.

He paused, a shadow passing behind his kind eyes,. It was gone just as quick, replaced by cool professionalism. "Yes, of course," he said politely. "Have a nice afternoon."

"You too, sir," she said respectfully, then turned and met up with the twins hovering in the doorway. Both boys looked curious, and she knew questions were burning at their tongues, but they mercifully didn't voice them, for which she was grateful. She figured they'd make her talk about what had happened later on, but for now she was content to just suppress it and pretend like she was fine.

"Can you believe Barrow's greatest fear is lemon juice?" George snorted, kindly changing the subject, keeping it in safer waters.

"I hear he's deathly allergic to citrus," Winona said with a forced smirk. It made the twins snigger and begin loudly thinking up new pranks involving citrus fruits for the future.

At lunch, Winona took her seat to the left of Angelina while the twins wandered further up the table to talk to Wood about Quidditch.

"Crazy lesson, right?" her friend began conversationally, but Winona could do no more than shrug her shoulders. From across the table, Alicia drew Angelina into a conversation about Transfiguration, and Winona was distracted when Ron, Hermione and Harry all took heavy seats to her left.

"Harry," Ron said, in a low, serious voice, picking up his spoon but for once not making any move to begin eating, "you _haven't_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

The question made Winona's skin crawl, and she turned her full attention to the conversation, making no attempt to pretend she wasn't listening.

"Yeah, I have," replied Harry casually. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron looked like he was about to throw up at the news.

"Probably a stray," Hermione said calmly, and Winona had to wonder exactly what had happened to bring about this discussion.

"Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," Ron said blandly, going pale. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"

Heart racing in her chest, Winona took a deep gulp of juice to try and steady her nerves. "Coincidence," Hermione explained airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" hissed Ron, slowly turning from white to red. "The Grim scares the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," huffed Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Despite her concern over the subject, Winona managed a tiny smile of amusement. Ron was glaring but Hermione was paying him no attention, fishing out her Arithmancy book and propping it open in front of her.

"I think Divination seems very woolly," she added flippantly, fingering through the pages for something in particular. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"Well, that's a little insulting," Winona finally spoke up, and Hermione glanced up, eyes wide like she'd been stunned. Her cheeks went a rosy pink, and her mouth fell open as she scrambled for an appropriate response.

Winona stared back impassively, kind of pleased to see her speechless while Harry and Ron were somewhere halfway between gaping and grinning.

"I-I didn't mean _you_, Winona," the girl eventually murmured, embarrassed and just a little ashamed. "I just mean Trelawney, well, she's..." Hermione trailed off, unsure how to proceed. Winona cocked an eyebrow, and she seemed to turn a darker shade of red.

"What happened, exactly?" Winona finally asked, taking pity on Hermione and turning her attention to Harry.

"Professor Trelawney says I have the Grim," he told her, seeming blithely unconcerned. Ron was back to looking terrified.

"She saw it in his tea leaves," the redheaded Gryffindor said, nodding his head. "I did too, it was _definitely_ the Grim!"

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," Hermione said coolly, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura!" Ron exclaimed as a last resort to win the argument. Harry and Winona exchanged wary glances. "You just don't like being bad at something for a change!"

Hermione slammed her book against the table with enough force that the food on her plate went flying, but she remained unperturbed, glaring at the taller boy heatedly. "If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer!" she hissed, and Ron had the decency to look scared. "That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!"

She shot Ron one final glower before snatching up her bag and stalking away. "What's she talking about?" Ron asked the others bewilderedly. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

Winona knew this wasn't the case, but said nothing as she'd promised.

"What about you, Winona?"

"Yeah, I love Arithmancy – it's the only class that I find comes easy; I've always been weirdly good with numbers-"

"Not _that_," Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation, and Winona frowned. "Have you had any…y'know…_visions_, about the Grim?" he asked, keeping his voice low so nobody would overhear the forbidden word.

Winona considered lying, but decided that didn't help anyone (except maybe Dumbledore, though she wasn't exactly sure how). "Yeah, actually," she nodded. Ron's expression rearranged into something akin to horror.

"So Harry really _is_ going to die?" he asked, eyes wide as he stared at Harry like the kid was already dead.

"Of course not," Winona forced a chuckle, picking up a few pieces of sliced apple and chewing on them carelessly as she spoke. Ron looked confused. "For all I know, it could have just been a regular dog," she said, and Harry nodded eagerly. "Harry isn't going to die, Ron," she told him when he didn't look at all convinced.

And as much as she hated it, she wished _she_ was more convinced, too, because she couldn't help the feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her, clear as day, that absolutely _nothing_ was as it seemed.

* * *

Winona was relieved when, a week into term, she _finally_ got a response from Dumbledore.

_Miss Andrews,_

_Please join me for tea and liquorice snaps in my office once classes have concluded for the day._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

_PS: I've always been fond of Cauldron Cakes._

Winona let out an audible sound of relief, smiling down at the paper as though it wasn't a hastily scribbled note from the Headmaster.

"Who's that from, then?" Angelina spoke up from opposite her, leaning over the table to get a better look before frowning when the note was moved from her field of vision, Winona folding it up and shoving it deep into her bag where nobody could see it.

"Oh, is it a secret admirer?" Alicia goaded from beside her, lips pulled up into a playful smirk.

Winona rolled her eyes but didn't answer. She couldn't tell them it was from Dumbledore – that would only warrant more questions – so she just smirked back, deciding to let them think what they wanted. She turned back to Lee and the twins, who were discussing McGonagall's mountain of assigned homework over stacks of pancakes and bacon.

"He finally get back to you?" Fred was perched beside her, and left his current conversation long enough to mumble the words from the corner of his mouth. She nodded, reaching forwards and pulling some shaved ham onto her empty plate, knowing it would be a long afternoon. "That's good, isn't it? He'll be able to answer your questions," he continued quietly, watching as she filled her goblet with juice.

"I hope so," she mumbled back before tuning into what Lee was saying; something about the theory of Vanishing Spells.

Classes went by quickly, and before she knew it Winona was standing outside the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for the long conversation ahead.

"Cauldron Cakes," she forced herself to say, and the intricately carved gargoyle leapt out of the way, revealing the stairs leading to the office. She knocked twice on the door, half hoping he wouldn't hear, but a moment later he was telling her to enter. With a wince she pushed open the heavy door and slipped inside the familiar room.

It wasn't anything new to them, she'd been visiting the Headmaster every few weeks since her first year. He was incredibly interested in her sketches, she had a feeling he liked knowing the future more than he let on. Sometimes too much. She sometimes felt uneasy showing him everything she sketched. Why did he need to know? Why did it matter _so much_?

But what choice did she really have?

"Hello, Miss Andrews," he greeted her formally, smile welcoming from under his heavy white beard. "Your usual?" he asked politely, and she nodded, watching as he waved his wand lazily and the tea began pouring itself. "I apologise for not being able to meet sooner. I had a feeling there wasn't anything too urgent to discuss, and I had matters to attend to."

"It's okay, Professor," she assured him gently, taking the cup that was now hovering in front of her, pulling it to her lips to take a deep sip.

"I trust your summer was enjoyable?" he asked conversationally. Winona never was one for smalltalk, placing her teacup on the awaiting saucer with a gentle clink. "I get the sense you'd like to get straight to business," he said, sobering somewhat, not as innocently cheerful as he had been only moments ago.

She responded by pulling her sketchbook from her bulging bag, flicking it open to a certain page and placing it on his desk, just under his nose. He adjusted the half-moon spectacles on his face, glittering blue eyes focused on the eerie drawing of a Dementor, hovering above the ground, the tatters of its cloak brushed back by the wind.

"That's not all," she said, reaching across to turn the page, not once, but twice, showing him the unusually large number of times she'd sketched the dark, sinister creatures. "I don't understand. I've never drawn the same thing twice before."

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, considering the images before him and what she was saying. "There's no reason to let this bother you as it has been, Miss Andrews," he finally said, looking back up at her calmly, no hint of worry in his twinkling eyes.

"Then why did I draw them over and over again?" she demanded, then took a breath as she realised she was getting worked up, her anxiety like a ball of scrunched up wire in her stomach.

"I believe they will play an important part in the upcoming year," he spoke thoughtfully, a pensive look on his wizened, aged features. "You picked that up, and that is why you've drawn them more than once."

"That's all?" she asked hesitantly. Rationally she knew that was the only answer that made sense. What else could it possibly be? But the day on the train had made her so paranoid. She'd never encountered a creature so dark before.

"That's all," he nodded. "Though, if it would reassure you, I'd be more than happy to call Professor Trelawney up here-"

"That won't be necessary," she interjected just slightly too fast, pressing her lips shut and hoping she didn't sound too desperate. "I mean, I believe you."

Dumbledore smiled that secret little smile, like he knew _exactly _what was going on in your head, more so than you yourself did. "What else did you have to show me?" he asked, and she reached forwards to flick ahead to the new sketches that he hadn't yet seen.

She hesitated, almost scared to show him the next one. What if he confirmed what the twins had suspected? What if it really was an omen of her death?

"Then there's this..." she trailed off, opening the page to the big black dog before sitting back in the comfortable chair and burying her face in her teacup, sipping the calming drink slowly, if only to procrastinate having to ask the glaringly obvious question.

He was disconcertingly silent, staring down at the drawing with a far too serious look in his intelligent, knowing eyes.

Winona made to take another sip of tea, only to find her cup empty. She bit her lip, sighing out through her nose before placing it back on the desk and telling herself to grow a pair and speak up. "Am I going to die, Sir?"

Dumbledore looked up at her serenely. "We're all going to die, someday," he told her evenly, and she wished the twins were there, just so she could send _someone _an exasperated glare.

"Is it the Grim?" she asked, not bothering to play along with his conspicuous brush off.

The Headmaster tilted his head, observing her closely. She wondered if he was really reading her mind, and quickly conjured up a picture of Snape in women's lingerie just in case. However, there wasn't so much as a twitch on his face to suggest he'd seen the disgusting image. She herself cringed, wishing she'd thought up a better test, one that wouldn't stain her mind for all of eternity.

"Do _you_ think it's the Grim?" he finally countered, that pensive look returning to his face, his hands steepled in front of him, elbows draped by red robes resting upon the desktop.

"Fred and George do," she admitted, eyes flickering down to the picture.

Dumbledore didn't blink. "But do _you_?"

She was silent, considering the words. "Harry was in divination last week," she began tightly, unsure if he knew this already but deciding to go ahead and tell him anyway. "Professor Trelawney read his tea leaves…she saw the Grim."

She frowned, feeling her brow begin to ache from the constant furrowing she was doing.

"That can't be a coincidence, can it?" she asked once more meeting his knowing eyes, genuinely needing to hear his response. "Sir?" she prompted when he said nothing, her heart racing in her chest.

"I suppose that depends on whether or not you believe in coincidences," he eventually answered her, frustratingly cryptic.

She groaned, unable to keep the sound from escaping. She reached up to rub at her temples, gritting her teeth in disgruntlement.

"Do you?" he pressed, curious.

She hesitated, irritation fading as she pondered the question. "I'm a Seer," she reminded him, and the word tasted bitter on her tongue. "Of _course_ I don't believe in coincidences."

"Hm," he hummed, lips twitching under his white beard.

Things went quiet, Winona pensive while the Headmaster watched her intently. "I've started getting these intense...bad vibes?" It sounded like a question because she didn't know how else to put it. Somehow those words didn't seem to capture the fierceness of the feelings she was having. "In my gut, before something bad happens, I feel this twist of dread. Fred says it could be my abilities growing, as Trelawney said they might."

She took a deep breath, counting to three before letting it out slowly.

"But the thing is, I've been having the feeling all the time. It never stops; it's like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though I have no idea what that might look like."

Dumbledore considered her words carefully. "I think you should meet with the Divination Professor soon to talk about these...bad vibes," the casual phrase sounded weird coming from his mouth. "She has more authority on the matter than I could ever have."

Trelawney was a bit of a joke, of that much she and her friends were certain. She'd rather hear it from Dumbledore himself, but she wasn't about to argue with the wizard over it. "I'll talk to her at our next session."

"Which is when?"

"Next Monday night."

He seemed pleased, smiling before pushing a small bowl of sweets in her direction. "Liquorice Snap?" he asked politely, and just because she didn't want to say no she reached forwards and took a handful, promptly shoving them into her mouth so she wouldn't have to talk.

Dumbledore let her go quickly after that. Once he'd made copies of her drawings – as he did every time they met – he'd told her she was free to leave and waved her off with a smile. Despite his oddities, the Headmaster was enough of an authority that she felt slightly better about the whole thing.

She paused as she stood to her feet, a sudden thought stabbing at her brain. She knew it wasn't going to go away, and that it was better to just get it over with and ask.

"Professor?" she asked, adjusting the strap of the bag over her shoulder. The Headmaster looked up from where he was stroking a finger down Fawkes' crimson feathers. "I just had a question..." she trailed off, wondering how to word it. She swallowed the nerves building in her stomach, refusing to admit that she was scared of his answer. "It's Professor Lupin," she began again, embarrassingly unsteady. "When he saw me for the first time the other week, he looked at me like…"

"Like what, Winona?" Dumbledore pressed when she wouldn't finish, maddeningly patient.

"Like he was seeing a ghost, sir," she said, tilting her chin up to give herself strength.

Dumbledore's expression didn't so much as twitch, he didn't even blink, just staring back at her pleasantly. "Perhaps you remind him of someone he used to know," he suggested innocently, but to Winona, it only seemed to echo with everything he _wasn't_ saying.

"Right," she murmured, swallowing again. "Have a good evening, Professor," she said in crisp farewell, leaving the room without looking back.

Despite the last few minutes, the meeting with the Headmaster had actually been of some help. She wasn't as worried about the dementors, and she was somewhat calmed about the supposed _Grim_ situation too. She walked back to Gryffindor Tower with the knot of anxiety in her gut slowly unfurling, and she hoped that for once she might be able to get more than just a few hours of fitful sleep.

Monday night approached quickly, and before Winona knew it, she was walking up towards the North Tower like a prisoner on death row.

"_Cheer up_," the twins had told her earlier with unrestrained sniggers, "_if nothing else, Trelawney's always good for a laugh_."

She climbed the stairs, heading up to the attic that Trelawney called a classroom. As usual, the scents wafting through the room made Winona's head spin, so she tried to breathe only through her mouth as she made her way over to the front of the room where a low table was set up, a tea set sitting on its surface and two embellished cushions placed on either side.

Cautious, half expecting something to leap out from beneath a table and bite her, Winona wandered over, taking a seat on the closest cushion and waiting for the batty Divination professor to appear.

"I see your inner eye is wider than ever, my dear!" Trelawney's wheezy voice said, and Winona flinched in surprise, turning to see the Divination teacher in the corner of the room. She wandered closer, the bells on her outfit jingling with every step.

"Good evening, Professor," Winona greeted her, but the older witch barely acknowledged her, simply taking a seat opposite her and beginning to fill each of their cups with boiling water.

"My third years are learning to read tea leaves this term," she rasped as their tea steeped, her eyes locked on Winona, magnified times a thousand by her ridiculous glasses. "I thought _we_ would touch on the ancient art, also."

"Sounds good," Winona murmured, for lack of anything better to say.

Trelawney wasn't one to make smalltalk, and Winona was more than content to sit in silence as they sipped their tea, her looking out the window while the Professor looked at her. She knew there were questions she needed to ask while she had the chance, and she reluctantly turned back to the older Seer to ask them.

"Professor, I had some questions," she said, and the batty old witch blinked her large eyes slowly. Taking this as a good sign, Winona continued. "I've been getting…well, I've been calling them 'bad vibes'." Trelawney only continued to blink. "It's like a heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach. I get it before something bad happens."'

"Your inner eye is warning you of things to come," Trelawney told her with a croak.

"But why wouldn't I just get a vision?"

"Some things the inner eye sees cannot be translated by the mortal flesh," Trelawney rasped slowly, reaching up to adjust her vomit-green shawl.

Winona wasn't sure she understood, but the Professor didn't elaborate, so she just nodded her head as though this made perfect sense. "Also, well, I had a question about…about the Grim."

She sounded pathetic as she asked, voice wavering from her worry.

Trelawney flinched and gasped as though she'd said Voldemort's name aloud, raising a hand to her heart and peering through her thick glasses in horror. "What do you know of..._the_ _Grim_?" she asked breathlessly.

Suddenly deciding _against_ telling her of her sketch involving the big, menacing dog, Winona instead chose a scapegoat and ran with it. "I heard you saw it in Harry's teacup last week," she said, choosing her words carefully and watching the professor's expression twitch.

"Poor boy," Trelawney tutted sadly. "A life so short lived."

"Harry isn't going to die," the words were out before Winona had even realised she'd spoken. "I would see it," she insisted, because if that wasn't the case, then what was the point of her? "I would _know_."

Trelawney tutted once again, reaching out and gently patting her folded hands, like she was pitying the young Gryffindor, which only made her more irritated. "My dear," Trelawney sighed heavily, voice laced with sympathy. "You can't control what you _see_ any more than you can control the change of the weather," she said, quite possibly the sanest, most helpful thing the old witch had ever said in her life.

Finishing off her tea, Winona held out her teacup hopefully. "Tell me what you see?"

Trelawney looked surprised. Every time they met, it was to convene about Winona's visions of _other_ people. Never before had she asked to have a reading for _herself. _

"Why?" rasped Trelawney, not unkind, but also making no move to grasp her cup.

Winona took a deep breath as she carefully considered her answer. "Because I feel like I'm on the cusp of something huge. Because I feel like nothing I see is as it seems, like I'm being lied to constantly, about everything. Because I want to know if I'm going to be okay," she blurted, the words flowing like vomit.

But apparently this was the right thing to say, because Trelawney finally took her cup, peering into it through her large, ridiculous glasses.

The professor stared into it for a few moments, careful and considering, muttering something under her breath every now and then while Winona watched on, nerves building in her stomach like a charge.

"I see a constellation of stars, meaning good fortune," Trelawney finally began to speak, and Winona leant forwards on her uncomfortable, sequinned cushion, her heart beating in her ears. "I see a heart, representative of a new lover," she rasped, and Winona's eyes went wide in something caught between shock and embarrassment. "It's indistinct, however, suggesting your new lover to be fickle," she tutted, voice laced with pity. Trelawney looked up at her, eyes magnified by her glasses. "You're facing a love that won't be easy, this year, dear girl. See this blurred anchor? It means you'll be unlucky in love this coming school year."

Winona felt incredibly uncomfortable, talking about her love life with Trelawney like it wasn't flooding her with absolute mortification. "And, uh, what would you, um, suggest I do…about that?" she stumbled over the words awkwardly.

Trelawney tutted, smiling sympathetically. "I would suggest you be wary of with whom you share your bed," said the teacher plainly, blinking at her obliviously.

"Whoa! Okay, no," Winona hissed, cheeks so red they might as well have been on fire. "We're done," she said, tripping as she struggled to get to her feet.

"Was it something I said?" asked Trelawney, still gripping Winona's cup in her embellished fingertips.

"I've gotta go," Winona muttered, absolutely humiliated. "Owl me about our next meeting," she said, rushing towards the door. Trelawney didn't argue, for which she was grateful.

Winona barrelled down the staircase, trying to control the embarrassment at having _that_ discussion with a _teacher_ – and also wondering exactly what the hell it all meant. But, she supposed, at least she had something to worry about that _wasn't _related to dementors or the Grim or Sirius fucking Black.

* * *

Winona was curled up in her favourite corner of the common room only a week or two later, happily sucking on a sugar quill as she sketched with her free hand, trying to get the dragon's wings _just _right, when…

"Andrews!" the twins shouted in the same instant, but being in a full room already brimming with noise, it wasn't such a shock, so she merely looked up blankly, waiting for them to tell her what they wanted.

"Hm?" she hummed in acknowledgement when neither spoke, looking up at the pair who were practically bouncing on the balls of their feet. "What is it?" she asked, their eagerness rubbing off on her as she watched them, knowing something either _really_ _good_ or _really_ _bad_ was about to happen.

"If you would follow us, My Lady," Fred dipped into a low bow, extending a lanky arm in the direction of the stairs. George was kneeled by them, pointing in the same direction, smiling invitingly, only to flinch and scowl when a passerby knocked him unapologetically in the head.

"Hm, you _know_ how much I like the royal treatment," she smirked, shoving her sketchbook into the depths of her cluttered bag before reaching up to take Fred's offered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She let go, wandering over to where George was knelt, patting him gently on the head before taking the stairs two at a time then turning to the left, heading up to the boys' dorm.

She didn't bother knocking on the door to the fifth years' room, opening it and slipping inside, not having to wait even a moment before the twins threw themselves through the doorway and slammed it shut behind them before they raced around to stand in front of Lee's bed, which had the curtains drawn.

George gestured to the bed opposite the one they were clearly using in their plot, one she knew to be Fred's, with Lee sitting on it off to the side with a grin on his lips, and she laughed as she let her bag drop to the floor before climbing onto the springy mattress and crawling into the centre of the bed, plucking a pillow on the way and holding it in her lap, resting her chin in the dip as she waited patiently for the show to start.

The twins cleared their throats in unison, pulling out their wands and holding them to their throats, using the amplifying charm that they'd only just learned in class the other day.

"Thank you all for coming!" George's voice bellowed, a cheeky grin on his face as he spoke, making Winona giggle.

"We'll start by saying this: you've heard of _Zonko's_!" Fred began giddily. "Now, prepare yourselves for…"

They both reached their wands out, gently tapping the curtains which obediently flew open, exposing Lee's bed which held a piece of parchment hung like a banner across the top and a plate from the kitchens with a few small balls of what appeared to be some kind of candy sitting in the centre. "_Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" _the twins announced with brilliant beams, flicking their wands, streamers bursting from the tips.

The two friends broke out into ecstatic cheers; Winona had never felt so proud. The twins had been talking about their dream of opening a joke shop ever since they'd first become friends. She knew they needed a brand, not to mention a name, and it seemed they had finally settled on something permanent – and she _loved it_.

She cheered louder, both her and Lee going crazy as they clapped, the twins eating up the praise like flowers in the rain. They bowed deeply, thanking them in humble tones, but even they couldn't keep the grins from their lips.

"Okay, okay!" Fred eventually had to calm them all down. "Quiet please!"

Winona gave a few more cheers before finally falling silent and leaning back with a proud beam, hugging his pillow tighter to her, so insanely happy for the pair. They were glowing, so proud of _themselves_, and that was the best part to her. They deserved everything and more. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this would work out for them. It may be a long and rough road, but one day she'd be standing in their store watching as their stock sold out, kids unable to get enough of their brilliant inventions.

"Now, this here is what we call a Nosebleed Nougat," George told them eagerly, leaning down to pluck one of the small candies from the plate, holding it up to the light for them to observe.

"It was our very dear friend, Miss Winona Andrews, whom first gave us the idea," Fred continued, smiling broadly.

"It's from our brand new _Skiving Snackbox_ range."

"In this one tiny candy holds the power to get you excused from class in moments!"

Winona remembered telling them she wished there was a potion to do that very thing, and she hadn't ever felt so helpful in her life. She beamed pure light at Fred, who grinned back goofily.

"Now, obviously, this can't be done alone," George was saying, and Winona realised all her focus was on his twin, so she pulled her gaze back to the redhead talking, giving him her full attention. "So, we've decided-"

"Out of the goodness of our hearts-"

"To hire you both."

Lee laughed, clapping his hands in amusement. "And what, exactly, will we be doing?" he asked eagerly, reaching up to adjust his dreadlocks.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Fred asked.

"You'll be our guinea pig," George exclaimed jovially.

"And you'll be our marketing manager!" Fred finished, looking directly at Winona.

"Your marketing manager?"

"Your guinea pig?"

The two friends asked their questions in the same moment, neither apparently very pleased with their new job titles. "We'd offer you something more, Lee, but let's be honest, what do you really bring to the table, talent-wise?" George asked, sending Winona into peals of laughter, head thrown back as she giggled.

"Not sure why you're laughing, _marketing manager_," Lee sneered rudely, but Winona wasn't worried, only laughing louder, clutching Fred's pillow tighter against her in her mirth.

"All we're asking from you, Winona," Fred continued, amusement obvious as he watched his friend slowly recover, "for now, at least, is to design a proper logo." He glanced up at the hanging piece of parchment, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes _scrawled across it in his own messy penmanship. "The current one's a tad dismal."

Winona smiled, suddenly the task before her didn't seem so terrifying. "I can do that," she told them happily, mind already fluttering about from font to font, trying to pick the best one to suit the name.

"Of course, in weeks and months and years to come, we'll need you to aid in the development of packaging as well as advertisements and then, eventually, store layout," George added blithely.

Winona hoped she didn't look as pale as she felt. It sounded like a lot of responsibility, but Fred was quick to reassure her. "We'll build up to it all, of course. Plus, we'll be helping along the way. It is _Weasley's _Wizard Wheezes, after all," he told her, winking as he finished, and Winona was only slightly surprised to find it did in fact comfort her to know that.

"So, do they actually work?" Lee asked suddenly, hopping off the bed and moving over to the makeshift display, picking up one of the sweets and holding it up to the light, peering at it critically.

"You tell me," George grinned, reaching out to pass the chunk he was holding to Fred, who took it with a relaxed smile before taking a bite and chewing for a few long moments.

They all waited with bated breath, until finally a trickle of blood ran from his nose, dribbling over his lips and to his dimpled chin. Winona beamed, unendingly proud of her boys. She clapped again, and the twins dipped into another bow.

After a moment, however, she noticed a downside to the little gag. "Um, boys?" she began, and they grinned at her curiously, Fred grimacing when he got blood in his mouth. "How do you make it stop?" she asked hesitantly, and just like that the giddiness was gone from their faces.

"Ah," George murmured, turning to look at Fred who was frowning, lips just about welded together to keep blood from dripping in. "Well, we did make the antidote. Sometimes it works, but other times..."

"I think now would be a good time to take it," she said, eyeing Fred closely as more blood seemed to drip from his face. George scrambled to pick up a little grey coloured piece, reaching over to stuff it past his twin's bloody lips. Fred chewed for a long minute, but instead of stopping it, the blood only seemed to come faster and thicker. "Oh hell," she cursed, dropping Fred's pillow and rushing to his side. "Pinch your nose and tilt your head back," she advised him, and he winced as he followed her instructions.

"Yeah, that tends to happen..." George admitted through a wince.

"Well, despite the glaring holes in the plan," she began snidely, making both boys look at her through grimaces. "It's amazing and I'm super proud of you both." They broke out into grins, practically bouncing in their happiness. She glanced back at Fred, only to find blood spilling from his nose faster than he could stop it. "Come on," she grasped his elbow, beginning to tug him towards the door. "Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey before you bleed out."

Fred muttered something back, but the moment he opened his mouth his tongue got sticky with blood, so he sealed his lips shut again with a disgusted wince.

Winona chuckled, unable not to be slightly amused by the situation. "You're kind of an idiot," she told him fondly once they were out of the portrait hole, the lingering stares of their concerned fellow Gryffindors unable to follow them.

He hummed something that was probably meant to be scornful but just sounded like a grunt. She laughed again.

"Keep your head tipped back," she ordered, and though his eyes were glaring daggers, he still did as he was told. She held tightly onto his elbow, guiding him through the mostly empty halls. It was only about a half hour until curfew, but she figured they'd get away with it if they were late.

"What in Merlin's name...?" Madame Pomfrey was startled by their sudden entry, staring up at Fred's bloody face for a split second before leaping into action. "What happened?" she demanded seriously, all but shoving him onto an empty bed and beginning to wave her wand over him in a series of complicated movements.

"Jinxed," Winona lied again. Thankfully the nurse didn't question it, tutting exasperatedly before moving over to the cupboard along the wall and fetching a vial of potion.

"This will stop the bleeding," she assured him, and he removed his hand from his face to grasp it, throwing it down his throat before he had the chance to taste it _or_ the blood covering him. "It'll take a moment," she added, and they waited a long minute in silence before finally the blood stopped flowing from his nose. She waved her wand once more and the red smears and stains vanished as though they'd never been there in the first place.

Madame Pomfrey tutted again, shuffling back over to her cabinet. "I think I know where we went wrong with the antidote," Fred whispered to her.

"Something tells me that right now isn't the best time to discuss it," she murmured back from the corner of her mouth. He nodded, looking a whole lot brighter than he had only minutes before.

They got back to the Common Room in record time, both eager to be getting to bed in preparation for the next day; the year's first Hogsmeade visit. It had approached swiftly, and before Winona knew it, she and her dorm mates were pulling on their winter jackets and gloves, talking amongst each other as they got ready for the visit.

"It's my birthday soon, y'know." Angelina never really had been one for subtlety.

"I'm aware," Winona told her with a amused smirk, adjusting the scarf she'd knotted around her neck. Angelina stared at her expectantly, and Winona knew the question she wanted to be asked. She just barely kept from rolling her eyes. "What do you want for your birthday, Angelina?" she asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.

Angelina just smiled happily, all too used to her sarcasm. "I'd love a new tub of broom polish, since you bring it up," she said, nudging Winona with her elbow. Winona laughed, nodding her head and picking up her art supply bag before heading down the stairs behind the other girls.

They found the Common Room full of people, but it was quickly emptying, people moving out the portrait hole, heading for the path that led to Hogsmeade. The twins were standing by the window chatting with Katie, who was laughing loudly at something they'd said.

Winona was about to move over to join them when she caught sight of Harry. He was sitting by himself on the couch, staring into the fire with the most miserable expression on his face that she'd ever seen.

A wave of sympathy swept through her, and she told the others she'd see them later, moving over to the couch and dropping down into the space beside Harry. The poor kid startled violently at her appearance, turning to look at her in surprise.

"Hey," she greeted him casually, crossing one leg over the other and peering across at him closely. "Happy Halloween!"

"Hey, Winnie," he replied gloomily, running a hand through his inky, untameable hair and returning his sorry eyes to the dwindling flames in the fireplace.

"You're not going to Hogsmeade, huh?" she asked, deciding not to bother beating around the bush. Her words only made him sigh heavily in answer. "Why not?"

"Didn't get my slip signed," he mumbled, propping his chin up on his fist and frowning into the flames.

"Well, as you surely know, I'm pretty handy with a pencil," she began hopefully. "I could forge your Uncle's signature."

Harry sighed again, shaking his head although grateful for the offer. "Thanks, but McGonagall already knows it isn't signed. It wouldn't work."

"What about the cloak?" she suggested, but he was already shaking his head. If he was surprised she knew about the cloak, he didn't show it.

"Dementors can see through it, I wouldn't last five minutes."

She winced before perking up, having one more solution to the problem. She knew every single secret passageway in the castle. She and the twins used the one that led to Honeydukes all the time, more often than they were meant to, that was for sure. She opened her mouth to tell him about it, only to be interrupted by the call of her name from over by the portrait hole.

She glanced up, meeting the twins' expectant gazes. "Coming," she shouted back, knowing they were impatient to get going. Then again, if Harry hadn't been allowed to go, perhaps there was a reason for it. She'd meant what she'd told Dumbledore; she didn't believe in coincidences. With a purse of her lips, she decided against telling him of the secrets passageway out of the castle. He was already a trouble magnet, no need to go making things worse. "I'll bring you something back," she offered quietly. "Anything you want."

Harry attempted a smile. "Thanks, really, but Ron and Hermione already promised to bring me back as much as they could carry. I'll be okay."

She shot him a genuine, if not slightly sympathetic, smile and nodded her head. "I'll see you later, then," she said, pushing herself to her feet.

"Have a good time," he told her rather unenthusiastically, but she didn't hold it against him. She took the opportunity to ruffle his hair as she passed, and though he grumbled in annoyance, when she glanced back she caught a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

"Took you long enough," the twins complained when she reached them, gesturing for her to duck out in front of them.

"What's up with Harry?" Fred continued as they made their way down the stairs, hopping off just before they decided to change, pulling away from the landing with a dull creak.

"Poor bloke can't go to Hogsmeade," she revealed, reaching up to make sure her Gryffindor-red beanie was in place securely on her head. "His uncle didn't sign the form."

"That's rubbish," George said snidely, their shoes slapping against the stone floor as they made their way to the entrance hall.

"I'll tell you what, he'd really benefit from a week or two with the map," she added offhandedly, becoming distracted by the windows they were passing, glancing out to see if there was any snow. It was still too early in the year, but a girl could dream.

The twins were suspiciously silent from behind her, and she glanced back to see them looking at each other, clearly communicating in their own silent way.

She waited until they were done, turning back to her with wide smiles, something decided without words. Although curious, she figured they'd tell her when they were ready. "George!" Lee's voice called from behind them, and the correct twin spun around to give their friend his full attention.

"So, where'd you wanna go first?" Fred asked her jovially once he was sure he wasn't needed, stepping forwards to loop an arm around hers, speeding up and dragging her along after him without waiting for George, knowing he would catch up in his own time.

"We have two hours to kill until we're meeting up with the others for butterbeer," she replied. "I don't care what we do as long as we make a stop at Scrivenshaft's. I've gotta pick up some new brushes. I read in a catalogue that they're selling these new deluxe ox-hair ones, and they're great for lettering, so I thought it'd make that banner I'm designing for you look extra good."

Fred blinked in surprise. "We only told you about it last night."

"I woke up early to work on it," she told him distractedly. "I've been experimenting with not only different fonts and lettering, and also colour, but that's something I think the two of you need the most input with. I'm thinking orange for sure, and I'm also really liking either periwinkle or magenta. The contrast gives off a really fun, chaotic sort of vibe…" she trailed off, glancing up at Fred, who was staring down at her with the most intense expression she'd ever seen him make.

It was a mixture between severe fondness and shocked perplexity, his blue eyes glittering in a way that made her skin tingle.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, knotting her hands together in front of herself, twisting her old ring around on her finger, the only thing she still had of either of her parents. She saw a smile playing at the edges of Fred's lips, and couldn't help the way her own copied the action almost unconsciously. "Seriously, what?" she repeated, tilting her head back so she could properly meet his eyes.

He didn't seem to know what to say, which was something wondrous in and of itself; a Weasley twin without something to say. That should have been a headline.

"Oi! What're we all standing 'round for?" Lee's voice interrupted their odd staring match. Winona was the first to look away, breaking their locked gazes and peering over at their friend, who was racing towards them eagerly. "We've got sweets to buy and butterbeer to drink!"

She looked back at Fred, only to see the strange expression gone from his face, replaced instead with bright excitement. "George and I need to stop in at Zonko's for some market research," he said casually, as though the odd moment had never even happened.

"Not to mention to stock up on Dungbombs," George added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Onward, then," Fred continued, gesturing to the door that sat only a few metres away. "To freedom."

"To freedom," they echoed solemnly, following the ginger rockets out the door and into the howling wind. She enjoyed the sting of it across her face, it was almost like it was cleansing her of any and all lingering strangeness from her moment with Fred. She sucked a deep breath in, allowed herself to smile, and followed her boys down the path.

* * *

The Halloween feast was brilliant, as it was every year. Winona filled up mostly on pumpkin pie, having four slices before deciding to move on to the soup. Alicia and Katie were telling her all about seeing Cedric Diggory in Honeydukes, and how he'd been wearing a scarf that really brought out his eyes.

Winona glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where Diggory was laughing at something his friend had said. She had to admit, he was extraordinarily fit, and she briefly fantasised about what he might look like under his robes – due to all the Quidditch practise – until she got ahold of herself, but not before she told Alicia that she was correct. He _was,_ indeed, swoon-worthy.

She had ice cream for dessert, not able to fit anything else in, and listened as the twins told anyone who would listen about the-half ogre they'd spotted in the Three Broomsticks, and how they'd charmed his drinks frozen every time he'd tried to take a sip. She laughed along with the group, forgetting for a moment that there were dementors surrounding the castle and that her premonitions were getting stronger and more frequent than ever and that the lingering mystery of Sirius Black clung onto her like a parasite, sucking away at her sanity.

The calm only lasted until they got up to Gryffindor Tower. They came to an abrupt stop on the staircase, a backup of students making it impossible to get through to the portrait hole.

"What's going on?!" George yelled over the ruckus the group was making. Nobody answered him.

Winona stood on her tiptoes to try and see past the gathered crowd, but it was for naught, as she still couldn't see a single thing. A hand roughly shoved her out of the way, and she overbalanced, falling into Lee with a strangled yelp.

"Coming through!" Percy's haughty voice shouted. Her friend helped right her and she frowned after the Head Boy in irritation.

"Watch it, Bighead Boy!" Fred yelled after him angrily, but his older brother paid him no mind.

Winona turned to tell him it was fine, only for an abrupt hush to fall over the students before she got a chance. She hesitated, glancing around, hoping to find a clue about what the hell was going on.

"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick," Percy instructed sharply, voice echoing through the now-silent hall.

No sooner had he spoken the words had the Headmaster appeared, as though the words themselves had conjured him. He gently pushed through the backed up sea of Gryffindor students. "What is it?" Winona whispered to Fred and George under her breath, the only of their friends tall enough to see over everyone else.

"The Fat Lady," George told her just as quietly. "She's gone."

The corridor broke out in frantic whispers, but Winona was confused. What did he _mean_ the Fat Lady was gone? She leaned around a tall fourth year just as the crowd parted and got a glimpse of the familiar portrait, only it looked nothing like she had thought it would.

The painting was slashed to pieces, bits of canvas littering the ground, chunks of it missing from sight. Winona felt ill. She reached up to press a hand against her stomach, as though that might somehow help the nausea curdling in her gut.

McGonagall, Lupin and Snape had arrived, and idly Winona had to wonder how word travelled so fast amongst the teachers of the school. The Professors were talking to each other now, but Winona couldn't hear what they were saying over the inane chatter, gossiping chatter of the gathered students.

"You'll be lucky!" an irritating voice abruptly cackled from high above them. Winona glanced up to see Peeves grinning down at them wolfishly, or as much as he could, with his twisted little face.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" the Headmaster asked calmly, never one to rise to the bait.

Peeves hesitated, never one to give Dumbledore _too _much cheek. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," the Poltergeist cackled again, revelling in the mayhem.

"Did she say who did it?"

"Oh yes, Professor-head," he responded gleefully, looking very much ready to burst into song. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Winona felt a swooping in her gut, the type she felt when something important was about to happen, something that didn't make sense at the time, but would so later. It was a lot like her drawings in that respect. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Horror hit the students like a wave, frightened yelps and suspicious chatter echoing through the corridor at once. Professor Dumbledore was quick to jump in before anybody could panic too much. "Calm down, calm down!" he called coolly, arms raised as though he were performing magic. The sea of kids fell instantly quiet. "Everyone is to go directly to the Great Hall," he ordered smoothly, not looking even rattled by the bombshell dropped by Peeves. "You will wait there for further instructions."

He didn't tell them they were safe, which made Winona feel especially _unsafe_, but she said nothing, instead simply looping her arm through George's so she wouldn't get swept up in the crowd and following the surging current down towards the Great Hall.

"Blimey," Fred was murmuring to their group. "Sirius Black?"

"Why would he come to Hogwarts?" Alicia asked from behind them.

"More importantly," Angelina answered anyway, glancing between them all, "what could he possibly want in Gryffindor Tower?"

The twins and Winona knew the answer to her question, but they couldn't tell anyone that. Following the crowd of terrified students, Winona did her best to spot Harry in the throng, but he was lost in the current. Her heart raced in her chest, but she knew he was okay – for now at least.

The real question was: how had Black even gotten into the castle in the first place?

The Headmaster left Percy and Penelope – the Head Boy and Girl – in charge, much to Percy's pleasure, waving his wand and conjuring hundreds and hundreds of squishy purple sleeping bags. They covered the entire Great Hall, and Winona was quick to find a group of them against the wall where she could lean against it, able to keep her eyes (and her wand) in front of her.

It made her feel kind of paranoid, but then again, in light of everything else, maybe she was.

"Calm down, Win," George murmured as the rest of their group situated themselves around the space, dragging the sleeping bags closer together so they could talk without being overheard.

"It'll be okay," Fred assured her, wriggling into his bag before shuffling it over towards hers.

Winona was quiet for a long minute, considering her next words carefully. "How is this possible? How did he get inside the castle?" she finally spoke, pulling the material of her own bag closer to her chest, snuggling into it like she sometimes did with her pillow when she felt scared or lonely.

Fred looked past her at George, but she didn't move her eyes from his face. After a moment she heard George begin to chatter with Lee and Alicia, keeping their voices low so they wouldn't attract Percy's attention. Fred turned his full attention to her, but she didn't like the weight of his eyes on hers, so she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, feeling herself relax when she was met with the sight of a million shining stars.

"Black's not gonna get to you, Win," Fred eventually whispered, and she finally felt his eyes move from her face, joining hers on the charmed sky above.

"I'm not worried about me," she whispered back, gathering the material of her sleeping bag in her fists.

"Harry will be fine, too," he told her.

She pursed her lips, gaze following a shooting star as it danced across the ceiling, hugging the folds of her sleeping bag just that little bit tighter, as though it might miraculously hug her back.

This threat suddenly felt incredibly real and present. Before now it had been this abstract thing; a murderer on the loose looking for Harry. But now he was here, at their school in a remote corner of Scotland, and Winona had never felt less safe. Who knew what lengths Black would go to to achieve his ends? Where would he draw the line? Did he care who got hurt in the process?

As she thought this, she felt that familiar twist in her stomach that told her something was wrong. She had the strangest feeling that there was more to the situation than what met the eye, but she had no idea what to do with that information. It wasn't anything more than a feeling in her gut, an indistinct whispering in the back of her head that told her to dig deeper, to _feel_ rather than _see._

She resolved to sit down with her sketchbook the next day and actually focus for once. It was scary, forcing herself into a vision. She hated it; it felt like she was falling from a cliff through time itself. Trelawney had told her there was no need to be afraid, and that fear would only inhibit her 'sight', but she couldn't help how she felt. Sometimes she was afraid the current would carry her away and she'd be lost to the whim of time, gone from the present forever.

But if it helped Harry – hell, if it helped _anyone –_ she would do it.

"If he can get all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, what _can't_ he do?" she asked Fred after the candles had all gone out, plunging them into darkness but making the charmed ceiling only that much more brilliant.

Fred didn't say anything, but she could feel him watching her again, the weight of his eyes unmistakeable.

"I wish I knew what he has to do with me," she whispered, tracing her eyes over the galaxies in the ceiling above – like stars in a bottle. "Sometimes I think that if I figured that out, I might be able to deal with it. I might be able to fight _against_ it. I might be able to survive it."

"Whoever Black is, whatever he wants," Fred told her in a barely-there whisper, "you're not dealing with it alone."

His words brought a smile out of Winona despite it all, and she turned her head to aim her smile at him in the dark. The low light of the starry sky above cast an ethereal glow upon her best friend's face. His blue eyes seemed to almost shine, and when he smiled back at her it was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

"Thanks," she whispered warmly.

"Get to sleep, you two," Percy's nasally voice ordered them before Fred could reply, glowing wand pointed not-so-threateningly in their direction.

Neither of the pair responded, too washed out from the night's events to bother. Winona slid down, laying her head back against the thin pillow they'd supplied and staring up at the sky. Her mind slowly cleared itself as she gazed up into the stars that she pretended, just for the moment, were real.

After a long few minutes her hands finally detached their vice-like grip from the sleeping bag and moved steadily to her sides. She sighed again, blinking warily up at the galaxies spinning above her head.

As she began to slip into unconsciousness, she vaguely felt a finger curl around her pinky. It was on her right, where she knew Fred lay, and a sudden feeling of warm _safety_ wrapped around her like an embrace.

She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for your support the last few chapters. Hearing that some of you have binged this story in your free time like I myself do so often on this sight fills me with so much happiness. I'm thrilled you're liking the story so far, and those of you who have said kind things about my writing, I thank you. You guys are the best, and I love you all.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you again soon!**


	22. Every now and again

**A/N: Hey guys – I know, I'm updating _already_?! I write in advance and I'm so many chapters ahead that I thought I'd give you a treat and go ahead and upload this one now. Also, check out the author's note at the bottom, it's got some info about something that my fellow authors might be interested in. **

* * *

The school was suddenly abuzz with nothing but talk of Sirius Black, and the theories on how he had gotten into the castle were growing more and more ridiculous with every passing day.

Winona spent a lot of time sitting alone up in the Astronomy Tower, huddled up in her warmest clothes and staring pointlessly at a blank piece of parchment, trying to force a vision about Black to appear. None ever came.

Dumbledore called her into his office twice, but both times she could do no more than tell him she had nothing to report except a sketch of some kind of fuzzy little animal and a drawing of McGonagall in her Animagus form; neither of which seemed to hold any significance whatsoever.

Professor Lupin was acting strangely, which was alarming to say the least. The last professor to give her weird vibes had ended up having Voldemort on the back of his head, so her hopes weren't very high. But to her relief, he wasn't muttering to himself or wearing any strange clothing – he was just staring at her.

It was only when he thought she wasn't looking, but her abilities gave her a kind of radar; made it easy to feel eyes on the back of her head. Professor Lupin treated her no differently to any of the other students in the class, but there was just _something_ about the way he looked at her. She couldn't put her finger on it, and it was beginning to freak her out.

Minor concerns aside, the first Quidditch match of the year was upon them almost without warning, and as Winona stood at the window in the Common Room and stared out at the howling wind and torrential rain, she felt a ball of dread and despair wind together in her stomach.

"Why the long face?" Lee asked, appearing at her side as he knotted a Gryffindor scarf around his neck.

"I just wish they weren't playing in these conditions," she mumbled, keeping her eyes on the weather.

He snorted like she'd made a joke. "As if Quidditch would ever be cancelled over a little rain."

There was a deafening clap of thunder. A second year squeaked and tripped on the bottom of the staircase. Winona shot Lee a narrow-eyed look, but he waved her away with irritating ease.

"Come on," he said, glancing pointedly at his wrist where she knew no watch sat, "we're late for breakfast."

She rolled her eyes turned to follow him anyway, meeting up with Hope at the portrait hole, the three of them hurrying down towards the Hall. They were just heading through the towering doors when the team, already clad in their scarlet robes, all bustled from the room, some still chewing on the last of their breakfast.

Acting on instinct, Winona caught the twins by the elbows, pulling them to an abrupt stop. "Win?" they asked in confusion, pausing as the rest of the team hurried down towards the pitch.

"Be careful," she warned them, hoping to convey the seriousness she felt in her chest like an anvil pressing on her heart. "Promise me."

They shot each other an assessing look before raising their hands to the foreheads in playful salutes. "You have our word," they assured her cheerfully. Then Fred leant towards her, tapping his cheek impatiently.

Winona rolled her eyes, but even despite the gurgling unease in her belly, she hopped up onto her toes and smacked her lips to his cheek, as per tradition. Holding George's shoulder for balance, she did the same for him.

"There," she said, a tiny bit grumpy.

"Well, now nothing bad can happen to us for sure," Fred told her with a cheesy beam. "But we really do need to get going, Win, or Wood'll skin us alive."

The last thing she wanted to do was release them, but she knew she didn't have a choice, and reluctantly relaxed the vice-like grip she had on their arms. They grinned, winking once more before scurrying off down the hall after the team. "And look after the others too!" she shouted at their retreating figures. "_Especially Harry_!"

"They'll be fine," Lee rolled his eyes at her in exasperation, growing impatient, but Hope was more supportive, shooting her what was surely meant to be a comforting smile. "Besides, it's only an inter-house Quidditch match," Lee said offhandedly. "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

Winona wanted to sternly remind him about all the injuries of the past, including Harry losing all the bones in his arm and Wood being unconscious for a full week after taking a bludger to the head, but she bit her tongue, swallowing her words and turning to her toast, beginning to layer it with jam.

She hated how pessimistic she'd become. That wasn't a natural part of her personality. She was usually much more happy-go-lucky, content to roll with the punches and see where life took her. It was a recent development, the cynical, melancholy outlook she'd had as of late.

She blamed it completely on the visions. She was seeing flashes of crimson blood and hearing snapshots of tortured screams, she was seeing people dead and beautiful things withering away in front of her eyes. And all she could do was sit back and wait for it all to happen.

The Pitch was packed with people, all of them huddled under large umbrellas and shivering with every gust of bone-chilling wind. The match was almost impossible to see, Winona had to squint in an effort to keep water from her eyes, but even that was no good. The rain was coming at them from the side, blowing into their faces no matter what.

The match seemed to never end, and at the rate they were going, Winona wouldn't have been shocked if it had continued on into the night. Despite the mind-numbing cold, the Gryffindors were cheering at the top of their lungs, screaming encouragement at their team in an effort to be heard over the howling wind.

A vibe stabbed at Winona like an icicle, piercing through her stomach like a weapon. Something was about to go terribly wrong. Her wincing eyes scanned the pitch as best they could, sweeping over each player, trying to figure out what was going to happen.

It wasn't until her gaze settled on the smallest figure in scarlet robes beginning to climb higher into the sky after a little golden ball, that she knew.

Harry was in danger. Why was it always _Harry_ in danger?

She turned, unceremoniously shoving her way through the wall of shivering, soaking wet students. She didn't know what to do, she felt like she was in a state of panic; she couldn't breathe. So she did what she always did when she didn't know what to do; she went to Dumbledore.

The stairs were steep and slippery, but she raced up them as quickly as she possibly could, bursting out onto the faculty stand with a warning scream. "Dumbledore!" she shouted over the wind, and through her squinting eyes she made out Dumbledore's large, purple draped figure turning to see her. "Harry!" she shrieked, pointing into the sky. "_Harry_!"

Her vision was blurry and the howl wind was the only sound in her ears. But the Headmaster didn't seem confused. He turned away from her, his attention on the field, arm reaching out as he spoke words over a rapidly plummeting Harry.

Things happened quickly after that. The match ended, Hufflepuff winning without any cheers from the worried crowd. Dumbledore used a beautiful piece of magic to get rid of the dementors, and the weight on Winona's chest was gone – although she knew she could still do with a healthy dose of chocolate. Harry was rushed to the Hospital Wing, most of the team and Hermione and Ron following close behind.

She needed to talk to Fred and George, she thought vaguely, taking a step in their direction. "If you wouldn't mind, Miss Andrews," Dumbledore spoke from behind her, his croaky voice loud so as to be heard over the whistling wind, "I think you should join me in my office."

She gaped at him. "But, sir, Harry-"

"Is in the perfectly capable hands of Madam Pomfrey," he interjected. And while his words were spoken like a request, she knew full well they were an order.

Winona sighed, shivering so hard it was beginning to hurt, and followed after the Headmaster like an obedient little pet. She was more than relieved to be standing in his office only five minutes later, inches away from his roaring fire as he prepared tea for them the Muggle way.

"P-professor," she stammered. The old wizard hummed in acknowledgement before flicking his wand in her direction like one might shoo a fly. The water evaporated from her body, hair and clothes like she'd never even been in a storm in the first place. It didn't help her lowered temperature, but it sure was nice not to be dripping wet anymore, so she contented herself with warming up by the fire.

"Just as you like it, I believe," the Headmaster murmured through a kind but tight smile, beckoning her away from the flames and over to his desk. He took a seat in his chair, his fingers steepled together in front of him. Winona gingerly took a seat in the chair opposite him, reaching forwards to take a deep sip of her blissfully hot tea. "I do believe the beginning is always a good place to start," his words were an echo of those he'd said the first time she'd been in his office, nearly five years before.

It wasn't as comforting as he'd probably intended it to be.

"I don't know how I did it," she blurted honestly, not knowing what else to say.

"You didn't draw this happening?"

She was quick to shake her head. "No, sir," she responded emphatically. "I had an uneasy feeling all morning, then at the pitch it only got worse. I tried to do what you and Professor Trelawney said, focus and hone in on the feeling. I can't explain it, but I _knew _Harry was the one in danger. I just _knew_."

Dumbledore stared back at her evenly, and she wondered what he could possibly be thinking.

"Why is this happening to me, sir?" she asked once the silence had stretched on too long, unable to handle the crushing emptiness in the room; it felt suffocating.

Something flashed in his twinkling blue eyes, and for a horrifying moment she recognised it as pity. Then it was erased, gone as though it had never been there at all. "I think you should double your sessions with Professor Trelawney," he said suddenly, voice calm and steady.

She was too caught up in her own tornado of thoughts to take in what he was saying. Was this ability somehow penance for something she'd done? What did she do to deserve living with knowledge that nobody should _ever_ have? She didn't _want_ to know the future. She didn't _want_ to have this responsibility. She just wanted to be normal.

"This isn't a punishment, Miss Andrews," Dumbledore spoke after a long, agonising beat, as if reading her thoughts. "This is a gift."

She stared back incredulously, disbelief sketched across her face. "It doesn't _feel _like a gift," she muttered, nails biting into her palms, tea hot through the barrier of the Headmaster's china.

"You probably saved Harry's life today," he told her, and she though she was loathe to admit it, he had a point. "And I have a feeling you're going to be saving a _lot _of lives in the coming years, Winona."

Her eyes burned, but she was never one to cry, so she bit harshly at the inner lining of her cheek and forced the tears back, instead focusing on the pain and waiting until the overwhelming emotion was gone.

"Drink up," he encouraged her quietly, a serene expression on his lined features. "Get warm again, calm yourself down, and then you can go visit Mr Potter in the Hospital Wing."

"Is he okay?" she asked hastily. But then how would he know? He'd been with _her_ the whole time, so he couldn't possibly know anything more than she did.

But, as always, Dumbledore surprised her. "He's perfectly fine, I assure you. Now, why don't you tell me how your classes are going while you warm up?"

He did that sometimes, asked her about the things going on in her life. She thought he asked them to make it seem like he talked to her for more reasons than for glimpses into the future. The questions were becoming few and far between as the years passed by, and she wasn't so sure she appreciated it like she used to. Now it just felt like a facade, like a script she had to follow.

She was still shaking, her teeth clattering together noisily. She sipped at her tea, suddenly wishing for something stronger, but not feeling daring enough to make such a request of the Headmaster. She would play pretend for a few minutes, then once she felt strong enough, she would plow ahead with life, starting with checking on Harry in the infirmary.

But before she could even finish her tea, her halfhearted monologue about her Arithmancy essay was interrupted by a brisk knocking at the door. Dumbledore called for them to enter, and Winona was surprised to see Lupin shuffle into the room, looking awkward and out of place.

His kind eyes went wide when he saw her hunched in the chair opposite Dumbledore. Something told her she was the last person he'd expected to find having tea with the Headmaster. Which made sense; she didn't look particularly important. And if she had it her way, that's what everybody would continue to believe.

"My apologies, Headmaster," said Lupin, but his eyes were fixed on her. "I didn't realise you had company."

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. "Winona and I have been known to indulge in some tea and cake, every now and again," he said simply.

Lupin only looked a million times more confused by the response, but he seemed to know better than to dig for answers the Headmaster wasn't willing to freely give. "I can come back," he offered.

"No, no," Winona interjected, setting her empty teacup to the side and climbing to her feet. "I was just leaving. I wanted to go check Harry in the hospital wing, anyway."

An expression twisted at Lupin's scarred face, and Winona recognised it as curiosity. "You're close with Harry?" he asked casually. But somehow the question seemed anything but innocuous.

Winona's brow pinched as she considered her reply. "Well, we're both Gryffindors," she finally said, evasive at best.

"Nonsense, Winona," said Dumbledore, and Winona turned back to him with a single eyebrow raised. "From what you've told me, you and young Mr Potter are quite good friends."

Sighing silently to herself, Winona looked back at Lupin. "He's a really great kid, and I think sometimes the rest of the school can make him feel kind of alienated," she explained, feeling strangely like she had to. "We both lost our parents back in the first war, so I guess it helped us bond."

Lupin suddenly looked rather pale. "Right," he said, voice distant, like his mind were miles away. Or perhaps years.

"You'd best run along, Winona," said the Headmaster, and Winona turned back to him. She felt out of her depth, like there were something hovering in the room, invisible only to her eye. It was as maddening as it was suspicious. "I'm sure a visit from you will lift Harry's spirits."

It was a dismissal if Winona had ever heard one. She sent Lupin a final deep, searching stare, but the guy was like a terrified vault, staring back at her with nothing but mysterious tension. She knew she wasn't going to get anything out of him now – if ever.

"Until next time, Professor," she told Dumbledore, nodding amicably at Lupin and reluctantly heading for the exit. Once the oak doors were shut behind her, Winona hesitated a moment, but there was only silence on the other side of the doors, meaning either Dumbledore had cast a Silencing Spell, or they simply knew she was attempting to eavesdrop.

Huffing with irritation, Winona put it from her mind and trotted her way down the stairs and onwards to the Hospital Wing where Harry waited.

Harry was staring across the room gloomily when she walked in. Winona looked him over carefully, taking in the depressed look on his face before scanning for physical injuries. He seemed okay, and she was relieved to see he didn't appear to be in any pain.

She tugged the sleeves of her golden sweater down over her hands, pulling at a loose thread before sighing and forcing herself over to the kid's bedside, taking note of the splintered remains of his broomstick with a wince.

"Hey Boy-Wonder," she gave her customary greeting, but it didn't bring so much as a flicker to his forlorn face. She hooked her foot around the leg of a chair and dragged it closer to her before collapsing into it and kicking her legs up on the end of the bed, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Madam Pomfrey wasn't around to shriek at her for it.

She got the feeling Harry had had a lot of visitors, and he was probably worn out from all the fussing. She'd caught sight of Ron and Hermione heading for the common room on her way there, probably off to fetch supplies as they prepared to camp beside their best friend's bed until they were forced out the door.

There was a small pile of Chocolate Frogs at the end of the bed, and she recognised a_ Fred and George _haul when she saw one. She reached out, grasping one in her hand and glancing quickly at Harry, who nodded ever so slightly, gaze flickering between the remains of his broom and the far wall.

She began to nibble on the chocolate, unable to help glancing at him from the corner of her eye. A sense of guilt ate at her insides. It was all her fault. If only she'd acted sooner, then Harry wouldn't be stuck in the Hospital Wing and Gryffindor probably would have won the match.

In a move identical to that of Dumbledore's only an hour before, Harry seemed to read her thoughts. "It wasn't your fault, you know," he spoke matter-of-factly, finally pulling his tired eyes from the wall, unleashing the full puppy-dog power of his emerald green eyes onto her, the gems only magnified by his glasses.

Winona grumbled her disagreement, mouth sticky with melted chocolate.

"It wasn't, Winnie," he insisted. She swallowed what was left of her stolen treat, crossing one ankle over the other and peering at him in the glow of the candles lighting the room. The sky was dark outside, and it was only a matter of minutes until dinnertime. She figured she had until then before Pomfrey kicked her out.

"I should have seen it," she mumbled. It didn't escape her notice that the conversation was identical to the one they'd had after Lockhart had vanished the bones in Harry's arm the year before. She vaguely wondered if they'd have to go through it every time something like this happened. "I should have _known_."

"You can't know _everything_," he argued gently. "Besides, I'm barely even hurt."

"But your broomstick..." she trailed off, casting a guilty look to the splinters of his once beautiful broom. A flicker of pain crossed over his face, but he cleared it, probably not wanting her to feel worse about herself. He was a good kid.

"You've helped me before, Winnie," he told her seriously. "And you'll help me again. I know you will. But you don't have to protect me from everything. It isn't your job."

He had a quizzical look on his face, like he couldn't figure out why she bothered to even worry about him in the first place. She smiled. Harry really didn't realise how special he was, and he certainly didn't realise the weight of the destiny he had resting upon his scrawny shoulders. Even Winona wasn't quite sure what it was; all she knew was that keeping Harry Potter safe was of the utmost importance. And not only because of his significance in the coming years – but because he was a good, kind boy who deserved to have someone looking out for him.

"Still," she said resolutely, the melancholy melting from her face. "I'll try harder next time."

They lapsed back into silence, Harry not knowing what else to say and Winona just glad he wasn't trying to make excuses for her anymore.

Things returned to normal over the course of the next week. Nobody could pull Winona out of her funk like the Weasley twins, and they had her laughing and plotting along with them in no time. Harry was finally released from the Hospital Wing, returning to classes only to be stuck trying to ignore the mocking sneers from the Slytherins.

Winona noticed that Professor Lupin seemed more haggard than usual, but she was relieved to see him teaching at all, considering their last Defence lesson had been plagued by Snape, who seemed to be intent on going over werewolf theorem even though they'd tried to explain they'd already covered lycanthropy two years before.

Lupin was back to treating her no differently at all, making her wonder if she'd maybe dreamt up the whole encounter in Dumbledore's office. He was kind to her, but only as much as he was to everyone else. It was a relief; one less thing for her to worry about, she supposed.

Before she knew what was happening, Alicia and Angelina were beginning to gush about their holiday plans, eagerly talking about the parties their families hosted or were invited to. Winona's only plan was to eat a lot of pie and maybe use her free time and space to paint something on a proper canvas for once.

"What about you, Win?" one of the twins was asking her, and she realised with a start where she was, perched at the table in the Great Hall during dinner, the night before the final Hogsmeade visit of the year. "Staying again?"

She glanced over at George, only to find both the twins, Lee and Alicia staring at her expectantly. "Yeah, no difference this year," she shrugged simply. "What about you two?"

"We're going-"

Fred seemed to have an abrupt muscle spasm, his elbow slamming into his brother's gut, causing George to cut himself off with a strained grunt. "We're staying too," Fred spoke over his twin's sounds of pain and confusion.

Winona narrowed her eyes suspiciously, trying and failing to see what she was missing. "Um, are you sure?" she asked tentatively, glancing between the twins. "Because you don't seem sure." Fred spun around to glare at George, and once again they spent a long moment communicating before they turned to look at her with calm but happy expressions.

"Yeah, we're definitely staying," Fred told her, George nodding along eagerly, like no peculiar exchange had ever occurred.

"Winnie!" Angelina called from a few spots down.

With a reluctant hum Winona turned away from the suspicious pair and focused her attention on her dorm mate, who was animatedly retelling a story to a group of second years, needing her input for the name of the funny looking guy they'd met with the eye patch that time in the Three Broomsticks.

Winona forgot all about the strange behaviour, getting swept up in the nighttime festivities. She was so distracted by Alicia that she didn't realise the twins were trying to get her attention until they were all up in the common room that night before bed.

Though this was mainly because Fred climbed onto a table, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Winona!" at the top of his lungs. Children from lower years startled at the shocking display of behaviour, but Winona just rolled her eyes and left the conversation she was part of, knowing there'd be hell to pay if she didn't give the twins the attention they so desired.

"Yes?" she asked coyly, crossing her arms over her red, woollen jumper.

"We're calling a meeting-"

"So if you could all follow us-"

"That would be marvellous-"

Winona paused, glancing over her shoulder confusedly, scanning the immediate area. "I'm the only one here," she pointed out, blinking at them, stood impatiently by the portrait hole.

"Come along, then," Fred rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, Andrews, time is money," George added, pushing her none-too-gently through the hole, sending her stumbling out into the corridor. Sir Cadogan called out to them as they hurried down the hall, challenging them to some kind of duel, but none of them paid him any mind.

"What's this about?" Winona asked once they were halfway down to the kitchens, where she assumed they were going, from experience.

"Since when do you need an explanation?" Fred countered, and she had to admit he had a point there.

She glanced over at George, taking in the familiar piece of parchment in his hands. "Why're we using the Map?" she asked curiously, not having even seen the thing for weeks. They hardly ever used it any more. They knew every single nook and cranny of the school, not to mention they'd long since memorised the teachers' patrol schedules.

"One last boo-ray, as the Muggles would say," George responded, head stuffed into the map, its secrets lit up by the tip of his wand.

"What?" she questioned, more confused than ever by the butchered phrase.

"Wait a moment," Fred shook his head, finally coming to a stop and reaching up to tickle the pear that would grant entry to the kitchens. It giggled childishly and a moment later the portrait swung open, revealing the quiet kitchens. Now that the dinner rush was over, the elves had settled in for the night, getting rest to awaken at first light to begin breakfast.

A handful of elves were still visible, all wiping down benches until they noticed the trio, scurrying over to them with wide, eager eyes. Fred waved them off politely, telling them they only needed to sit by the fire to talk, though a particularly giddy looking elf insisted on bringing them some hot chocolate. They waited until the chipper little thing had scurried off, leaving them alone at one of the small tables by the large, roaring flames, clutching their goblets of steaming chocolate.

"We've decided something," George began bracingly once they'd all taken a sip. Panic flooded Winona, her mind flying instantly to the worst possible ways the conversation could end.

"Calm your hippogriffs," Fred quickly interjected, taking in the note of terror glinting in her stormy gaze, "it isn't life altering." She sighed, reaching up to rub at her forehead tiredly, wishing she wasn't so on edge all the time. Her visions had her thinking there was bad news hiding around every corner.

"What've you decided, then?" she asked, reigning in her apprehension.

They exchanged a look that Winona was incredibly used to, finally looking at her and declaring, in one voice, "we've decided to give the Map to Harry."

She let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Oh, is _that _all?" she asked exasperatedly, suddenly feeling slightly silly for imagining it was something bad.

The twins looked affronted. "This is a monumental moment for us here," George told her indignantly, for a brief flash reminding her of Percy in the way he tilted his nose up into the air. She chuckled, giving in and rolling her eyes. "Why aren't you distraught?"

"Harry needs the Map more than we do," she told him easily. "He gets into more trouble than the two of you combined." She hesitated, reconsidering her hasty statement. "Okay, maybe not quiteas much _trouble_, but _certainly _more life-or-death situations."

At that they had to agree.

"What made you decide, all of a sudden?" she asked curiously, picking up her goblet to sip at her cooling drink.

They shrugged as one, reaching up to adjust their hair in the same moment. "Something you said a few weeks back got us thinking," Fred told her honestly, resting his forearms against the table and leaning closer, as though there was somebody to be worried about eavesdropping. "His needs really are greater than ours."

"And we _do _have it memorised-"

"Besides, we think it's time to step up our game-"

"Y'know, really challenge ourselves-"

"See what we're capable of-"

"Without having a safety charm to fall back on."

Winona grinned, relaxing as she listened to their familiar voices layer over one another, sitting back in her chair and grinning.

"Sounds exciting," she told them eagerly, already beginning to fill with the urge to do something stupid and daring and, obviously, completely hilarious. "Where do we start?"

The pair launched into their Next Big Plan, hands flying as they animatedly explained the mechanics behind the crazy-sounding creation they were in the early stages of developing. She liked the idea of the magic they were suggesting, but she was stumped by the theory behind it.

The twins seemed to have no problems keeping up with one another, excitedly talking over each other with notes on which charms they could interweave and the theorem behind the magic they would be using.

Nobody would know it, but the twins were always good at making her feel out of her depth in this amazing world. She didn't hold it against them, if anything she blamed herself for not being smart enough to keep up with them. But no matter how much she wished to know more, she couldn't find it within herself to put any more of herself into it than she already was. Her art came first. Besides, who needed OWLs and NEWTs when all she ever wanted to do with her life was paint? She didn't need a degree to be an artist – at least, not in the Wizarding world.

She didn't even think they _had_ schools of creative arts in their world. She supposed that was something to talk with McGonagall about when they had their career meeting later in the year.

"What do you think, Win?"

Winona looked up suddenly, realising she'd been lost in thought, unknowingly having tuned out the twins. "Hm?" she hummed guiltily, glad when neither of them looked annoyed by her wandering attention. She supposed that was something _they_ had gotten used to, being friends with her. She tended to do that a lot, although not as much when she didn't have a sketchbook clutched in her hands.

"About charming the Slytherin's quills to only write in profanities," Fred told her patiently. She couldn't help the delighted giggle that left her lips, head tipping back as she laughed.

"That sounds like your best prank yet," she replied happily, already picturing the confused and outraged expressions on the Slytherins' rude, permanently-sneering faces.

Fred grinned at her brightly, like he'd come up with the idea for no reason other than to make her laugh. She was taken aback by the expression, but one of the house elves murmured something and distracted her, and by the time they left the kitchens, arms full of pie, she'd forgotten all about it and the way it had warmed her chest like fire.

The next day was the Hogsmeade visit, and Winona was more than eager to get out of the castle and out into the snow. As she stepped into the frosty winter air, she paused, taking an appreciative breath before realising she was being left behind and hurried after Angelina, Katie and Hope, who were all chattering excitedly about the Weird Sisters' new song and whether they would be selling vinyls at _Dominic Maestro's_ yet or not.

"What about you, Winona?" Angelina asked curiously, finally pulling away from their chatter to include her in the conversation. "What're you planning to do in town?"

"Same as everyone else," she shrugged. "Christmas shopping."

"Oh! That reminds me, I promised my brother I'd buy him more of _Drooble's Best Blowing Gum_!" Hope exclaimed. "Honestly, all the kid ever eats are sweets."

They made their way down the path, finally entering the Wizarding village, foregoing staying together and instead deciding to split up to get what they needed to get done, making plans to meet for butterbeer in an hour.

Winona loved spending time with her other friends, especially the girls. Sometimes it felt like the only people she talked to were the twins. It was nice, however, to get some time to herself. If it wasn't the girls, then it was the twins occupying her attention, and if not them, it was Dumbledore or Trelawney, and if not them, then Lee or someone else with good intentions – but it only served to exhaust her.

She was beaming as she wandered the village, breathing in the frosty air and all but skipping through the snow, her paint stained bag bumping against her hip with every step.

She wandered into Honeydukes first, intent on buying a large supply of Sugar Quills, enough to last her the holidays, at least. She bought a few other bits and pieces for her friends in there, particularly Lee, then moved on to the rest of her shopping.

She wanted to get gifts for Harry and his friends – and even though she knew it wouldn't be expected, it felt like the right thing to do. So she got a book for Hermione, some broom polish for Ron and a pair of warm, winter gloves for Harry.

For the twins, she'd already gotten things over the summer and stored them in her trunk. She usually did it this way, as she always found more things they'd like in the Muggle world, rather than at Hogsmeade.

She'd just finished the bulk of her shopping and was stepping from an overflowing store when the bustling street of Hogsmeade completely disappeared, replaced by flickering images of red and grey.

Forcing herself out of an episode was a lot like trying to lift an anvil with her bare hands. Almost impossible, but then again, she'd had a lot of practise. It was difficult, but she managed to snap out of it, re-materialising in the snowy street. She knew the clarity wouldn't last long, and she had moments before she went under again. So she did the only thing she possibly could; she ran.

She burst through the doors of the first empty-looking store she saw. Her sight began to blur, so she couldn't see what it was called, but as she tripped inside she found herself surrounded by books and realised it was most likely _Tomes and Scrolls_, but she didn't have time to so much as cringe, catapulting herself into the deepest, darkest corner she could find and ripping her sketchbook from her bag just in time for everything to fade away again.

She couldn't feel anything, almost like she was in a dream. It was a (lack of) sensation that had become achingly familiar over her years at Hogwarts, and all she could do was try to relax and observe the images flickering across her vision at impossibly fast speeds.

The images were darker than usual, only shades of black and grey, along with the odd glowing white. Then there was the red, so sickening and intense it made her non-existent body shiver. She couldn't make sense of them, she rarely _ever_ could. A sense of dread settled like a weight in her stomach, and she felt her throat ache like someone was screaming, even though she knew it wasn't her.

Finally, after either a minute or an hour, she came out of the episode, dropping abruptly back into the present with a shock, gasping for breath and blinking as her vision began to slowly come back to her.

She was in the bookstore, somebody in a grey sweater and green scarf was standing over her, staring down at her through narrowed, suspicious hazel eyes. The person was saying something, but the sound was muffled. She shook her head like she was trying to clear water from her ears. Despite not being waterlogged, it worked, and a moment later she could hear with perfect clarity.

"-look like you're about to throw up," the guy was saying, his voice oddly familiar.

She paid him no attention, reaching up to press a hand against her aching temple. "You'd better step back," she warned through a mumble. "I just might."

He didn't move, hand lingering on her shoulder. Wait, who was it again?

She glanced back up, blinking at the stranger, only to find he wasn't a stranger at all. "Nott?" she asked dubiously, pushing herself to stand, only to feel like the Earth had been ripped out from under her, sending her crashing back to the cold, wooden floor of the store.

"Whoa," the Slytherin murmured bracingly, other hand reaching out to steady her other shoulder. Why was he touching her? "Do I need to floo a healer or something?"

She didn't bother answering, her attention suddenly ripped from the strange conversation as she realised she hadn't seen the sketch. Her grey eyes flicked down to the page, taking in the charcoal lines staining the paper.

It was a graveyard, that much was certain. It was unfamiliar to her, all she knew was that there was a person held unwillingly against a statue while a pudgy man stood beside a bubbling cauldron, the mere image of it making her want to hurl.

"Seriously, you're pale and your eyes are all bloodshot," the oldest Nott brother noted with a frown.

"No shit, Sherlock," she muttered sarcastically, quickly slamming the sketchbook shut with more force than strictly necessary, hoping the Slytherin didn't see the prediction inked onto the page.

"What?" Nott replied cluelessly, oblivious to the Muggle reference, though a glint in his eyes made her suspicious that he hadn't missed her hasty action. "Listen, you look like you're going to pass out," he told her, but as she tried to roll her eyes a wave of sickening nausea hit her, and she had to swallow back a mouthful of bile.

It must have been an important vision, because she'd never felt more horrible after an episode before.

She was incredibly shaky as she struggled to get to her feet. Nott reached out to help her, and though she needed the help, her pride wouldn't let her, shaking him off and bracing herself on the wall. "I can take it from here," she told him snidely.

"The thing is that Mr Windemere here saw you spilling charcoal on his floor, and when you didn't respond, plucked me from the crowd to take you back up to see Madame Pomfrey," the Slytherin told her, still watching her through careful eyes, like he expected her to keel over at any moment.

"Is that so?" she asked, narrowing her eyes over his shoulder to see the owner of the store glaring at her pointedly.

"Are you going to clean that up?" he asked in a crackling, rasping voice, pointing at the mess she'd made with a sneer.

Winona snapped back, worn out from the episode. "You've got a wand."

As soon as the words left her lips she sucked in a disbelieving breath, black stained hands lifting to press against her mouth as though trying to shove the words back through her lips. The old man's glare only deepened.

"Sorry, sir," she apologised after a moment, pulling her wand from her pocket and muttering the incantation to vanish the smudges of charcoal from the polished wood floor.

"If it happens again you'll be banned for life!" he warned her grouchily, waving a fist in the air, and she wondered whether he was related to Filch. They certainly could have been brothers.

"Come on," Nott prompted her, going so far as to reach down and swipe her bag from the floor, handing it to her before pushing her from the store and out into the comforting chill of the winter air. She took a moment to enjoy the frosty wind brushing against her face, the cold temperature helping ground her in the _present_, rather than the future. "What was that all about?" Nott asked her curiously, gesturing to the empty doorway with raised eyebrows.

"I just get really into my art, sometimes," she lied rather dully, not bothering to put any effort into making it sound authentic.

Nott didn't appear convinced, but she couldn't have cared less. She took another step, only for yet another wave of unpleasant dizziness to crash over her, making her want to retch. Again, she swallowed it down, refusing to vomit in the Slytherin's presence. Merlin knew she didn't need to give him anything else to tease her about, seeing as he'd already seen her mid-vision.

"Whoa," he said again, reaching out to help steady her with two strong, cold hands. She wanted to shrug off his hold, but was afraid the movement might make her sick. "Let's go get you some Pepper-Up Potion from Pomfrey," he said, voice cold but not unfriendly.

"I can get there by myself," she grumbled, breathing in another lungful of chilly air. She had no intention of actually going to the Hospital Wing, of course. She'd sooner cut off her own arm, but she was willing to say anything if it meant he'd leave her alone.

"Sure you can," he grunted condescendingly, long fingers tightening around her shoulder and beginning to force her in the direction of the path that led back to Hogwarts.

She'd only taken a few steps before she began to wobble, her own hand reaching out to grasp the stone wall of the bookstore, trying to keep her breathing even.

"Come on, before you pass out on me," Nott murmured, pushing her forwards again.

This time she did shake him off, uncaring how sick it made her feel. "I'm _fine_," she insisted as strongly as she could.

"You need to-"

"I'm not going to the damn Hospital Wing!"

The Slytherin retracted his hands and held them up placatingly. She glared, daring him to try and coerce her to go one more time. The hand not holding her weight against the building twitched, moving slightly closer to where her wand was hidden, prepared to hex him if he so much as blinked in a way she didn't like.

"Look, at the very least let's go get a butterbeer. You look like you could use a sip…or twelve," he spoke quietly, but his words left her dumbfounded.

"You want…to get a butterbeer…with _me_?" she asked, not quite able to process what he was saying.

The dark haired, lean boy rolled his hazel eyes in exasperation. "I'm not asking you on a blimming date," he told her sharply, reaching up to adjust the Slytherin green scarf wrapped securely around his neck almost as an afterthought. "I'm making sure you don't die in my care. Employers tend to check potential employee's records for involuntary manslaughter."

That made a lot more sense than him doing it out of the goodness of his black heart, Winona had to admit. She was exhausted, her episode had really taken it out of her. She sighed, all she wanted was to meet up with her friends, drink some butterbeer and not have to worry about a cunning Slytherin's ulterior motives.

She was, however, incredibly ill, and she needed something to warm her frozen insides, not to mention sit down without getting yelled at.

"Alright," she finally murmured, hoping beyond all hope that she wouldn't regret it. "Lead the way, Snake."

"Right this way, Lion," he sniped back smoothly, holding a hand out to the emptying street like he was showing it off at an exhibit. It was lunchtime, so it made sense that there would be less people wandering the streets, everybody inside to eat or, at the very least, chug some butterbeer.

Winona still stumbled as she walked, her legs shaky and unstable. Nott remained close to her side, arm held out like he didn't trust her not to collapse at any moment. Nobody paid them any mind as they shuffled along slowly through the snow, heading towards the Three Broomsticks, and nobody looked up as they entered the Inn either, everyone too absorbed in their own conversations to bother noticing the odd pairing of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin shambling together into the warm room.

Nott disappeared once they were inside but Winona didn't care, heading straight for an empty table in the corner and sitting down, kicking her feet up on the chair opposite her, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. There was still a while before she'd planned to meet the others, but she was content to wait, basking in the warmth of the room, enjoying being in the present and not being stuck in the horrifying – and apparently inevitable – future.

"Here we are," Nott appeared at the table a few minutes later, two tankards of butterbeer grasped in his hands. He set one in front of her, and she eyed it warily for a long minute, trying to decide if drinking it was a good idea. "It isn't poisoned, you know."

She sensed he was rolling his eyes, and she had to admit she was being a little ridiculous. Why would he do everything he had, only so he could poison her in a room full of witnesses?

She took a sip, biting back a moan at how sweet and warm it was as it settled in her belly.

"You look better already," he told her. Had anybody else been saying it, it would have probably sounded cheerful, but his voice was flat and cool, giving her no hints to the thoughts behind his eyes.

"Brilliant," she murmured in response, nose crinkling as she thought about her current predicament. When she'd woken up that morning, she hadn't expected to end up at a table in the Three Broomsticks with the oldest Nott brother, avoiding his eyes and sipping a butterbeer in barely-companionable silence.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

Apparently he wasn't as content with the silence part. "I told you," this time she put more effort into the lie. "Sometimes I get so immersed with what I'm doing that it's like the rest of the world fades away."

At least the last part was true, and besides, that couldn't have been surprising. Fred and George weren't the only students with a large reputation. While they were the Kings of Pranks, Misbehaviour and All Things Mischievous, she was known as That Paint-Stained, Art-Obsessed Gryffindor Girl who was usually too absorbed in her artwork to notice what was happening around her.

Still, as close to the truth as this answer was, it apparently wasn't enough for Nott. "I don't buy it," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of frothy butterbeer.

She fought the urge to splutter at the Slytherin's bluntness. "Well, you should, because it's the truth," she responded lamely, blinking owlishly, trying her hardest to convey sincerity.

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully, greenish-brownish eyes flickering over her face.

"Listen, Nott-"

"Jeremiah," he cut her off, continuing to stare at her with those fiercely intelligent, perceptive eyes.

"Excuse me?" she asked, bewildered by his interjection.

"My name's Jeremiah. Use it."

She wasn't quite sure what to make of him in that moment. She thought she had him figured out, but with a sudden shock she realised she didn't have a clue who he was or what exactly she was involved in. "Right," she muttered uncomfortably, blinking away her surprise before barrelling on. "Well, listen; thanks for your help. I guess I must be feeling under the weather. I'm meeting my friends here soon, so I'll have one of them take me to see Madame Pomfrey."

It was an outrageous lie, but he never needed to know.

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I think I'll stick around, just to be sure."

Irritation surged within her, but as usual, she kept her cool. "Don't you have any first years to go terrorise?" she asked snidely. Okay, so maybe she didn't always keep her cool as much as she would have liked to believe.

He smirked, and she was surprised by how alluring the expression made him look. "I think that's more your precious twins' department, don't you?" he cocked his head, hands wrapped around his tankard, fingers long and pale. She had no idea how to respond to that; she could only thank Merlin that she didn't gape like a fish.

She wanted to point out that _he_ was the bully, not them, but couldn't seem to find a way to do so, instead biting into her tongue until her mouth turned salty.

Jeremiah Nott was intelligent, that much she knew. He was at the top of most of their classes, and he was known for spending a lot of his time in the library. Sure, he could be cruel as well; she'd heard enough stories of him hazing first year Hufflepuffs to know that was true, but maybe she had him all wrong. Maybe he was like the twins; just out for a laugh.

She didn't have time to give it any more thought, as in the next moment two tall and familiar figures appeared above them. Winona turned to see the twins and couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, the sight of them like a balm to her frayed nerves.

"Got a problem, Nott?" Fred asked, his tone deadlier than she'd ever heard it.

"None at all, Weasley," Jeremiah responded casually, corners of his mouth holding that attractive smirk. "Do you?"

"Beat it, you bloody parasite," Fred continued, displeased by the Slytherin's calm. If there was one thing the twins revelled in, it was a reaction.

"Harsh."

"Now, Nott," George's voice was decidedly lighter, but held the hint of a promise of violence. He jerked his chin in the direction of the door, message crystal clear.

Jeremiah stood to his feet, tankard clutched in his hands and spun around to look at Winona, an impish spark in his eye that was darker and more dangerous than the mischievous glint she saw so often in the twins'.

"Until later, Winona," he told her, surprising her with the use of her first name. She hadn't even realised he knew it. "I hope you feel better."

She couldn't think of a single response, brain still foggy from the episode. She watched him walk away, feeling rebelliously intrigued by the, admittedly, _very_ attractive Slytherin.

Fred and George remained standing for a beat, watching Jeremiah leave before they finally dropped into the seats opposite her, looks of identical frustration on their faces. "Was he bothering you?" George asked through a frown.

"What did he mean he 'hopes you feel better'?" Fred demanded before she could answer, red brows pulled together in combined annoyance and concern.

Winona leant forwards, warm butterbeer still held between her palms. She didn't want anybody overhearing what she was about to say. "I had a vision," she revealed softly, shifting her eyes between them to gauge their reactions.

"Shit, where?" they asked together, worry in their matching cornflower-blue eyes. "Did anyone see?" George barrelled on, glancing around like he would find the pub's patrons watching them knowingly. Nobody was so much as blinking in their direction.

"Only the guy who works at _Tomes and Scrolls, _plus Nott," she said gently, pausing to take a calming sip of her drink. "It wasn't easy, but I was able to hold it off until I got to safety."

The boys were relieved, and it showed on their faces.

"It was bad, though," she murmured, staring down into the frothy amber of her butterbeer, absentmindedly swirling the liquid around in the tankard. "One of the worst I've ever had. I could barely stand up after it."

"Are you okay?" Fred reached out, like he wanted to do something with his hands, only to realise he didn't know what at the last moment and pulling back, folding them in front of himself awkwardly.

"I'm fine," she assured him with a forced smile.

"What was the vision?" George was the one to ask, pausing to scan the area for eavesdroppers again, like he didn't trust the pub to keep their ears to themselves.

She reluctantly let go of her butterbeer, reaching into her overstuffed bag with charcoal-stained hands, fishing for her sketchbook to hold it out for them to view. "I don't know who the people are," she told them as they stared at it, blue eyes taking in every aspect of the blindly sketched drawing. "All I know is that, what I saw? It was nothing but pure evil."

There was a moment of quiet, before Winona decided she definitely needed a distraction.

She shoved her sketchbook out of sight, bringing her drink closer to her and taking a sip before speaking, "so, did you end up giving the Marauder's Map to Harry, like you said?"

The twins frowned for an extra second, like they didn't approve of the change of topic. But they weren't the type to let a sombre mood linger, and both broke into wide smiles like nothing had ever concerned them. "Handed it over before coming down here," Fred told her.

"What'd he think?" she asked eagerly.

"Speechless," George said with a bark of laughter. Winona giggled at the thought.

"You guys gonna have some butterbeer?" she asked, gesturing at their empty hands.

"Spent all our money in Zonko's," Fred shrugged as though it didn't matter, but there was slight glint to his eyes that Winona recognised as embarrassment. She tried not to frown, never wanting her best mates to feel embarrassed in front of her, at least not for such a silly reason – one that would never matter to her in a million years.

"Don't be stupid," she said smoothly, digging into her pocket and extracting a handful of gleaming silver Sickles. She wasn't rolling in Galleons by any means – the only source of money she had access to was the small pension the Ministry gave orphaned witches and wizards – but she could afford to buy them both a butterbeer. "Go get one each, plus some gingerbread for us all to share," she ordered them, holding out the coins.

Neither twin moved.

"Either you go do it, or I'm going to have to stand my exhausted arse up and do it myself," she warned them, shaking her fist pointedly, the coins inside jingling against each other. Fred and George exchanged a brief glance before George finally reached out and took the Sickles from her.

"You're a doll, Andrews," he said sweetly. She playfully batted her eyelashes as he stood and made his way up to the bar.

Once he was gone, Fred launched into the tale of how they had snuck Fizzing Whizbees into Lee's pumpkin juice that morning, making him scream as he began to levitate. She'd missed it by sleeping in, and quietly cursed her horrendous sleep schedule.

He had her laughing in no time, and once George had returned with their butterbeer and gingerbread, he added in the colourful curse words Lee had used until he realised what had happened and begun laughing.

The door opened and Winona felt the urge to look over like an itching in the back of her brain. So she did, catching sight of Ron, Hermione and Harry as they entered the pub. Winona nudged Fred's ankle with the end of her boot and he looked up, following her gaze to see the trio taking seats at a table partly obscured by a large Christmas tree. Ron paused, then turned and walked over to the bar where Rosmerta was polishing a scuffed up glass.

"Good on him!" George cheered for Harry, and Fred mirrored the sentiment.

"I'll be back," Winona told the pair, standing wearily to her feet and carrying her butterbeer over to their table, slipping into the empty spot beside Harry, who jumped at her abrupt appearance. "Wotcher, you two," she greeted them, noting that Hermione had gone a ghostly pale from opposite her. "Fancy seeing you here," she said cheekily.

They both looked shocked to see her there – Hermione was probably terrified she was going to dob them in. But surely she knew her better than that by now?

"You cold, Harry?" she asked Harry instead, noticing that he had only a light sweater to combat the freezing temperatures.

He nodded sheepishly. "A bit, yeah."

"The butterbeer will warm you right up," she promised, nodding to where Ron was standing next to Rosmerta, tips of his ears a deep red.

"Do you _really_ not think it's a bad idea for Harry to be here?" Hermione hissed, going from terrified to blatantly disapproving in mere seconds. It might be impressive if it weren't so exasperating.

"Harry's a big boy," Winona shrugged. "Besides, he can't stop living his life just because somebody wants to kill him. If he did that, he'd have never left his house once!"

Despite the dark honesty in the statement, Harry saw the humour in it, snorting with laughter from beside her.

"Lighten up, 'Mione," Winona said softly. "Harry's gonna be fine. I can _feel _it."

Hermione sniffed rather pompously. "Forgive me if I don't take your _feeling _as enough proof."

Winona merely exchanged an eye roll with Harry just as Ron reappeared at the table, three tankards of butterbeer held in careful hands. "Winnie," Ron said in surprise, taking a heavy seat beside Hermione. "Did you know about the Map?" he demanded in lieu of a traditional greeting.

"'Course I did," she replied easily, taking another sip of her butterbeer and watching as Harry did the same. He stopped shivering almost instantly, blinking down at the drink in surprise. Winona smothered a smile.

"You've known all this time and never turned it in?" Hermione asked with that same air of judgemental disapproval.

"Twins showed it to me in first year. I was the one to figure out the password to open it," she shrugged, refusing to be made to feel guilty. "Besides, it's brilliant and deserves to be used. It'd be a _crime_ to let it waste away in Filch's bottom drawer."

Hermione humphed rather loudly in disagreement but otherwise she didn't reply, while Harry and Ron nodded in sure agreement. Hermione was miffed they weren't on her side, but honestly, what did she expect?

Winona heard someone call her name, and looked across the room to see Ange, Alicia and Katie all having joined the twins at their booth in the corner.

"That's my cue," she said to the trio of third years, climbing to her feet, ignoring the way her knees trembled, her balance still unsteady after her vision. "Keep your head down, Harry," she warned the boy, not totally sure why she said it, but feeling it was somehow necessary, and with a final smile left, heading back towards her friends.

"Get all your shopping done?!" Angelina asked her when she sat down, slotting into the place between George and Alicia.

"Yup," Winona replied, gulping down the last of her butterbeer. "You?"

"The line in Honeydukes was about a mile long!" Alicia complained, wiping the foam from around her mouth.

"And they'd sold out of Cockroach Clusters," Katie added with a disappointed frown.

Fred and George sniggered. "Why would you want Cockroach Clusters?" Fred asked through his laughter.

"They're not _that_ bad, okay?" Katie whispered defensively, flushing a light pink. The whole group broke out into easy, rambunctious laughter.

"_Gross, _Katie," Alicia shrieked in her disgusted hilarity. "They're made from _real_ _cockroaches_!"

Katie turned a darker pink as the group only kept laughing at her expense. Disturbing and inexplicable encounter with the oldest Nott brother notwithstanding, it hadn't been such a bad day, Winona found as she giggled, surrounded by her best friends in the world, the smell of gingerbread and the sounds of laughter filling the air.

If only the good could stay.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'm getting a lot of theories about the future of the story from you all, and some of you are right, others kind of off-base. But the fact that any of you care enough at all to ponder what might happen later on is amazing to me. Thank you for reading, and thank you _especially_ to those of you who review. It makes my whole day.**

**Also, I have a proposition for you any fellow writers reading this – I'm currently in the market for some beta work, as in _I_ read _your_ story and give you advice/critiques/edits, whatever you need. If you're a fan of my work and were interested in having me read any of your upcoming projects, now would be a great time to speak up! **

**Depending on how many offers I get, I might not be able to get to all of them – and if they're in a fandom I'm not familiar with it might also not be a good fit – but I've got some free time and I'd be really interested to read some of your guys' work. It doesn't have to be Harry Potter, by the way. If you're working on something in another fandom, by all means, let me know. Shoot me a private message with your story details, and everyone who does will get at least a shoutout in the AN of an upcoming chapter.**

**Okay, that's all from me. Thanks guys, and I'll see you again soon!**


	23. All fine and dandy

**A/N: We get another tiny glimpse into Fred's POV in part of this chapter. I know you guys love reading what he's thinking, so I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!**

* * *

That night, Winona couldn't sleep. Keeping her awake was a strange niggling sensation at her brain, like she'd forgotten something vitally important, but just couldn't figure out what it was.

Eventually, sometime around midnight, she climbed from her bed, picked up her bag and silently slipped from the dorm, padding down the steps.

The common room looked empty at first glance, and she relaxed, making a beeline for the couch by the fireplace which still crackled with the dwindling remains of a fire. She held out a hand to the warmth, indulging for a moment before turning around, only almost leap out of her skin in fright as she realised that she wasn't as alone as she'd assumed.

Harry sat on the couch, curled up into a ball, looking unexpectedly depressed considering the day he'd had. "Harry?" she asked in surprise, and he blinked up at her through pain-filled eyes. Something was bothering him. "What're you doing down here so late?" she asked, keeping her tone casual as she collapsed into the cushions beside him.

"Can't sleep," he replied with an uncaring lift of his shoulders, his expression vacant. He looked strangely hollow, and it quickly began to worry her. "What about you?" he asked, but it was an afterthought, like he was just going through the motions.

"Chronic insomnia," she replied, and he nodded, absorbing this before looking back at the glowing coals blankly.

Deciding to give the kid his space, Winona pulled out her sketchbook and began to idly trace her pencil over the blank white of the page. The drawing slowly began to form into a profile picture of Harry, and she took great care to get the forlorn look in his eyes _just_ right.

"Sirius Black was my parent's best friend," Harry finally spoke after a little over an hour had passed. He hadn't so much as moved an inch, still staring into the dying remains of the fire. He seemed like he was still in shock, and at his words Winona put down her pencil, giving him her full attention. "He was best man at their wedding, he's my godfather, and he's the _reason_ they're _dead._"

The words were heavy, spoken with a seething hatred for the man who had betrayed his family. Her heart racing, Winona watched the younger boy carefully, struggling to process what he was telling her.

"Sirius Black is your godfather?"

"They would still be alive if it wasn't for him," he said, as if she hadn't even spoken.

Winona frowned. "How do you know all this?"

"Heard the Minister talking about it with McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid at the Three Broomsticks this afternoon," he muttered, words dripping with anger. He'd still yet to look at her. "All of them knew, and none of them ever _told_ me."

Winona's concern was beginning to pull at her brow, making it ache. "Maybe they were trying to protect you," she suggested softly.

"And that makes it okay?" he snapped back, the words like both fire and ice.

"No," she said. "No, it doesn't."

Harry reached up to run a hand through his unruly black hair. "Everyone's always keeping something from me. Everyone knows more about me than me. It isn't fair," he said. He wasn't whining or complaining, he was stating a fact, one that troubled him more than she'd realised.

"I'm sorry," she said, apologising not for anything she'd done, but on behalf of all the others who he felt had wronged him. She was sorry that his life was like this. Sorry he seemed to be the one who always had to suffer. She wished things were easier for him – wished she could _make_ them easier.

"I want to kill him," Harry said, spitting the words with hate. "One day, I _will_ kill him."

A zing of something shot down Winona's spine, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. "But what if he kills you first?" she asked quietly, because the question had to be asked.

"He won't," he said with a conviction she wished she shared.

They drifted back into silence and slowly Harry's tense posture began to relax, his clenched fists unfurling and his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly, the fire now nothing but a pit of glowing embers. She wasn't asking for courtesy sake, or because she pitied him in any way. She was asking because her own peace of mind hinged on the answer, because she was one of the few people he knew who actually gave a damn about the real him.

"I will be," he promised, leaning back into the couch, the cushions sinking around him. It would have to be good enough, she realised, biting her lip as she turned her own eyes back to the dying fire. "Do you have godparents?" he asked a few minutes later, and she got the feeling it was because he needed a distraction – or maybe he was just genuinely curious.

They spent so much time talking about him – it would be nice to know a little more about the girl who was always there for him, one of the most reliable things he'd found in this brave new world of his.

"No," she told him, happy to talk about herself if it distracted him, no matter how depressing the topic could prove to be. "Or, if I did, they certainly weren't around to claim me when my parents died."

"How old were you when they died?" he asked, and she appreciated the way he didn't dance around the question. She supposed he understood what it was like more so than any of her other friends ever could. He was the only friend she had who'd lost his parents as a baby, too. He probably hated when people tried to be polite as they asked. It wouldn't have surprised her.

"Three," she answered him, bringing her legs up and curling her arms around them in an embrace, seeking comfort from herself that she knew she wouldn't find anywhere else.

"And you don't remember them?"

"Not really," she shrugged, eyes far away as she searched her memories, the ones she kept locked safely away where nobody – not even her – could touch them. "I remember my mum a little," she confessed. "How she smelt – like fresh cookie dough – and the way she would sing me to sleep at night."

Harry ducked his head. "And your dad?"

Winona breathed deeply. "I remember the sound of his laugh. It was loud and sharp, like the bark of a dog." She closed her eyes and tilted her head, as though if she concentrated hard enough it might echo across time for her to hear again.

"How did they die?" Harry asked, still quiet and pensive, letting the sound of her voice wash over him. It was warm, just a little husky, and completely comforting, like a blanket on a cold day.

"You-Know-Who. They were killed in battle during the first war," she told him factually. "That's all I know."

"No one ever told you more?"

"I've never really asked," she admitted softly. "Most of the time I just think knowing anything else would just make it hurt more."

"And right now?" Harry asked, so quiet it was almost like a spell had befallen them, one he was afraid to break.

"I think I'd like to know more than just their names," she whispered. "But I'm sure I'll wake up in the morning, glad I'm safe in my ignorance once again."

The pair sat in silence for a long few moments. Harry was frowning, like he was thinking extra hard about something important. "You know their names?" he finally asked, turning away from the empty hearth to look at her properly, green eyes sparkling in the glow of the dying embers.

Winona tilted her head, and when she spoke, the names were said with care, like they were something to be treasured and cherished, a missing piece of her identity that she still didn't fully understand. "Jessica and Orion Andrews."

"Jessica..." Harry murmured to himself, a frown pulling at his face. But this wasn't the brooding, upset one from before. This one was like he were trying to remember something, something he knew he knew but just couldn't seem to grasp ahold of in his head.

"What?" she prompted him when he went another long moment without speaking.

"The name just sounds familiar, is all..." he murmured. Winona wasn't convinced. She felt like he knew something that she maybe didn't, and the possibility of that something began to make her heart race and her hands feel clammy.

"Harry," she said, the two lone syllables a plea for answers.

Harry blinked, then shook his head. "It's nothing," he told her, voice gaining strength. "I'm just really tired, I guess."

Winona desperately wanted to press him for more answers, but he'd had a rough enough day as it was. Besides, Winona knew the look on his face. She saw it often enough in the mirror, so she knew when not to push.

"Okay," she relented, leaning back into the folds of the couch, pushing it from her mind. "You should head up to bed, try and get some good sleep. You look like you could use it."

He gave a waning smile that was tinged with exhaustion, his eyes still haunted from the information he'd discovered about his past. "I think I'll stay up, just a little while longer," he murmured, returning his stare to the glowing fireplace before them.

"All right," she said softly and picking up her sketchbook once more. "Just a little while longer."

* * *

The Christmas holidays passed slowly. Winona had, in a way, been dreading them.

She couldn't have said why, but she just knew she didn't particularly feel in the Christmas spirit this year. Maybe it was the whole 'Sirius Black' thing, or maybe the dementors constantly circling the grounds, but it was hard to think about the holidays when she felt so flat and concerned.

Fred and George were the only two of her friends – other than Harry, Ron and Hermione – to stay over the break, and they spent a great deal of it in the barren common room playing games, planning upcoming pranks and spitballing ideas for the joke shop.

It had been a great year for snowfall (and she definitely _didn't_ want to think about how much the dementors had to do with that), and she was just dying to get out into the open. The school was practically a ghost town what with everyone at home for the holidays, and the snow in the courtyard was like a perfect cloud, just begging for her to collapse into it.

The boys didn't sound particularly thrilled by her plans, strewn about by the toasty fire and working on brewing a complicated potion, taking advantage of the empty common room. They'd been getting a lot of work done for the shop, and judging by the smell, Winona would say they were working on perfecting the Puking Pasties recipe. She was proud of them, probably more proud of them than anyone in the whole world, but even still, she didn't want to _just_ _sit around._

"Come on, guys," she pleaded, thrown over one of the couches, her head tipped back, looking at them upside-down. "We've been up here for days," she didn't really want to sound like she was complaining – but she kind of was.

"We're on the cusp of a revelation, Winnie, I can _feel_ it!" said Fred enthusiastically, huddled over the bubbling cauldron, the liquid inside slowly turning a bubblegum pink.

"You don't even like Potions," she replied, narrowing her eyes at her floppy, ginger-haired friend. "George is the Potions guy. You're the Charms guy. That's how it's always worked."

"We're a team, Winnie," George tutted as he painstakingly measured and weighed chunks of pickled slugs. "You could be using this time to sketch," he suggested distractedly.

She sighed, pushing herself upright and waiting until the fog in her head cleared before she replied. "I know how important this is to you," she told them solemnly, and Fred looked up with a raised eyebrow. "But it's _Christmas_!" she cried, falling back dramatically, and the twins rolled their eyes as one, as though they practised every night before bed. "We're _meant _to go play in the snow, and pillage the kitchens and eat all the pudding and sweets we can fit in our stomachs!"

"Sweets?" Fred asked skeptically.

"It's Christmas, I'm allowed one vice," she replied defensively, and he gave snort of laughter before turning resolutely back to their work. She stared at the twins for another few moments before standing to her feet in a huff and marching determinately up the stairs towards the girls' dorms.

A woman on a mission, Winona quickly changed into warmer clothes and cast a warming charm on her boots before shoving them onto her feet, because she hated frozen toes. She yanked a beanie on over her messy hair and made sure she had her bag of art supplies thrown over her shoulder just in case she fell into a vision unexpectedly. Then she nodded at herself in the mirror before turning and marching down the stairs again.

The boys looked up at her entrance, cocking their heads at her determined expression. "What're you doing now?" George asked dubiously.

"Um, enjoying my youth?" she replied coolly. They watched as she stalked over to the portrait hole, all but tripping through it in her haste to leave, but she didn't care, pulling herself up and letting it close behind her with a creak.

She realised halfway down to the courtyard that she'd overreacted and sighed at herself, reaching up to slap at her cheeks in reprimand. She considered going back to apologise for being huffy, but she really did want to go out into the snow, so she continued on, winding her way through the empty, peaceful halls. She could hear the snow falling around her, and although she would have loved to sketch it, knew that today was about _living_ the moment, not _capturing_ it.

As expected, the courtyard was barren, a thick coating of snow covering the ground, reaching up to about her waist. Plopping her bag down under the shelter, where her supplies wouldn't get wet, Winona made sure her clothes were on properly, squared her shoulders, then promptly catapulted herself into the carpet of freshly fallen snow.

The snow gave way, and she sunk into it with a laugh. It was freezing, but she enjoyed the bite against her skin, throwing out her arms and looking back up at the grey sky through the hole she'd made in the snow's surface.

She debated making a snow angel, but decided to wait, sitting back up and beginning to wade through the icy crystals that made up her temporary sea. She let her fingertips trail over the perfect layer of the surface, her nails making subtle imprints on the top of the snow.

She was halfway across the courtyard when there was a shout of her name from behind her. She jumped at the sound, but relaxed just as quickly as she turned her head, recognising the mop of red hair wading through the snow towards her.

"Sorry," she called to him before he could even reach her, her expression twisted down into a sad grimace. "I'm just cranky."

Fred stopped beside her, a wall of the fluffy snow separating them. "Don't apologise," he told her in a mock-stern voice. "You were right – it's Christmas. And Christmas is a time for family."

Her eyes shot to his in surprise, and she found him smiling.

"I stayed behind to keep you company, not make it worse for you by being a self-involved git," he added guiltily.

"What? No, of course not-" she cut herself off, brow knitting together in confusion as she finally registered his words. "You stayed behind to keep me company?" she repeated, and now the flush to Fred's skin had nothing to do with the cold. "I thought you two just decided you didn't wanna spend the holidays stuck with Percy going on about his plans for the new year."

Ears burning red, Fred struggled to come off casual. "Well, you know, that was part of it," he muttered, glancing over at the frozen tree on the edge of the courtyard, bare of all leaves, like it were more interesting than her. "But, well, you said you were gonna be here, and I knew you'd be alone, so I – _we_, just thought…"

A smile had grown on Winona's face, bright and brilliant. "You absolute twat," she said through the affectionate grin, taking in Fred's pink, freckled complexion and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

His expression slackened with surprise for a moment, but before he could so much as utter a word he was ruthlessly tackled to the ground. Winona leapt on top of him, forcing him to collapse back into the snow, arms snapping up to wrap around her, instinctually making sure she wasn't hurt as they fell. The sound of her laughter filled the air – loud, brilliant, unrestrained laughter – and it warmed him from the inside out, the effect stronger and more intense than any firewhisky could ever hope to be.

Staring up at her vivacious grin, he noted that her pale skin was flushed a bright pink, particularly along the apples of her cheeks and on the tip of her pointed, elfin nose. Without thought he reached up to tap it. She kept grinning, completely at ease, like being with him was as simple and easy as breathing.

"You're the best friend in the world," she told him without so much as a second thought, grinning happily, oblivious to the intimate way they were pressed against one another. "You know that, right?" she asked, her sparkling grey eyes the exact same colour as the sky from which the snow was falling.

It wasn't anything she hadn't said to him before, but this time he didn't feel the same way. This time he wasn't filled with a warm amusement, a fond feeling growing happily in his stomach. This time his insides sank, like somebody had hit him with some kind of Drooping Jinx – if such a thing existed.

He stared up at her, trying to sort through the sudden influx of negative feelings, trying to calm his racing heart as he blinked into her eyes. There had been moments, moments where recently he'd wondered if something had changed between them. It seemed impossible and beyond stupid for him to let anything shift – things were perfect the way they were, nothing needed to change – but in that exact moment, in the middle of that snow-filled courtyard with Winona laid atop him, grinning down at him like the first glimpse of the sun at dawn, he knew that – for him – they already had.

But he was her _best friend in the world_, so why should it matter to her? It didn't matter how he felt. Didn't matter that in one heartbeat he felt one way, and in the next everything he thought he knew was different. Because by her own words, he was her _best friend._ How could he ever hope to be anything more? How could he ever think she'd be able to look at him like she looked at Sugar Quills, or fresh watercolour paints, or hot apple pie on a cold day? He wasn't one of the things in this world that she loved.

They were friends. The nail was already in the coffin. And he knew he didn't have a chance in hell of making her see him any differently. He would suffer in silence, then eventually, if he suffered long enough, maybe he would get through to the other side and everything would go back to the way it had always been.

It just _had_ to, because he had no idea what he was going to do if it didn't.

"Fred?" she asked, frowning when he didn't reply. She was leaning atop him, forearms braced against his chest as she watched some kind of war go on behind his cornflower-blue eyes. "All right?" she pressed when he still said nothing, wondering what could possibly be going on within that big, wonderful brain of his.

Finally he smiled, but she noticed right away that it wasn't a happy one, or a placating one, or even one of agreement. Instead it was one tinged with the sour edge of mischief, and she barely had time to open her mouth to say 'no' to whatever he was planning before she had a face full of bitterly cold snow.

"Fred!" she shrieked, flying back and brushing off the fluffy white substance as Fred cackled like a madman across from her, head thrown back in amusement. Despite herself, a grin appeared on her lips as she scooped up a handful of snow. It was cold and powdery, slipping through her fingertips soothingly, but she threw it at him with a laugh of her own.

It hit him over the head, coating his fiery red hair with a thick dusting of white, and he gaped at her with that familiar spark of mischief glinting in his eyes. Yelping through her laughter, Winona climbed clumsily to her feet, stumbling away, but she was only pelted with more fistfuls of cold, loose snow. Squealing at the attack, she whirled around to reciprocate, tossing snow back in his direction.

It was so easy to fall into fun with Fred, so easy to abandon propriety and maturity and just be a kid. That was what she loved most about him, other than the way he could so easily make her smile. He made it feel okay to just enjoy the moment, to find fun in the small things.

He caught her around the waist, yanking her feet up off the ground with laughable ease, tossing her into the sea of snow that surrounded them. Her laughter bounced around the empty courtyard, Fred's joining in a moment later. Even as the snow melted and soaked through her clothes, she could only think about how mind-numbingly happy she was in that exact moment, and how she was going to make sure Fred would always be around to laugh with her about nothing.

Eventually the pair conceded to a reluctant draw, mostly due to being soaked to the bone, both shivering against the bitter wind brushing over their wet skin. "Come on," Fred said, hooking an arm around her shoulders to begin angling her in the direction of the castle. "Let's get you warmed up before you get sick."

She picked up her bag, which Fred immediately took from her, happily ignoring her protests as he hoisted it over his free shoulder, leading the way back towards Gryffindor Tower.

The walk was silent apart from the chattering of Winona's teeth, but still completely comfortable. The only people they ran into were some of the ghosts, but they were all too caught up in their griping over Peeves and his latest prank to notice them, so the pair slipped by with ease.

The common room was like a beacon of light and Winona all but tripped inside, making a beeline for the fire. George didn't seem to have moved so much as an inch, still hovering over his bubbling cauldron and scribbling absentminded notes on a spare bit of parchment to his right.

"There you are," he muttered, taking a moment to look up, then cocking an eyebrow at the pair, now both huddled beside the fire, hands held out to its warmth. "What the bloody hell happened to you two?" he asked in surprise, taking in their soaked clothes and blue-tinted lips. He figured it out, however, before either of them could open their mouths to respond. "Snow fight, eh?"

Winona smiled back, the expression sweet and a tad sheepish. "Sorry about before," she told him simply, shuffling closer to the warmth of the crackling fire. "I'd offer to help you with the potion, but I think I'd just be more of a hindrance," she joked, and George snorted in agreement. She turned to Fred, pulling her wand from where it had been slipped in her boot. "Want me to dry you off?" she offered.

"Promise you won't accidentally turn me into a toad?" he teased.

Winona rolled her eyes. "I may be rubbish at this stuff, but not even I can confuse Charms with Transfiguration."

"Go on then," he told her, opening his arms and tipping his head back in invitation. "Do your worst."

This time she was the one who snorted as she muttered the incantation under her breath, flicking her wand at him and watching as he dried, the water magically evaporating from his clothes and skin. He clapped, and she rolled her eyes again as she tapped the top of her own head, the spell a little more difficult to work on herself, but possible. She remained slightly damp, but it was better than nothing.

"Go finish perfecting the recipe with Georgie," she ordered him after a moment, tucking her wand away, already reaching for her bag. "I'll work some more on the banner sketches. And this time I won't even complain," she added with a tongue-touched grin.

The night ended up being peaceful and fun, and she found that she didn't feel like she was alone at all. She felt like she still had her family with her every day, and that was all she could ask for during the holiday season.

They weren't the only ones to stay back for the holiday. Ron, Harry and Hermione stayed too, though they mostly kept to themselves, reading heavy, boring-looking volumes in the common room by the fire. It wasn't, however, until Christmas Eve that Winona was clued in to exactly what they were doing.

"Winnie," Ron began as strongly as he could, chest puffed out as he spoke. Winona looked up from the piece she was working on of some Cornish Pixies, putting the finishing touches on their little blue bodies. "We need some help."

"What's up?" she asked pleasantly, full from the dinner they'd finished earlier, glancing over to see the twins standing over a small cauldron, taking advantage of the still-empty room while it lasted. When Hermione asked what they were doing, they told her it was an extra-credit assignment from Snape. The bushy-haired brunette hadn't appeared to be convinced, but let them get away with it, clearly not in the mood to argue.

Harry and Ron stood in front of her where she was curled on one of the big, squashy chairs by the fire. Hermione sat on the main couch, an unhappy frown on her face as she pretended not to be listening. "Well, it's about Hagrid," Harry told her, reaching up to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"What about him?"

"You know the about 'incident'," the kid used air quotes around the word, making Winona laugh, "involving Malfoy and the hippogriff in his class earlier this year?"

"I may have heard a version or twenty," she said cheekily, seeing that the conversation may be a lengthy one and sitting back in the chair, giving them her full attention.

"Well, Malfoy's dad got Hagrid put on trial," Ron explained.

Her jaw dropped open in equal surprise and horror. "He's isn't getting sacked, is he?"

"No, no," they assured her. "He got off. He's not in any trouble."

"That's a relief."

They looked reluctant to continue, and she knew that wasn't the end of the story. "Well, now Buckbeak – the Hippogriff – is on trial, with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. They're threatening to…put him down."

"You're kidding," she said, fury hitting her like a train.

"I'm afraid not," Harry shook his head sombrely. "His hearing's in April."

"They're going to _kill_ that poor creature just because Malfoy can't tell a hippogriff from a horse?" Harry nodded grimly. She let out a loud, filthy curse, her hands tightening into angry fists.

Hermione glanced up at the language, disapproval in her eyes. She looked to be straining to keep herself from berating Winona about the cussing. Really, she should have been used to it by now – Winona was widely known for having the vocabulary of a sailor.

Winona sighed, relaxing her tense muscles and rubbing the frown from her furrowed brow. "How can I help?" she asked, much more calmly than she had previously spoken.

"I don't suppose you've had any..._visions,_" Ron whispered the word like it was dirty, and it took a lot for her not to roll her eyes, "...about a Hippogriff? Or Hagrid?"

She took a moment to scan her memory, but no such work came to mind. "No, sorry," she replied, feeling rather useless.

"You said once that you were working to…bring on visions as they're needed," Harry continued hesitantly, like he was worried she would react badly to the words. "Is that possible?"

She hadn't tried to do that in a while, and after what had happened in Hogsmeade only a short week ago, it was the very last thing she wanted to try. But, she thought, imagine how good it would feel to have her talents be of some _use_ for once.

"I haven't made much progress on that front," she admitted quietly, glancing down at her case full of pencils, idly rolling a purple one around in its place. Harry and Ron deflated, disappointed by her reply. "But I'm happy to give it a go."

Harry was more perceptive than his friend, sensing the hesitation in her voice. "If we don't do something, Buckbeak will be executed before the end of the school year," he told her gently, not pushing, but reminding her that an innocent life hung in the balance.

She nodded, a steely resolve growing within her. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll start trying to induce a vision."

Just saying the words scared her, but she knew she didn't have a choice. How could she stand by and do nothing, just because the thought of trying terrified her? What was the worst that could happen? She could feel a little dizzy?

Before the boys had a chance to thank her, Hermione let out a little scoff from behind them, the sound loud enough to draw their attention. For a moment she didn't seem to realise they had noticed, but then felt the weight of their eyes on her and looked up, cheeks flushing pink.

"Something to say, 'Mione?" Winona asked lightly and kindly, giving the frizzy-haired girl an opportunity to speak her mind. She'd rather have doubts spoken to her face than whispered about behind her back.

Hermione's blush only darkened. "Well – I just don't think relying on something as wishy-washy as _premonitions _is the best way to handle this situation," she finally spoke, a slight tremor in her voice.

By then the twins' attention was drawn away from their extra-curricular activity, perking up and paying closer attention to the conversation happening before them.

Winona eyed the younger witch thoughtfully, considering how to respond. She was insulted, even though this reaction was nothing new coming from Hermione.

"I see," she murmured coolly. "So, transfiguring people into frogs and charming pineapples to dance is all fine and dandy, but Merlin forbid somebody predict the _future_."

Hermione said nothing.

"Besides, it's not like my ability has saved your life or anything," she added, unable to help herself. Suddenly Hermione's eyes were shining with tears and Winona's stomach swooped with dread. "Shit," she cursed again, pushing her things to the side and clamouring off the chair she was buried in, tripping over to Hermione's side as the girl sniffled sadly. "Please don't cry." Her hands hovered over the younger girl's arms, not quite sure what to do with them. "Uh, it was a joke," she continued, barrelling onwards, hoping to somehow backtrack and fix whatever she'd done wrong. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Hermione sniffled again, making every other person in the room feel even more awkward. "It's okay," she assured her after a moment, shaking her head as though to clear it of fog. "I suppose I'm just overly sensitive about the whole situation. I just can't believe Buckbeak could possibly be _executed_ over this."

Relieved the waterworks had been prevented, Winona let out an appeased sigh, sitting back on her heels and relaxing. The twins snickered from the corner, but both girls expertly ignored them. She and Hermione may have rarely seen eye to eye, but there was a certain bond that came with being the only girls surrounded by their male cohorts.

"I know it probably isn't of much relief to you, being the lady-of-logic you are, but I'm going to try really hard to stop this from happening," she promised, voice small.

Hermione didn't look totally convinced, but she smiled back nonetheless, reaching out to pat Winona's shoulder gratefully. Once the moment had passed she turned back to the thick tome in her lap and Winona was relieved to be off the hook, moving back over to her chair and settling in again, content to sketch the night away.

She glanced up once, seeing the trio get sucked back into their studying, Ron yawning every now and again, then looked over at the twins who had returned to their project, their cauldron bubbling away while they grinned over it like a pair of maniacal super villains.

And she thought about how nice it was to be home, with her family, for Christmas.

Winona woke up alone on Christmas morning, and she found she didn't mind it. It was nice to sleep in, waking when she was ready to a quiet dorm and a stack of gifts on the end of her bed. Although she was eager to get the day started, she took a long while to revel in the silence as she stared out the window from under her toasty warm covers, watching as large snowflakes drifted down from the thick blanket of clouds covering the sky.

Once she'd decided that she'd revelled enough, she kicked off her covers and crawled to the foot of her mattress where the wrapped presents awaited.

Her Christmas haul was predictable but in no way disappointing. Mrs Weasley sent her the usual sweater that she knitted for everyone each year. It was another purple one, with the letters _WA_ on the front in brilliant gold. It was so soft that she couldn't resist pressing it against her face to feel the fabric before slipping it over her head and pulling it down around her body. It fit loosely, but she liked it that way.

The girls in the dorm had all pitched in to buy her a Self-Writing Quill to _'help with your ever dwindling homework habits_' as they'd said. She'd laughed at the note, shaking her head at the gift and setting it aside. Lee sent her enough Sugar Quills to last the rest of the year – something she was incredibly grateful for, as her stash was running low. She knew he'd like the Ice Mice that she'd sent him.

Their friendship had initially blossomed over their shared love of sweets, so they kept the tradition alive every year for holidays.

The next package was from Fred and George. She gently prodded the wrapping, relieved when it didn't rattle as it had some years in the past. The package was flat and rectangular. She didn't think it was a gag gift, but she was still ever-so-slightly wary as she pulled off the wrapping, surprised when she finally uncovered the present – a brand new sketchbook.

Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise and she hastily opened it, running her hands across the smooth parchment. She glanced down, noticing a small card that had dropped from the book.

_It never ends_, was all it said, written in Fred's familiar pathetic attempt at cursive.

Curious, she picked it up, holding it at an angle and beginning to flick through the pages. Though she'd technically been expecting it, she was still shocked when the pages never came to an end. "How the devil...?" she trailed off to the empty room, staring down at her new treasure in wonderment. The twins really were downright genius; a hundred times more clever than she could ever hope to be.

She glanced down at where her pile had sat, realising it was now completely empty except for one thing, some kind of paper rose. She picked it up, twirling it between her fingers as she stared at the intricately cut and folded layers of the piece.

It was pale pink, and seemed to glitter in the light streaming in from the window, and she sniffed, taking in the scent of real roses that emanated from the origami masterpiece. "Huh," she hummed, glancing over her things, looking for some sort of tag, only to come up empty. Confused but not at all upset, she couldn't help but smile, sliding the stem through her hair and fixing it into place above her ear before she slipped from the soft comfort of her bed and moved to get ready for the day.

The twins were already in the common room when she arrived, all but tripping down the steps in her haste to greet them. She spotted Harry and Ron wandering through the portrait hole as she descended, but didn't have time to shout a greeting before they disappeared.

"Merry Christmas!" she cheered happily, beaming at the twins so brightly that they had to look away, practically blinded by her enthusiasm. She leapt on them, arms winding around each of their necks and yanking them to her in a warm, if not slightly too tight, embrace.

The pair laughed, patting her on the back affectionately.

"I love my new sketchbook!" she told them, voice loud as she was perched right beside their ears. Finally she pulled back, grinning at them brightly.

"It was all Freddie's idea," George boasted, slapping his brother on the back as he beamed cheekily. Fred's grin remained firmly in place, although his ears seemed to turn a faint red. "The book of Muggle card tricks you got me is brilliant!" George continued smoothly, doing his twin a favour and moving the focus onto himself, grinning at Winona enthusiastically. "I can't wait to learn some! I flicked through it already, and it's full of the sort of thing we'd have in the shop."

"I thought you might consider it research," she joked, poking him in the stomach and flashing her tongue teasingly.

"You'll have to drag Fred kicking and screaming away from his Sea Monkeys," George told her.

Fred lit up. "I've never had a pet before," he said eagerly. "I mean, there's the ghoul in our attic back home, but I don't think that really counts."

"Winona?" Hermione's quiet voice spoke up from the stairs, and the blonde turned away from Fred's wide smile, her grey eyes resting on the bookworm's expression, pulled down in something like worry. "Can I speak with you for a minute?" she asked warily, eyes flickering from the older girl to the Weasley twins.

"I'll meet you at lunch?" Winona offered. The pair hummed in agreement, shooting her matching grins and wandering towards the portrait hole, talking amongst themselves about their new gifts. "What's up?" Winona asked Hermione curiously, making her way over to the stairs where the younger witch stood, a wary look in her warm brown eyes.

"I have a...moral dilemma," Hermione began, glancing around the empty common room like she was afraid somebody might appear to try and eavesdrop on their conversation.

"...Okay," Winona nodded, turning and gesturing for Hermione to follow her from the Tower, leading her over to the portrait hole. "And you need a soundboard, as it were, for this dilemma?" Hermione nodded. "Why me?"

"Well..." she trailed off, looking awkward. "You're really my only other friend here, besides Harry and Ron," she murmured with a small flush to her cheeks. Winona thought that was rather sad, to be considered her friend when they rarely ever spoke, and most of the time it was passive-aggressive remarks about her 'wishy-washy ability' or 'horrendous study habits and obvious lazy-streak'.

"How can I help?" she asked quietly, rather than voice any of these thoughts. She wasn't one to kick a girl when she was down.

"Harry received a gift this morning," Hermione began, and Winona couldn't help but snort.

"Not at all out of the ordinary. It's _Christmas_, Hermione."

The bookworm gave an irritated huff. "I know that," she said impatiently, and Winona felt a little guilty. Obviously whatever was on the third year's mind was affecting her, and she was being anything but helpful.

"Sorry," she apologised gently. "Go on," she encouraged as they descended the first of many flights of stairs, gripping onto the railing as the staircase began to shift.

"Harry received a broom this morning," she began again. "A good one – well, the best one, apparently."

Winona's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You don't mean a Firebolt?" she asked with bated breath. While not a Quidditch player, one of Winona's favourite things to do was fly – and having Quidditch fanatics as best friends, she was more than up to date on the latest in the world of the sport.

"Yes," Hermione was frowning like this wasn't brilliant news.

"Do you think he'd let me have a go?" she asked eagerly, and Hermione shot her another irritated scowl. "Right," she mumbled. "Off topic. Continue."

"There was no note with it, you see," the younger girl told her in a rush, ignoring one of the portraits as they said a soft warning about Peeves. "And I'm rather concerned it might be from…well, Sirius Black."

Winona hummed thoughtfully. "You know that Black's after Harry, then?" She'd suspected as much, after all, Harry and her were rather alike – there wasn't anything they wouldn't tell their closest friends.

"Did you learn that from a vision?" Hermione sounded vaguely impressed, and it almost hurt to have to ruin it.

"This time my source was slightly less mysterious," she admitted as they rounded another corner, setting off down another large flight of stairs, her hand sliding against the marble railing. "Harry told me. So, you're worried that Black has, what? Cursed the broom or something?"

"I can't get the thought out of my head."

"Surely there are easier ways to go about offing Harry," Winona commented callously. "A Firebolt would set a wizard back at _least_ a couple hundred Galleons. Why use an item so expensive?"

Hermione pursed her lips, arms crossed over her chest defensively. "He's criminally insane, Winona."

She sighed, already tired. "So, what's the real dilemma here?" she asked, noting they were getting closer to the Great Hall.

"I think I should tell Professor McGonagall," she murmured quietly, a look of reluctant remorse on her face.

"But she'll confiscate it and strip it to _pieces_ looking for jinxes," Winona argued immediately. What if they didn't put it back together right, and whoever bought it had wasted all that money for nothing?

"Isn't that a better alternative to Harry getting hurt?" Hermione countered, coming to a stop outside the Great Hall and keeping her voice quiet so they didn't attract the attention of the group within.

Winona sighed, knowing she was absolutely right. "It's your call, Hermione," she said softly. "But if you decide to squeal, you know the boys will be less than pleased."

Hermione looked vaguely sick at the thought. "I know."

"Come on," Winona prompted her, nudging her gently in the shoulder and beginning to push her in the direction of the Hall. "I'm starved," she said, but the girl's frown remained. "You'll do the right thing, 'Mione," she assured her. "You always do."

Hermione attempted a smile as they slid into the empty seats at the single large table that had replaced the usual House Tables.

Winona ended up beside Snape, who sent her a disgusted sneer, and as she glanced over to the twins, she spotted them stifling laughter at her reluctant grimace. When she was sure nobody was looking, she flipped them off, making George choke on his pumpkin juice.

They sat around eating for nearly two hours, and by the time they were wandering from the Great Hall, it was beginning to grow dark. They were full from the feast, and all Winona wanted to do was curl up in front of the fire and sketch. The twins, however, were bounding with energy.

"Go," she prompted them when their whispering and bouncing legs got to be too much to handle, watching them where they were perched at a table by the window, halfheartedly engaged in a game of Exploding Snap.

"What?" they asked as one, blinking back at her innocently.

"Go borrow sweets from Honeydukes or firewhisky from the Three Broomsticks, or whatever it is the pair of you want to do," she said, rolling her eyes. Surely they knew how well she knew them by now. "Bring me back a butterbeer, would you?" she added, turning back to her artwork, charcoal coating her fingertips as she used them to smooth the black substance across her paper, the lines forming a winding system of tree roots penetrating a hollow ground.

A beat later there were a set of lips pressed to each cheek, and the twins pulled away with loud, comical smacks, the one on the left reaching up to ruffle her hair playfully. She reached up, jokingly rubbing at her moist cheeks. "You're a gem, you know that?" she heard George say, but she didn't bother removing her eyes from her work.

"I could stand to be reminded every now and again," she murmured distractedly, wondering what the piece in her lap was missing – because it wasn't quite _right_ yet.

"We'll be back soon," Fred said from behind her, but she barely paid them a lick of attention as they stealthily pulled on their winter coats and scarves. The portrait door opened and closed, and Winona decided her sketch needed some colour, so she tucked her new sketchbook under her arm and set off up the stairs.

Her coloured pencils were easy to locate, and her bed looked so warm and inviting that she couldn't help but tug on her fluffy socks and burrow under her covers, pulling her utensils into her lap and beginning to do what she did best.

It had to have been nearly an hour later that she heard the yelling from downstairs. There wasn't anyone left in the Tower other than her and the 'Golden Trio', so she knew instantly who it was.

Ron and Hermione got into screaming matches quite often, so it wasn't too concerning, only this time she could hear Harry's voice joining the shouting. Concerned, Winona laid her book and pencils on her bed and hurried down the stairs, toppling into the common room to see all three third years with furious glares on their faces, cheeks flushed a dark, angry red.

"You had no right to run to McGonagall!" Ron was shouting in a rage.

"It isn't even _your_ broom, Ron! It's Harry's!" Hermione yelled back shrilly.

"What if he never gets it back?!" Ron argued loudly. "What if it gets stripped to pieces and never works right again?!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Hermione scoffed, eyes wet with tears.

"No Hermione, _you're _being ridiculous!" Harry countered angrily, and Hermione sniffled sadly.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe," she told him with a wobbling lip. Harry looked surprised, but Ron opened his mouth to shout some more, and that was when Winona decided to intervene.

"All right, children," she began, stepping from the stairs and into the common room, sliding into place beside Hermione, a subtle but protective arm wrapping around her shoulders. "Let's play nice," she said with a hint of condescension. Ron's jaw clicked in anger.

"Do you have any idea what she's done?" he demanded furiously, as though Hermione had committed some punishable offence, glaring at her fiercely. And that just wouldn't do.

"Yeah," Winona nodded, chin tilted up defiantly. "I'm the one who encouraged her to do it."

"You _what_?" Ron shouted, face turning an even darker red in his rage.

"Oh, shut up," she rolled her eyes, squeezing Hermione tighter when she sniffled. "We're doing what's best for Harry. Stop getting so touchy about a broom. He'll get it back in one piece, with the added benefit of _not dying._"

"You can't just-" the indignant Weasley tried to argue, but Winona wasn't having any of it.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but we're doing what we think is necessary to keep you safe," she said to the Boy-Wonder, whose expression was pulled down into a deep frown. "Ron, when you decide to pull your head out of your arse, come find us," she said, using the arm around Hermione's shoulders to pull her towards the stairs.

"That's not – you can't – I'm not –" Ron failed to string together an intelligent response.

"Don't hurt yourself, Weasley!" Winona called lazily over her shoulder, and the boy gave an affronted huff as they disappeared around the corner. Winona was quick to lead Hermione into the fifth year girls' dorm, but the brunette barely noticed, wiping at her eyes embarrassedly. "You okay?" she asked the younger girl who was tugging shyly on the sleeves of her jumper. "You did the right thing."

"I don't feel like I did," Hermione mumbled sadly.

"Don't listen to the terrible twosome," she told her cheerfully. "They'll get over it soon enough."

"Would you do the same?" Hermione asked quietly, warm brown eyes blinking up at her curiously. "If it were Fred or George?"

"Without hesitation," Winona answered instantly, and Hermione's shoulders seemed to drop in relief. The blonde wandered over to her bed, taking a seat on the edge and curling her legs underneath herself in a practised move. She patted the end of the bed, and Hermione, who was stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, shuffled forwards. "You like chocolate?" she asked the girl, and although bemused by the sudden question, Hermione nodded.

Winona leaned over to her bedside table, picking up her wand and quickly casting an unlocking charm on her drawer, reaching in and picking out a box filled with a mix of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldrons that she'd collected over the last few months.

She offered a Cauldron to Hermione, who looked at it warily before taking it, delicately tearing the wrapping and nibbling on a corner. "It's not going to bite you back," Winona laughed, picking one out for herself and biting into it with gusto.

"My parents are dentists," Hermione revealed, a polite hand covering her mouth as she spoke.

"Ah," Winona suddenly understood. "Ingrained hesitance of sweets?" she asked amusedly, and Hermione nodded with something of a tiny smile. "Really, 'Mione," Winona said again, catching the dejected girl's eyes. "It'll be okay. You know how Ron gets."

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, holding her treat in two hands. She didn't look like she completely agreed, like she thought she'd gone too far this time. Winona opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a wholly welcome voice.

"Oh fair maiden!" Fred's called out to her from down in the common room. Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Winona just rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I have arrived with tokens of my affection!"

"I'll be right back," Winona told Hermione. She slid to her feet, heading quickly over to the door and tumbling down the stairs, trying not to slip in her fuzzy socks. Fred and George stood in the common room, a small handful of chocolate frogs in the latter's hand, while the former held a jug of butterbeer. "You stole a jug?" she laughed, and the pair grinned wickedly.

"Borrowed," Fred corrected slyly.

"Consider it a Christmas gift," George added, and she laughed as she took the jug from his hands and shoved the Frogs into her pocket.

"Thanks you two," she said brightly, lifting her free hand to blow them a kiss. "I've gotta go, I've got a young witch to comfort," she added. While they were bemused by the excuse, they didn't argue. "Happy Christmas!" she told them cheerfully, tossing them a wide grin over her shoulder before disappearing back up the staircase.

She bounced back into her dorm, spying Hermione gently leafing through one of her old sketchbooks. At her abrupt appearance, the third year jump, flinching away like she'd gotten caught doing something she shouldn't have. True, it was probably rude to peruse through something that didn't belong to you, but Winona had never minded anyone looking at her work – when it wasn't one of her predictions, at least.

"Don't worry about it, 'Mione," Winona told the girl calmly, tossing her a smile as she took a seat in her vacated place. "Butterbeer?" she offered, holding up the metal jug enticingly.

"Where in Merlin's name did you get _butterbeer_?" Hermione asked shrilly, a disapproving look on her face.

Winona rolled her eyes. "Come _on,_ Granger," she said with a humph. "Where's your Christmas spirit?"

Hermione pursed her lips, and Winona knew it went against her DNA or something to let it go, but eventually she sighed and nodded, though refused to take a sip when Winona offered again.

"You're really good friends with the twins," Hermione began as they dug further into their Christmas supper of sweets.

"Noticed, did you?" Winona teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How did you meet them?" she asked curiously.

"Hogwart's Express, first year," she replied, smiling fondly at the memory. "Some Slytherin bully was trying to turn them into minced meat, so I punched him in the nose, and ever since we've been friends."

Hermione's spine went straight. "You _punched_ someone?"

"Yup," she replied, fishing out a Sugar Quill from her stash and beginning to suck on the end.

"Winnie," she tutted in disapproval.

Winona only laughed. "I know, violent tendencies, anger issues, I've heard it all," she drawled.

Hermione's stern expression wavered. "Well, I suppose you were doing it for the right reasons..." she relented. "But why did you _stay _friends?"

That gave Winona pause. "You know how sometimes in life, you have that _person_?" she tried to explain. "Someone you meet, and in no time at all they just become _your person_?" Hermione frowned, contemplating the response. "Fred and George are my people," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders, as if to say 'simple as that'.

"That sounds nice," Hermione murmured thoughtfully, nibbling slowly away at a chocolate frog.

"You have people, too," Winona told her, and she looked up in surprise. "Harry and Ron."

Hermione smiled, the expression grim. "I don't think they are anymore."

"Don't be silly," Winona chided her gently. "People fight, it's what people do. They'll forgive you – forgive us _both_ – eventually. Besides, it's one of the pitfalls of your people being boys," she whispered like she were letting her in on a secret. "They're kinda stupid."

Hermione laughed, hand delicately covering her mouth. Winona laughed with her, the sound bright and unbothered.

Hermione wasn't so bad, Winona discovered as they chatted some more, nibbling on chocolate and chuckling about their boys being total idiots. They may not have seen eye to eye on a lot of things, but, as Winona was beginning to realise, they had things in common – particularly their choice in friends. If there was one thing that could unite them, it was the hoard of Weasley boys and one Harry James Potter.

* * *

Winona woke up the day after Christmas to a peaceful silence that she relished in.

She moved over to her dresser, pulling out her favourite track pants and one of her old Weasley sweaters before moving to the bathroom for a steaming hot shower. The water felt heavenly against her skin, and once she'd felt she'd procrastinated enough she stepped out, drying quickly and dressing in her clean, warm clothes.

Winona wasn't the most studious of students to ever grace the halls of the ancient castle, and it was known to all that she'd much rather hide away on a bench somewhere in the castle, staining her hands with shining graphite and smeared charcoal. But she _was _still a student, and as much as she hated it, she knew she had to spend _some _time working on actual, proper homework.

She'd been falling behind in Transfiguration. Well, that along with Potions, History of Magic and Herbology, but she figured putting her energy into the one she was most in danger of failing was best. OWLs were only half a year away, and if she didn't get her grades up and start to get a better understanding of the theory, it was possible she wouldn't pass.

There was also the fact that she liked Professor McGonagall, and the last thing she wanted was for the stern old witch to be disappointed in her.

So, it was with great reluctance that Winona picked up her book bag and trudged down to the common room, nodding politely at Ron and Harry, who were talking in hushed whispers over a game of chess, before striding out the portrait hole and down the hall, heading in the direction of the library.

McGonagall had given her an extra-credit assignment to work on over the holiday, knowing that she was staying at the school. She only had until the start of the next term to get it done and, once again, she'd left it until only a few short days until classes restarted to even begin.

She had a _serious_ procrastination problem.

Winona stepped into the library, glancing warily at the ceiling-high shelves that were bursting with thick tomes, some leaning precariously on the edge, just threatening to fall on some poor, unsuspecting student's head.

She made her way over to a table by the window, taking a moment to peer out the glass at the falling snow before setting her things down and beginning to move through the isles, searching for the books McGonagall had suggested she use as references.

A half hour later she was holed up in a seat down a hidden isle, opened books sprawled across the table, quill sitting wonkily in the ink bottle, only her eyes were out the window and she was lost in a daydream, the very opposite of getting her work done.

"You look hard at work," a familiar voice commented. Winona started, whirling around to stare up at the newcomer, Jeremiah Nott, with wide eyes. Once she realised who it was she relaxed, rolling her eyes before glancing down at her parchment, wincing as she realised that in a whole half hour she'd only managed to scribble down a heading. "Didn't take you for the studious type. Suppose I was right."

"Ha ha," she responded flatly, less than amused and completely exhausted already, something that didn't bode well for the fate of her essay. "What're you doing here, Nott?"

"I came to hire out a book that Snape suggested to help study for OWLs," he told her easily, but she honestly wasn't interested, turning her attention back to the bare parchment on the table, scowling as it seemed to mock her with its blankness. "Which class is this for?" the Slytherin asked conversationally, taking an uninvited seat in the chair opposite her.

Deciding not to argue, Winona sighed, tapping her dry quill against the tabletop. "Transfiguration," she mumbled. "If this essay isn't absolutely perfect, I'm walking away with a Dreadful for the year, not to mention my OWLs."

"A Dreadful?" he asked in surprise. "Really?"

"Studying has never really been my strongpoint," she admitted wearily, resting her chin in her palm, her elbow digging into the wooden desktop.

"I could give you a hand," the Slytherin offered, and Winona hummed noncommittally before properly processing what he'd said.

"Sorry, what?" she asked, blinking her grey eyes across at him in bewilderment. "I could have _sworn_ you just offered to help me _study_."

Nott began to look irritated. "Well, if you don't want my help-"

"I never said that!"

She wasn't sure why she said _that_, pressing her lips together uncomfortably and frowning. Nott wasn't that bad, at least for a Slytherin, and she didn't exactly have people lining up to help her get on top of her grades. All of her friends knew how horrible she was to study with, complaining the whole time and rarely ever making any headway.

She cocked her head, observing the Slytherin cautiously. He stared back, near-black eyes focused on her, staring at her like he could read her every thought. It made her kind of uncomfortable, like she was naked in front of him with nothing to cover herself with. At the same time, however, it was intriguing. Where did his confidence come from?

"What are you working on?" he asked, jolting her from her thoughts.

She paused, gathering her wits and turning her attention to her blank parchment. "I've got to do a foot on Vanishing Spells," she told him, drumming her fingers anxiously against the desk.

"Easy," he nodded once, pulling one of her chosen books closer to him and cracking it open. She watched him closely, wondering if it was all some kind of elaborate ruse. He seemed genuine enough, and, after all, what harm could spending a little time with Jeremiah Nott _really_ do?

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed. Within the next few chapters I'm going to be upping the rating to 'M', because of the content we're beginning to wade into. Hope you're ready for some _drama._ **

**Also, to those of you who mentioned stretching the years out further than I am now – in the future the 'years' or 'books' if you will, will take many more chapters to complete. The duration of Goblet of Fire, for instance, is well over twenty chapters. Hope you guys stick with me, I've got biiiig things coming.**


	24. You're going red

The holidays passed and before Winona knew it, everyone was arriving back at school. The Gryffindor Tower was once again full to the brim with students, and all the peace and quiet of the common room was gone, leaving her to wander the school in search of that beautiful silence.

Classes started up again, but Fred and George were working tirelessly on their inventions, holed up in their dormitory more often than not with dangerous ingredients and harmful charms. Angelina kept tutting, saying they should have been more focused on OWLs, but neither listened, blatantly ignoring her in favour of their work.

Winona encouraged them, taking up her usual spot upon Fred's bed, telling them not to worry about Angelina's negativity. "I just wish she'd stop with the snide comments," Fred mumbled from where he was leant over his cauldron, the pink potion within bubbling madly.

"She's _your _girlfriend," Winona rolled her eyes, and Fred shot upright, indignant.

"She is _not_," he cried defensively.

"And she never _will_ be if you don't actually grow a pair and ask her out," Winona replied evenly, and Fred shot her a twisted kind of grimace.

"She's right, mate," George spoke up from the floor, where he was carefully shredding Mandrake leaves. "You two have been dancing around it all year," he said without looking up from his task.

And it was true; the two of her friends had been eyeing one another ever since Angelina had told Winona that she liked Fred, and Winona had told Fred that Angelina liked him. She wasn't a fan of the drama, so she'd been hoping something would come of it, but instead, all that had been happening was Angelina doing her best to flirt with Fred, and Fred cracking slightly over-enthusiastic joked in response, which Winona took as Fred's weak attempts at flirtation.

It had been a tiresome few weeks.

"I'll make a move when I'm good and ready," Fred mumbled, sounding particularly sour about it.

Winona cast a look down at George at the same time as he looked up at her, and the pair of them smirked. "What's the time?" she asked the room aloud, and Fred looked over at the clock, telling her it was mid-evening. "I've gotta go," she sighed, rolling off Fred's ridiculously comfortable bed (seriously, shouldn't all the school beds have been the same?) and dropping onto her feet, slowly collecting her things and pushing them down into her bag.

"Where're you off to?" Fred asked, one eye cocked in her direction.

"Told Hermione I'd study with her in the common room."

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with the young third year, lately," George mentioned, climbing to his feet and moving over to their potion, gently tipping the shredded leaves into the bubbling pink brew, causing it to turn a desert orange.

"Harry and Ron still aren't talking to her," she revealed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and reaching down to wrestle her shoes back on. "I mean, I get that they're angry, I would be too – it's a bloody _Firebolt _for Merlin's sake – but the longer this goes on, the more childish they look."

"They're only thirteen, Win," Fred reminded her as he stirred their potion. "Their hormones are all over the place."

Winona paused. "I don't even know where to _begin_ with that comment."

"Best to just not reply," George nodded, moving over to the textbook and scanning the lines of tedious instructions.

"I'll see you goblins later," she told them in farewell. In the common room, she quickly spied Hermione sitting at the table by the fire, her books spread out, covering the entire tabletop. Winona dropped into place on the couch beside her and plopped her bag on the rug.

Hermione glanced up, a look of hope on her face that melted into disappointment when she saw it was only her. "Oh, hey, Winona," she greeted her in an unenthusiastic mumble, going back to her essay on the Witch Hunts of the fourteenth century due in Binns' class later that week.

"Lovely to see you too, 'Mione," Winona rolled her eyes. Hermione looked up, having the decency to look at least a little ashamed.

"Sorry," she apologised, eyes glassy.

"They still haven't come round, huh?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"You haven't…you haven't _seen_ when they'll talk to me again, have you?" Hermione asked slowly, barely seeming to be able to force the words out. Winona blinked at her in surprise; it was a dark day when Hermione Granger asked for advice based on her _visions._

"I haven't," she answered once she'd recovered. Hermione sagged with disappointment. "But I'm sure they'll break soon enough," she added in her most optimistic voice.

Hermione wasn't convinced. She frowned into her book, eyes shining even as she pretended to be totally consumed by the text in front of her. Winona sighed and pulled out her own textbook, halfheartedly getting to work on an essay on the Giant Wars that was due in less than two days.

"Winona?" Hermione spoke up a few minutes later, just as Winona was about ready to hex her textbook in her frustration.

"Hm?"

"Do you think there's anything…odd, about Professor Lupin?" the young witch asked, hesitant.

Confused by the question, Winona looked up, frowning in bewilderment. "…Like what?"

"Well, that he's sick all the time, for one thing," Hermione began, setting aside her textbook, focusing her full attention on the conversation. "And all those potions that Snape brews him, that he willingly takes? All the scars littering his face? And what about his Boggart? Surely you heard it was a silvery orb, and-"

"Hermione, stop-"

"I'm serious, Winnie, there's something I need to-"

"No, I mean _stop_-" Winona hissed, but that was all she could get out before the vision slammed into her with all the force of a tsunami. Lost in the swell, Winona could do no more than watch as her physical body melted away and she was left with nothing but weightless floating, blind except for the images flashing across her vision like fierce strikes of lightening. From all around her there was a kind of terrifying, animalistic snarling, like an unbridled beast preparing to attack.

She came out of it with a gasp, feeling a comforting weight in her hands and the press of the couch against her legs.

She turned, shaking, to see Hermione still sat beside her, eyes wide with shock.

"Did anyone-?" Winona began to ask, whirling around to get a good look at the room, even though the sudden movement made her feel dizzy.

"Nobody noticed," Hermione assured her. "I got your sketchbook out in time," she added, and Winona realised the weight in her hands was her sketchbook – the new, endless one that the twins had given her for Christmas. "I'm sorry," Hermione apologised guiltily.

"For what?" she asked, breathing deep in an effort to calm her racing heart.

"I think it was my fault that you went into that vision."

"What? No, 'Mione, it doesn't work that way-" Winona tried to say.

"Look at what you drew," Hermione interjected and, frowning, Winona looked down at her sketch. It was a sketch in three stages, the first being a haggard looking Professor Lupin, the last being a massive, snarling werewolf, and the one in the middle a grotesque combination of both.

"Shit," Winona hissed, slamming her sketchbook closed as if to protect the drawing from beady eyes. "I've gotta go to Dumbledore," she said, more so to herself, as she clamoured to her feet.

"Winona, wait – it's past curfew, you can't go wandering the castle alone!"

Although the panic was welling in her get like water, Winona still had it in her to lean close to the young witch. "Being the Seer in Dumbledore's pocket has its perks."

Hermione still didn't look pleased, but she also didn't argue as Winona turned to leave.

"If anyone asks, I'm in detention," she told Hermione quickly. "Except the twins, tell them I'm with Dumbledore."

Hermione only continued to frown, but still nodded her head as Winona shot her a grateful look, spinning around and making a beeline for the portrait hole. The castle was quiet, not even so much as a mouse stirring on her walk to the Headmaster's office. The portraits were all fast asleep, snoring gently as she passed.

"Acid Pops," she said to the gargoyle, which leapt aside at the correct password. She took the stairs two at a time, bursting onto the landing and rushing to the massive double doors. Dumbledore's rumbling voice told her to enter and she heaved it open, slipping inside as it shut with a note of ringing finality. There was no turning back.

"What can I do for you, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster asked pleasantly, adorned in bottle green robes with little gold crescent moons covering the arms. His beard was tied up with a thin cord, and he had a little cap sitting atop his snowy white hair.

"I drew something that you need to see immediately, Professor," she said without preamble, striding forwards until her hips hit the edge of the large golden painted desk. She yanked her sketchbook from her bag and flicked it open, setting it down in front of the Headmaster with a sharp exhale.

Dumbledore stared down at the drawing of Professor Lupin turning into a werewolf. She couldn't see his eyes from the way his head was angled, so she had no idea how he was reacting, which only served to unnerve her.

"Don't you understand, sir?" she asked when nothing happened. "Professor Lupin is a _werewolf,_" she said it plainly, just in case he didn't get it. "_That's_ why he misses class so often; _that's_ why he's covered in scars; _that's_ why his Boggart is a full moon!"

Dumbledore slowly sat back in his seat, pushing the sketchbook away from himself and closer to her. He looked up, and there was an expression of utter impassivity on his face. Why wasn't he panicking? He'd hired a _werewolf_ as a _teacher_. "Have you told anyone of this?" he asked, his voice carefully measured.

Winona opened her mouth to say that Hermione knew too, because her ramblings from before made sense now, but instead what came out was, "no, sir."

She wasn't sure why she lied, but she felt like it was important to do so. And she knew by now to listen to the voice in her head that knew things which hadn't yet come to be.

The Headmaster nodded his head, the look in his twinkling blue eyes was thoughtful. "Please, have a seat," he said cordially, sweeping a hand in the direction of her usual chair.

Wary and confused, Winona lowered herself onto the plush red, cushioned seat.

"Winona," he began, and with his casual use of her first name, she knew she was in for a long night. "I am completely aware of Professor Lupin's condition," he said slowly, watching her carefully, gauging her reaction.

"Oh," she said, rather dumbly.

"He is of no harm to you, or any of the other students in this castle," he told her, his voice steady and even, making sure she was following. "What do you know of werewolves?"

"Only what Quirrell taught us in third year," she replied, her own voice sort of hollow in comparison. "That they're vicious, savage creatures, who will stop at nothing to crack open your ribs and feast on your heart."

Dumbledore looked contemplative. "These are not your own words," he said with the utmost patience.

At that she had to agree. "You're right, they're not my own words – but that doesn't mean they aren't true."

"Tell me, Winona, do you believe Professor Lupin is capable of doing these things?"

Winona fell silent and pensive, considering the question. _Did_ she think Lupin could do such a thing? She thought of his soft voice, of his patient temperament, of his kind eyes and the laugh lines around them – proof he had a youth filled by laughter – and the myriad of knitted jumpers he liked to wear, all of which made him look about as threatening as a koala bear.

She knew, deep in her gut, the same way she knew everything, that Professor Lupin was _not _the monster she'd immediately – and ashamedly – assumed him to be.

"Professor Lupin cannot change _what_ he is, but as such, his affliction cannot change _who_ he is," Dumbledore said wisely, giving her more than enough food for thought. "I urge you not to tell anybody of what you've learned," he said patiently. "Not even Fred or George Weasley."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the Headmaster raised a hand to stop her, and she fell obediently silent.

"It is Professor Lupin's wish that nobody but the faculty in this castle know of his affliction," he told her in his gentle, rumbling voice. "The fact that you are now aware of it is beyond anybody's control. But what we _can _control is who else finds out. Do you understand, Winona?"

"I understand, sir."

"And I must _urge_ you not to treat your Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor any differently," he said slowly but imploringly. "He is still the same man he was yesterday."

Winona wasn't sure if this was advice she could follow, but nodded nonetheless, shifting in her seat, unsure how to proceed.

"Would it help you to discuss the matter directly with Professor Lupin?" Dumbledore offered.

"Oh, that's not necessary-"

"Dippy!"

There was a sudden pop and Nobby the house elf appeared next in the Headmaster's glowing hearth. Winona stared at him in surprise. "Headmaster," Dippy squeaked, tennis-ball eyes round as he stared at them. "How may Dippy help tonight?"

"Would you mind fetching Professor Lupin for me, please," said Dumbledore gently.

Dippy looked thrilled to have been given such a task. "Certainly, sir."

With another faint pop he disappeared. Winona stared at the place he'd just been stood. "Professor," she said, heart racing in her chest. "I really don't need to speak with Lupin-"

"On the contrary," Dumbledore argued patiently, "I think speaking with him directly will help ease your concerns."

Winona didn't agree, and honestly, the thought of coming face to face with a werewolf without the buffer of her entire Defence Against the Dark Arts class was more than a little daunting. But Dumbledore was there, so how dangerous could it be, really?

"But he'll ask how I found out-"

"I trust Professor Lupin with me life," Dumbledore assured her, holding up a hand as if to silence her arguments. "If there's anybody in this castle who can be trusted with _your_ secret, it's him."

Winona had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but then there was a gentle knocking at the door to the Headmaster's office, interrupting anything she could have thought to ask. Dumbledore called for him to enter and Lupin slipped into the room with casual confidence, only to come to an abrupt stop when he realised the Headmaster wasn't alone, and the person sitting opposite him was Winona.

"Headmaster," said Lupin mildly, shutting the door behind him and walking warily towards them. "Miss…er, Andrews. Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine, Remus," Dumbledore assured him. He swept a hand and a chair across the room floated into place beside the one Winona was occupying, setting down on the rug below with a muted thud. "Please, take a seat."

Looking about as wary as Winona felt, Lupin settled into place in the cushioned chair.

"I won't, as they say, beat around the Boggart," Dumbledore began once they were all settled. "As of tonight, Winona knows you're a werewolf."

Lupin went a truly concerning shade of white. He turned to look at her with eyes as round as the full moon itself. "You remember?" he whispered.

Frowning at him, her pulse thundering in her chest, Winona had no good answer. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Considering the circumstances, I've decided it pertinent that you be told of Winona's precognitive abilities."

Nobody spoke for a long few moments. "Precognitive abilities?" Lupin finally demanded. His hazel eyes flickered between the both of them as if he couldn't make his mind up on who to look at more. "Are you saying she's a _Seer_?" he asked, voice an octave away from casual.

"_She_ is sitting right here," Winona snapped impatiently.

Lupin had the decency to look a little ashamed. "My apologies," he said quietly, and she was surprised by how much he seemed to mean it. "You're a Seer?"

"Yes," she confessed, hoping neither of them could hear the tremor in her voice.

"As you can imagine, Remus," Dumbledore said in his usual rumbling tone, "were this information to end up in the wrong hands-"

"Of course," said Lupin immediately. "I'll never tell a soul." He turned back to Winona, the look in his eyes grave. "And, you know about _me _because of this gifting?" he asked, and Winona realised she wasn't the only one with a tremor in her voice.

Slowly, she opened the flap of her bag and pulled out the sketchbook. It flipped open to the correct page as if knowing what she needed, and she passed it over to him. "I drew this," she told him quietly.

Lupin took the sketchbook, staring down at the page without saying a word.

"Dumbledore tells me you're a…good werewolf?" Winona asked, and the moment the stupid words were out of her mouth she wanted to reach out and catch them in the air to stop them reaching his ears. But even with all the magic she had at her fingertips, it was impossible.

Lupin couldn't quite muster a smile. He kept his eyes on her drawing, but she got the feeling he wasn't really _looking_ at it.

"It's not quite so black and white," he murmured, almost to himself.

Winona hesitated. "But I don't have to be afraid of you?"

At that he finally looked up. There was a glint to his eyes that Winona might have described as haunted. "You _never_ have to be afraid of me, Winnie," he said, using her nickname with such confidence that it was like he'd used it a million times before.

The vehemence with which he spoke took her aback, and she shifted in her seat, staring at him intently. He seemed to realise he was coming across a bit intense, even if she had no idea why.

"But if you'd prefer I not teach here…" he trailed off, looking so unbearably accepting that it made Winona angry. Why should he have to lie down and take it? Why did he have to be discriminated against?

"Are you kidding? You're pretty much the best Defence teacher we've ever had."

Lupin looked surprised by the strength of her answer. "Well," he began, a hint of a smile playing at his mouth as he handed her back her sketchbook and the incriminating evidence that remained hidden within, "considering your teachers in past have included an author of questionable merit and a man with You-Know-Who on the back of his head, I'd think the bar isn't truly very high."

Laughter bubbled out of Winona before she could think to stop it. Lifting a hand to cover her mouth, she stared at Lupin in surprise. He smiled almost with relief, like it were a sound he'd been waiting to hear for a very long time indeed.

"You just want to be treated like normal, don't you?" she asked. He blinked, stunned by the unexpected words. "You just want to go about being a teacher – not live your life with the label of _werewolf_ threatening to drown you entirely."

Lupin didn't answer, but he didn't really need to.

"Don't worry, Professor," she assured him with a hint of an impish grin. "I won't tell anyone about your _furry little problem_."

Now Lupin's silence wasn't so much from surprise as it was from deep-seated shock. He stared at her in warring surprise and pain, and she got the feeling she'd said something wrong.

"Sorry," she apologised quickly. "Is that not politically correct? I'm not exactly familiar with the proper terminology."

"It's fine," Lupin croaked unconvincingly.

"It's getting late, Winona. You should head back up to your dorm," Dumbledore spoke with a note of finality. Looking away from a stunned Lupin, Winona nodded her head and climbed to her feet. The headmaster tapped his long, elegant wand against her sketchbook, and an exact copy of her drawing shimmered into existence beside it. She took her most prized possession back, gently returning it to the depths of her old, worn messenger bag, where she knew it would be safe.

"Goodnight, sir," she said distantly, left feeling oddly numb from the encounter. She had more questions now than when she'd walked into the office, but that wasn't unusual of a meeting with Dumbledore. But the way Lupin stared at her – that was entirely foreign.

"Pleasant dreaming," Dumbledore bid her gently. Lupin stood to his feet along with her. "Remus, if you'd be so kind as to stay," said Dumbledore quickly. "There are a few more things I wish to discuss with you."

Reluctantly, Lupin sat back down in his chair, and with a final glance at the both of them, Winona left the room without looking back.

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the new year was upon them but Winona had lost track of time, and was humming to herself while she sketched when Fred and George found her, which wasn't at all an uncommon occurrence.

What _was _different, was the _subject_ of her artwork.

"Hey, Win!" one of the twins called, leaping up the stairs to where she sat against the window in one of the castle's many towers. With a gasp she slammed her sketchbook shut, covering the profile sketch she'd been working on of Jeremiah Nott. She shouldn't have been drawing him at all; it felt almost like she was cheating – although on who, she hadn't a clue.

The twins were oblivious to her panic, instead grinning at her excitedly.

"We're gonna be late for the match if you get buried any deeper in the sketchbook of yours," Fred said, lazily leant against the stone wall.

"Yeah, I've got a Sickle and a two Chocolate Frogs on Ravenclaw to win," George added jovially, and Winona couldn't help but laugh.

"You actually placed a bet?" she asked, shoving her materials into her bag and climbing to her feet. "What if you lose? That's a Sickle down the drain." She never had been very fond of gambling.

"He's got a thing for the keeper," Fred revealed in a playful whisper.

Winona whirled around to fix George with a wide-eyed stare. "Miranda Marshall?" she asked with her eyebrows hitting her hairline.

"She's got a fine set of legs," George shrugged, making the other two snort with amusement.

"You're such a guy," she told him, and though he wagged his eyebrows jokingly, she didn't doubt his sincerity for a moment.

The game went by quickly for Winona, who barely paid any attention, thoughts elsewhere, as they so often were. She tried to keep her mind from the eldest Nott sibling, but for some reason her thoughts drifted back to him and his stupidly gorgeous, dark brown eyes.

She was jerked back to the present every time one of the twins slammed into her with excitement, shouting in her ear about the goals saved and injuries attained. George was more than a little put out when Slytherin ended up winning, but he couldn't stay mad for long.

The walk back to the castle felt long because of how bitterly cold it had grown, when really it was no longer than usual. Wood had dragged the team together to talk to them in impassioned murmurs about Ravenclaw's tactics and how Slytherin's win was good news for them all.

Winona stuck with Lee and Hope, the only of her friends who weren't on the team. Well, Lee was the only one who counted, because Hope had her arm wrapped around Christine Watkins from Hufflepuff, the two of them giggling at one another flirtatiously.

"Really, it's sickening," Lee commented with a grimace, watching as Christine leant in for a chaste kiss, Hope's cheeks flushing bright pink in a way that wasn't from the cold.

"You're only saying that because you're alone and bitter," Winona said, giving her friend a playful shove.

Lee didn't disagree. "Ugh, _couples_," he sneered as they passed two Slytherin seventh years, leant against a wall in the courtyard, playing a vigorous game of tonsil hockey.

"Why don't you get yourself a girl, Lee?" she asked him, dragging him away from where he was grimacing at the embracing pair, making everyone uncomfortable.

"Like who?" he asked grouchily (he, too, had lost money on the match, so she supposed that was where some of the foul mood was coming from).

"You've got a whole school to choose from."

"No, I don't," he argued with another grimace. She cast him a befuddled look. "Well, you've got the Snakes," he said with obvious disdain, and Winona had to nod understandingly. "No way am I going near them. Then there's the Ravenclaws, all of whom are too stuck up to bother attempting pleasant conversation with," he told her judgementally. On this, Winona didn't totally agree, but she remained silent. "And then the Hufflepuffs," he finished with a grim shake of his head, "which speaks for itself."

"So you're saying your only possible option is someone in Gryffindor?" she summarised with a laugh, ignoring his jab at Hufflepuff.

"Well, if we're talking about more than a quick shag, then, yeah."

"_Lee!_" she said shrilly, pushing him to the side again. He let out a laugh that made her roll her eyes.

They got back up to the common room and Winona made a beeline for the fireplace, crouching down in front of it and eagerly warming up her freezing digits with its heat. The common room was slowly filling up, everybody content to chat in its warmth as the sky outside slowly grew dark.

Nobody had schoolwork out; except one.

Hermione sat at the table in the corner, her books completely covering the polished wood, her hand gripping her quill tightly as it moved desperately across the parchment, as though something were chasing it.

Once she was sufficiently thawed out, Winona stood, holding her gloves in one hand as she moved over to the younger witch, who had Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, and mountains upon mountains of notes sprawled out in front of her. She seemed to be splitting her focus between several tasks at once, a pinched expression on her face that didn't look pleasant, like she were trying to hold in some kind of bodily function.

"You all right, 'Mione?" Winona asked carefully, taking a seat on the wooden chair beside her.

The girl flinched at the unexpected question, looking up at Winona with the expression of a startled animal. "Fine," she replied in a very unconvincing, high-pitched sort of voice.

"Divination and Arithmancy?" Winona asked lightly, eyeing all of the books spread out before her. "_And _Care of Magical Creatures, _and _Muggle Studies, _and _Ancient Runes? You know you're typically only meant to choose _two_ electives, right?"

"_Typically,_ yes," Hermione replied primly, her nose in the air in a very Percy-like move.

"Makes one wonder where you get all the _time, _eh?" she said meaningfully. Hermione froze, levelling her head to peer at her in shock. Winona smirked, because did Hermione _really_ think she wouldn't have known? "Just wanna make sure you're taking care of yourself," she added gently, leaning against the back of the chair and smiling at the young witch calmly. "All this work will get to you eventually," she said, but Hermione clammed up again.

"I'm perfectly fine, Winona," said the third year sharply. "Thank you for your concern," she added with something of a scowl before diving back into her work with purpose, refusing to give Winona so much as another lick of attention.

Sighing in defeat, Winona conceded to herself that _maybe _letting on that she knew about the Time-Turner hadn't been the best way to approach the situation. Still, what's done is done, and Winona stood, heading over to the far corner where the twins had just settled, Angelina sitting below them, halfheartedly scribbling a last-minute essay on a piece of parchment.

"Hermione still working herself into the ground?" Alicia commented distractedly, casting the third year in the other corner a cursory glance, rubbing at her still-pink nose. "I don't think she's left that table in a week."

"She's determined," Winona agreed, focusing her attention on the twins. "I'm feeling like indulging in a bit of butterbeer," she told them, the fire only warming her up so much.

"Witch's tunnel?" Fred asked cheerfully, making the others stare between them in confusion. It was code, something only someone who had seen the Map would understand.

"I was thinking kitchens," she replied, deciding that walking through the dark, underground tunnel to get to the Three Broomsticks just for a couple jugs of butterbeer wasn't worth it. She'd much prefer a leisurely stroll down to the kitchens, where she would be greeted by excitable elves and roaring fireplaces that oozed warmth. "Fancy a stroll?" she asked them, but George shook his head.

"If I don't finish the Transfiguration homework by tonight, I'll never get it done!" he exclaimed. "Wood's decided to increase the number of practices to _five_ a _week_!"

"Bummer," Winona replied, briefly wondering if she'd ever even see them outside of class, but George was already muttering to Alicia about Wood's tirade on the way back to the castle, and so she turned her attention to Fred to find him already smiling at her.

"I did the homework during History of Magic, like any _sane_ person would," Fred said, tossing his brother a smirk. "I'll come with you!" he told Winona cheerfully.

"But Fred, I was hoping you could help with my Charms essay," Angelina spoke up, frowning up at him from where she was knelt on the rug, her parchment crinkling under her hand as she leaned her weight against it.

Fred suddenly looked exceedingly awkward, and he glanced at Winona uncomfortably, torn. "Don't worry about it," Winona told him with an extremely pointed glance down at Angelina. Fred nodded once, eyes narrowed in consternation that she ignored. "How many of you want some butterbeer?" she asked the others quickly.

There was a general answer of playful "Aye's", and she grinned, collecting her bag and threading it over her shoulder.

Winona wandered over to the portrait hole, pausing before opening it and glancing back at her friends, all of whom were absorbed in each other, laughing about something or other (probably something one of the twins had said). They looked happy.

Her eyes wandered down to Fred, who was now sitting on the ground with Angelina. He was grinning at the dark beauty cheekily, and she had her head thrown back as she laughed, an unmistakeable twinkle in her chocolate eyes.

A strange sensation rolled within Winona's gut, like a fish was on a rollercoaster in her stomach. The thought crossed her mind that she wanted Fred to be making _her_ laugh, and heading down to the kitchens with_ her,_ not sitting up here entertaining _Angelina._ She quickly looked away, forcing herself to clamour through the portrait hole and out into the darkened corridor.

"Turn and face me, you scurvy mongrel!" Sir Cadogan cried offensively from his portrait as it swung shut, but she didn't bother looking back.

Winona frowned at the stairs as she descended them, instinctively hopping over the trick step and continuing onto the landing, taking the hall to the right and winding her way down to the kitchens, lost in thought.

The feeling in her gut was gone, but she remained puzzled by its appearance. What did it mean? Usually she was good with emotions, with deciphering them and figuring out how to deal with them, but suddenly she found herself having nothing to grasp onto. She couldn't even begin to describe the sensation she'd just experienced, much less figure out what to do about it.

"You look troubled."

The voice was unexpected, and it made Winona jump. She turned with a gasp, instinctively reaching for her wand.

"Only me, Andrews," Nott's voice said lightly from the alcove to her right, and she relaxed as he stepped from the shadows, hands held up in mock surrender. "You're awfully jumpy," he said dryly, pulling out his wand and silently lighting the tip with a flick of his wrist, the glow illuminating their faces. "And what, pray tell, are you doing wandering the corridors at this hour?" he asked, his voice silky smooth.

"Me?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "What about _you_? I wasn't the one lurking in a dark alcove," she said rather defensively, unsure why she was so on edge.

"I'm a prefect," he told her, utterly calm as he tapped his silver prefect's badge pointedly. "What's your excuse?"

Faltering, Winona could do no more than grimace. "I'm…on my way to detention," she lied, but not quite as fluently as usual. She straightened her shoulders, forcing her features into an expression of innocence that he didn't seem to buy for a moment. It made her hate him just a little bit.

"With who?" he asked pleasantly, as though humouring her. Like she were a child playing a game of pretend. She ground her teeth together in frustration.

"Snape," she replied, blurting the first name to come to mind.

"What a coincidence," Nott said airily. "I was heading down to the dungeons, myself. Shall I accompany you?"

Winona remained quiet for exactly three seconds before breaking, shooting him her most annoyed glare. "All right, _fine_," she said with a rather immature humph. "I'm going to the kitchens for butterbeer. Happy?"

"Immensely," he smirked, the expression – for the first time since they'd met – reaching his eyes. They sparkled, almost devious, but not in the loveable way the twins' did. Instead, it was more like how a crocodile might look at you just before it snapped its great jaws and trapped you forever.

So why did she like it so much?

"I could do with some butterbeer myself," Nott said casually, wand still held in an angular grip, held out for light. He turned and began to head to the main staircase that would take them down to the kitchens.

"You're not going to give me a detention?" she asked, following after him cautiously.

"Only if we get caught," he said, and despite the ruthlessness of it all, she had to smother a smile at his characteristically Slytherin answer.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Winona found it to not be so terrible. The sound of their footsteps on the stone floors were quiet, and the cool glow from his lit wand seemed to bathe the corridors they walked down in artificial moonlight. It reminded her of the evening they'd spent in the library only a few short weeks ago, Nott speaking in a firm but gentle voice, pointing out where she'd gone wrong in her Transfiguration essay.

She found the quiet nice but at the same time loaded with tension. It was doubtlessly one-sided, as she'd been unable to get the Slytherin out of her head ever since. He'd crawled inside her mind, renting space up there like he was entitled to it. Her sketchbook had become portraits dedicated to him and the sharp angle of his jaw, the high set of his cheek bone, and the sloping curve of his nose. She'd tried to recreate the dark spark in his eyes over and over, but she could never get it quite right.

Things remained silent as they stopped in front of the painting of a bowl of fruit. Winona reached out on instinct, gently tickling the pear which squirmed, giggled, and then morphed into a doorknob, the door swinging open with a quiet creak.

There weren't too many elves still awake, but the ones that were almost tripped over themselves in their eagerness to bring her the requested butterbeers. She took them and slipped them into her already heavy messenger bag, vaguely noting that Nott didn't ask for a bottle, despite saying earlier that he'd wanted one. She turned back to the elves, thanking them graciously and moving back out into the corridor.

She began the journey back to Gryffindor Tower, and although it hadn't been discussed, Nott began to walk with her, his lit wand still held out for light.

"I heard you dated Adam Bradley," the Slytherin suddenly spoke, and she blinked over at him in surprise, steadily climbing the stairs back up towards the main entrance.

"That's true," she finally admitted, a little bit awkward.

"Did you like him?" he asked casually.

"He was nice," she said carefully, wary about where this was heading.

"Is he a good kisser?"

Winona was more than shocked by the left-field question. Her heartbeat sped up and her skin began to tingle. Was something was about to happen and she was sensing it with her inner eye, or was this some kind of reaction to the tension that her body was having? It had become difficult to concentrate past the roaring of her pulse in her ears.

"Why don't you go snog him for yourself and find out?" she said coyly rather than give a serious answer. That was her go-to, smart-arsed comments that would hopefully buy her time to come up with something not so ridiculous.

"He's not my type," the Slytherin replied coolly, unaffected by the reply that would have thrown a lesser man.

"What _is_ your type?" she countered, if only for lack of a better response.

"At the moment?" he posed it like a question, coming to an abrupt stop at the end of the corridor, making her pause too, though she wasn't sure why. "You."

Shock travelled through her veins and she swallowed thickly, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. Was this some kind of dream, or rather, nightmare? Were the twins about to dive out from an alcove, holding each other up in fits of laughter? Had she been drugged? Was she hallucinating?

None of these possibilities seemed to make much sense, and she scrunched her face up as she attempted to sort through the great, jumbled mess that was her mind.

Only she didn't get very far, because suddenly Nott was stepping towards her. He was so close, in her personal space. She could smell his breath. Minty and cool. His eyes were right there, boring into hers with an unmatchable intensity, and then their lips were touching and Winona could do no more than inhale sharply, standing perfectly, utterly still.

The kiss was chaste, careful, like he was testing the waters, and her skin began to prickle again, but this time it wasn't a warning; it was pure attraction, like the electricity in their bodies were connected, buzzing together harmoniously, and despite all logic and reason, Winona slid her eyes shut and pressed herself closer.

Her bag hit the floor with a soft thump and the gentle clinking of glass bottles, but she barely registered the sound as she instead wound her arms around Jeremiah's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him properly.

His lips were perfectly soft and plump, and they were grasping at hers with a tantalising pressure, making her own tingle wonderfully. His arms wrapped around her, hand grasping her firmly at her hips, his fingertips almost bruising in their pressure.

Winona's head was swimming. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't do anything but press herself closer and move her lips with his. His tongue pressed into her mouth, and she let out another gasp that was enough to have him moving, pressing her firmly up against the corridor wall as he ravaged her.

She'd never been snogged in such a way before. Adam had always been overly cautious, like she was something that might break, or like he was scared about seeming improper. Jeremiah didn't seem to be at all concerned with propriety, pressing her closer to the wall as his hand slipped down to grope her backside.

That was enough to have her pulling away, gasping desperately for air. Her hands were still clutching at his hair, and he was staring down at her with a wicked smirk, eyes alight with lust and triumph, like he'd just won something. Won what, exactly? Were they playing some sort of game?

Blinking, Winona tried to process exactly what had happened, her back still pressed flat against the stone wall, her shoulders beginning to ache from the unpleasant position.

"Um..." she said unintelligently, slowly unwinding her arms from around his neck and bringing them down to her sides. His hands remained resting on her hips, fingertips dug into her flesh like claws.

"I'll let you get back to your common room, now," he told her with that arrogant smirk still set firmly in place. Why was he so damn _attractive_? "I'll see you," he said lazily, giving her hips a final tug before releasing her, slipping his still-lit wand from his pocket and turning, sauntering away like the cat that ate the canary, leaving Winona alone in the dark, trying to come to terms with her actions.

Returning to the common room a few minutes later – she'd wanted to wait longer to collect her thoughts, but the longer she spent in the corridors the larger the chance that Filch would find her – Winona climbed through the portrait hole, still somewhat numb from the odd encounter.

Her appearance was met with cheers from her friends, who hadn't seemed to have moved a muscle from where they'd all been before she'd left – which felt like a whole lifetime ago, now.

"You okay, Winnie?" Alicia asked as she silently began handing out the still-warm butterbeers. "You look all red and flushed."

"Do I?" she responded airily, still dazed. Lee made a lewd joke and the others all snorted into their treats, Winona's odd appearance forgotten.

Winona glanced down at Fred, who had Angelina sitting casually between his legs, her back pressed up against his front as though it were a position they adopted every night; suddenly, Winona didn't feel quite so guilty about her encounter with the Slytherin. Suddenly, she found herself missing his electrifying touch, and she looked away from a grinning Fred and back to the others, remaining quiet as she lost herself in thought once again.

Winona wasn't sure what she'd been expecting the next time she saw Nott, but she was still somehow disappointed when he caught her eye in Potions on Monday and gave a cool, uncaring blink before turning back to his Draught of Peace like their near-romp against the wall in the dark of the night before had never even happened.

She was silent for the rest of the lesson, wincing when her distraction caused her to accidentally add too much powdered moonstone to her potion, making it go a hot pink rather than the turquoise blue it was supposed to be.

Snape sneered disdainfully over her shoulder, as though her very existence was of great inconvenience to him, then turned with an unnecessary flap of his robes and wandered over to Nott, whom he awarded ten points to for his 'flawless work'.

Winona only grew more bitter.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Fred asked as they reappeared in the light of day. Winona was more than relieved to be out of the damp, claustrophobic dungeon. Still, the fresh air wasn't quite enough to brighten her heavy mood.

"Nothing," she murmured unconvincingly, tugging at a loose thread at the end of her sleeve. The twins both scoffed in disbelief, likely offended that she'd thought they might buy it. "Just irritated at Snape, I guess," she murmured, not totally untrue. Thankfully, this the twins _did _buy, because they immediately launched into a short skit about Snape (played by Fred) getting punched in the face by George (playing himself).

She knew she was really screwed up when she couldn't even find it within herself to laugh. There was a sudden flash of light from her right and she looked over from where she was lagging behind the twins to see Jeremiah himself standing in the door to an unused classroom, smirking at her slyly.

Frowning, she tilted her head, trying to understand, but all he did was toss his head back, silently telling her to meet him inside the classroom before disappearing from view, leaving her gaping at the spot where he'd just been standing.

"Winnie?" the twins sounded confused, and she realised she'd come to a stop and the pair had continued on forwards, pausing halfway down the corridor when they noticed she wasn't with them. "You didn't laugh at my Snape impression," Fred said with a confused frown. "You _always _laugh at my Snape impression," he added, as though a world where she _didn't_ just wasn't comprehensible.

"I forgot, I need to see…Flitwick," she lied, feeling like absolute shite for doing so, but knowing the truth was as unwise to say as it was embarrassing.

"For what?" Fred asked, looking confused. "Charms is one of the only classes you aren't failing."

Her expression flattened into one of irritation. "Thanks, Freddie," she said sarcastically. George laughed, clapping his twin on the shoulder and herding him in the opposite direction. "Meet you at lunch!" she called after them, watching as they halfheartedly waved back in acknowledgement, already murmuring about one of their next big schemes.

She waited, frozen, until they turned the corner, then made a beeline for the abandoned classroom.

She stepped inside warily, hand hovering over the pocket where her wand sat, just in case. "Nott?" she asked aloud, squinting as her eyes struggled to adjust to the absence of light in the room.

The door closed behind her with a bang, making her jump, and there was an audible chuckle before the Slytherin lit his wand with a muttered, "_Lumos_."

The space between filled with the glow of the charm, lighting up Nott's face, making the shadows fall over his sloping features like they were painted by the hand of Merlin.

Winona wasn't sure what to say. What did he want? What was the point of all this? What was meant to happen next?

"You look like you're expecting me to attack," he commented idly, hair hanging in his cold, nearly-black eyes.

"I wouldn't put it past you," she murmured, considering it a miracle that she found her voice and that it didn't waver, even though her insides were spinning uncontrollably.

"Don't you know me better than that?" he asked, voice like velvet, slowly approaching her.

_No,_ she wanted to scream, _I know nothing about you!_

Instead she just watched him, hands now dropped to her sides, staring as he grew steadily closer, until finally his hands reached out and grasped at her hips.

"I'm in Gryffindor," she blurted as he dragged her to him, his touch making her skin buzz like the wings of a thousand Cornish Pixies.

"I'm aware," he said airily, reaching up with his left hand to run a fingertip down the hollow of her throat to where the knot of her crimson and gold tie lay. She swallowed loudly.

"You're in Slytherin," she added, as though he'd somehow forgotten. This just didn't _happen._ She knew the House divide was childish and ridiculous, but it still stood; there was a _code_, there were unspoken _rules _to follow.

On top of that, Jeremiah Nott was from one of the most notorious pure-blood families in Britain. If his family found out he was willingly touching a half-blood – who'd been raised as a Muggle, mind – they'd probably skin him alive.

"What's your point?" he drawled, looking faintly bored, like her confused mutterings were tedious.

"I don't understand why you kissed me," she said plainly, and one of his dark eyebrows crawled up his forehead.

"Because I wanted to," he answered with such simplicity that it made Winona doubt whether her question was even necessary in the first place.

"But why did you want to?"

He looked contemplative, fingers still brushing the hollow of her throat, making chills break out along her skin there. "I wanted to because I think you're hot," he finally told her, his dark, raven eyes boring into hers with such intensity it made her breath catch.

She'd never been called 'hot' in her life, and she hadn't thought she ever would be, what with her limp blonde hair and pasty, paint-stained skin.

"Thanks?" she said warily, brow furrowed, wondering exactly how one was supposed to react to this kind of a compliment? _Was_ it even a compliment? The area was so grey.

He seemed to take this reaction as a positive however, so maybe it wasn't all wrong, and dove in for another bruising kiss. It was rough, and again, he clutched at her hips like he meant to mark her.

She was helpless to do anything but kiss back, struggling to keep up with the fast pace he had set, his tongue darting out to roam about her mouth in a way she wasn't used to. She gasped against his lips, feeling hot all over, like she had a fever.

There was a playful scream from out in the corridor, and Jeremiah pulled back at the sound, breaking the kiss just as startlingly as he'd begun it. Winona sucked in air, staring up at him with wide eyes, her hands tucked between their chests.

He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was, his breath steady, eyes and lips narrowed in a cocky sort of smirk.

He said nothing as he turned, heading for the door. He cracked it open, peering out for a moment before looking back at her. "Wait five minutes, then you can leave," he ordered before stepping from the room and sauntering away casually.

Shellshocked, Winona could do nothing but stare at the empty doorway, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Why was he doing this? Why did he like her? _Did_ he even like her? Did she need to put a stop to it? _Could _she put a stop to it?

She wasn't sure of anything anymore, and she reached up to brush back her hair, sucking in a shaky breath and glancing at the time. Once she was sure that leaving the classroom and arriving in the Great Hall wouldn't be suspicious, she stepped from the empty room, which was damp and smelt of dust.

The Great Hall was bustling with students attending lunch, happily munching on the array of sandwiches the elves had prepared for the meal.

She numbly took a seat between Alicia and Lee, opposite the twins, and robotically pulled a small helping of lunch onto her plate. "Where were you?" Alicia asked curiously, reaching for her goblet of pumpkin juice and taking a healthy sip. "You just disappeared after Potions."

"I had to run to the common room for something," she heard herself murmuring, very carefully keeping her eyes on her plate and _not _on the Slytherin table, where she knew Jeremiah had to be sitting.

"I thought you said you needed to see Flitwick," Fred spoke up from the other side of the table, looking confused.

Cursing herself, she scrambled for a cover. "Can't I do both?" she ended up saying, her voice inappropriately defensive. Fred looked taken aback by her snappy tone.

Shit, was was this Slytherin doing to her? Snapping at her friends? _Lying_ to them? It had to end… Whatever _it _was.

January melted into February, and Winona didn't even see Jeremiah again outside of class. He kept his eyes away from her, not even sending a sneer her way as she passed in the corridor. It was strange, and each time she spotted him her heart raced, the pounding in her ears only growing even louder when he pretended she didn't exist.

He occupied most of her thoughts, and she returned to her routine of sketching him from every angle. Sometimes with colour, sometimes in charcoal, but each time more beautiful than the last. She had his jawline memorised, and she found herself dreaming about him at night.

"Okay, _what _has gotten into you?!" George's voice snapped her out of her daze, and she sat up sharply, spine cracking at the abrupt movement. She looked over to see Fred, George and Angelina all staring at her. Clearly there had been some kind of conversation going on that she hadn't been paying attention to.

"It's...Wrackspurts," she blurted, the first thing that came to mind the rambling of the sweet but batty Luna, Ginny's friend from Ravenclaw.

"Wrackspurts?" Angelina repeated dumbly.

"They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," she recited as if this was fact, but the trio just stared at her as if her eyeballs had popped out of her skull. Sighing, she sank back into the squashy armchair and curled her legs up under her, blinking her eyes as she realised she hadn't in quite awhile, and they were beginning to sting from the heat and smoke of the roaring fire in front of them. "I'm just...distracted," she said lamely, unable to come up with anything better.

"By what?" Fred asked, eyes narrowed like if he stared at her hard enough he might be able to gain access to her inner thoughts.

"Is it a boy?" Angelina asked eagerly from where she was perched on Fred's lap, the two still not 'officially' together, but obviously well on their way.

"Er…" Winona hesitated, which was her first mistake, because Angelina gasped excitedly, the pause having all but confirmed it for her.

"Who is it?" she pressed, leaning forwards and staring at Winona expectantly, waiting for all the details. Details Winona would sooner die than explain.

"No one," Winona lied – or, was it _really _lying if she technically wasn't _dating _him? They'd only snogged each other senseless a couple of times, surely that didn't constitute any sort of proper relationship?

"You're going red," Angelina told her giddily.

Winona reached up to press her fingertips to her cheeks, horrified to find them hot to the touch.

"Seriously?!" Angelina exclaimed, now sitting on the very edge of Fred's knees, her dark eyes alight with eager enthusiasm. "Is he in Gryffindor?"

"Um-"

"Is he handsome? Does he have light hair? You need someone with light hair, so your babies will have the same!"

"What the actual f-"

"Is he older? I know you dated Adam and he was a year and a half older!" She gasped suddenly. "Is it Wood? I know you've always thought he was hot!"

"It isn't Wood," Winona hissed, casting the George a warning glance when he began to snigger at the notion of her with Wood. He fell quickly silent, knowing better than to goad her when she was in a mood.

"So it is_ someone_," Angelina said triumphantly, sitting back in Fred's lap properly. Winona watched as he wound an arm around her middle and she settled against him as if it came naturally.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. "Can you just _drop_ _it_, Ange?" she said sharply, frowning so deep that her brow began to ache.

Surprised by the unexpected bite in her voice, Angelina fell silent. Winona huffed, reaching down to scoop up her bag, only before she could make a hasty but necessary exit, a familiar voice was screaming, "LOOK!"

It was Ron, and he was tripping off the bottom of the staircase leading to the boys' dorms, dragging a long white piece of cloth with him. It took Winona a moment to realise it was a bed sheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed again, shaking the sheets in Hermione's face.

The girl looked bewildered by the strange entrance. "Ron, what — ?" she began to ask, looking uncomfortable under the eyes of every Gryffindor in the common room.

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!" Ron roared, and there was a long, drawn out silence in which you could have heard a pin drop. "BLOOD!" he yelled, shaking the sheet again. Winona pieced together what he must have thought had happened, but something about it wasn't sitting right. "HE'S GONE!" he continued to shout, "AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N — no," Hermione's voice trembled. Ron said nothing, throwing something small down onto her open book. Whatever it was made Hermione's eyes water. "You think Crookshanks-?"

"I _KNOW _IT WAS CROOKSHANKS!" Ron bellowed, unwilling to see reason.

"He wouldn't!" Hermione yelled, albeit much quieter than her redheaded friend.

"HE _DID _AND NOW SCABBERS IS _GONE_!" Ron roared, shaking the hand off when Harry clapped him on the back. He still held the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, radiating anger.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and seeing as nobody – not even Harry – was stepping in, Winona took it upon herself to intervene. "Alright, children, let's use our inside voices," she said calmly, stepping between them, blocking a trembling Hermione from his view. "You sure you didn't just get your period, Ron?"

Despite the twins' loud cackles from behind her, this was a clearly the wrong thing to say. Ron's face went a truly concerning shade of red, and his expression levelled into a deadly glare. "You!" he spat, snarling up at her murderously. "Why didn't you _see_ it?!"

Terror gripped her; she knew Ron was distraught, but surely he wouldn't lose control and reveal her secret to the whole of Gryffindor Tower. "Ron," she began carefully.

But he was lost to his ire. "You should have had a-!"

The rest of Ron's words were lost behind Fred's hand, who had seemed to have tossed Angelina off his lap and leapt instantly onto his brother, who had been about to blurt out the one thing he had sworn to never reveal. George joined his twin, grasping their little brother by the shoulders and beginning to force him in the direction of the stairs.

"Nothing to see here, folks!" George called over his shoulder as Fred muttered furiously in Ron's ear. "Just our brother, having a bit of a meltdown. I'm sure you understand!"

His words were met with stunned silence, and with a final cursory glance the twins forced Ron up the stairs and out of sight. Harry shot Winona an apologetic glance before rushing up after them.

Winona turned back around to Hermione, who looked torn between wanting to cry and scream. Winona could relate. The stares from the rest of the common room certainly weren't helping things.

"You heard what the boys said!" Winona snapped to the room at large, fire burning in her eyes. "Nothing to see here!"

They all turned away, only to turn to one another and begin to gossip about it under their breath. Winona grit her teeth and just barely kept from hexing he lot of them. She'd always had a temper, but this was ridiculous. If he kept this up, Jeremiah was going to send her to St Mungo's in the Wizarding equivalent of a straitjacket.

"You okay?" Winona asked Hermione quietly, turning back to see her hastily shutting her many books and shoving them haphazardly into her bag, which was beginning to tear at the edges from the weight it carried daily.

Hermione didn't answer other than a small sniffle, turning once she was finished and rushing up the stairs, disappearing out of sight. Winona considered leaving her alone, but if she'd fought with the twins, she knew _she'd_ want someone to follow and be there for _her_.

She knocked gently on the third year girls' door and heard a distant call to go away. She ignored it, stepping inside anyway and making sure it was shut soundly behind her.

"Go away, Winona," Hermione said again from where she was curled on her bed, her bag beside her, contents spilling out onto the covers.

"I'm just checking if you're okay," she said gently, approaching slowly with her hands raised, like the girl was a wild animal, easily startled.

"Obviously not," sniffled Hermione sadly, not quite crying, but her eyes were red.

"You know how Ron gets," she continued, ignoring the snide remark and taking a seat on the bed beside Hermione's. From the thick perfume that drifted up from the sheets, she assumed it was Brown's. The girl always smelled like she bathed in Chanel. "The kid's ruled by his temper," she said softly. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "He'll calm down, then you can patch things up."

Suddenly Hermione didn't look so sad. Instead she looked downright furious. She whirled around, a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "What if I don't _want _to patch things up?" she snarled, and Winona could only blink, not sure she understood. "I'm always letting things go, but not this time! This time, I _demand_ an apology for his behaviour," she said, punching her hand into her fist to emphasise her point.

"Right," Winona murmured, surprised. "Well, good for you!" she said with more enthusiasm, honestly a little terrified of the way Hermione was scowling.

She sniffled again, rubbed firmly at her bloodshot eyes, then turned back to her things, yanking out her books and beginning to spread them all over her bed. "I don't have time for this, Winnie," she said shortly. "I've got _five_ essays and _three_ charts due!"

"Need help with Arithmancy?" Winona offered gently.

Hermione paused, seeming to realise she was being at least a little bit rude. She looked up, a gratitude in her eyes. "I'll come get you if I do?" she said quietly. Winona was quick to accept, nodding her head.

"Of course," she smiled. "I'll see you."

Winona ducked from the room, her bag bumping against her hip with every step, and she wandered further down the hall to the fifth years' dorm, slipping inside, content to spend the rest of her evening lost in her artwork before she would hopefully get some quality sleep.

She had a feeling, however, that the events of the last few weeks were going to render her wide awake, exactly as they had every other night of the month.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys - I wanted to thank you for the response to the last chapter. You guys all seemed to really like it, and to those of you who take the time to send in a review, it honestly means the absolute world. Thank you so much. It's kind words like yours that keep me passionate about projects like this one. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you with another one soon!**


	25. He knew my name

That Friday evening was the Quidditch team's final practise before the game against Ravenclaw. Wood made them all have an early dinner, then he was rushing them off to the Pitch, desperate for as much time as they could get.

Ron tagged along, as did Winona, each convinced by their best friends that it would cheer them up.

Ron was still tormented over the apparent death of Scabbers, while Winona was dealing with silence from the gorgeous Jeremiah Nott, even after they'd thoroughly snogged in an empty classroom not once, but _twice._ Still, the twins didn't know this, all they knew was that Winona had been in a right foul mood as of late.

Fred had made a comment about being on her period. She had punched him so hard in the shoulder that his arm was still half-numb.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," Fred was saying now as they all made their way across the grounds to the Pitch. Ron kept dragging his feet, brooding about his missing pet. "And he's been off-colour for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly — one swallow — he probably didn't feel a thing."

"_Fred_!" cried Ginny indignantly, who had been invited by Winona, not wanting the girl to be alone up in the common room. She never really had gelled with the other Gryffindor girls in her year.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George. Winona found it sweet how hard the twins were trying to cheer Ron up, but their younger brother was stubbornly set on moping.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?" he asked, and Harry looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, that's true," he finally said, and Ron nodded fervently.

"His finest hour," said Fred, grinning widely as he spoke, unable to keep a straight face. "Let the scar on Goyle's finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory." Harry cracked a smile, as did everyone else around the group, except Ron, who was determined to keep pouting at the earth. "Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat. What's the point of moaning?" Fred asked impatiently. Ron only glared at his brother's insensitivity.

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, much more gentle. "You can have a ride of my Firebolt when we're done with practise!"

This was the only thing that seemed to work, and the boy perked up at the thought. "Great!" he said with renewed enthusiasm. "Can I try and shoot a few goals on it?"

" 'Course," Harry agreed readily, and Ron seemed lighter at the prospect.

The sky was overcast, the clouds thin, allowing enough light through to reflect off the dewey grass, remnants of the rain that had stopped only hours before.

"Spend your time in the stands inventing a cheer for us Beaters," George told Winona playfully as they came to a stop at the edge of the Pitch, just where the stairs leading up to the stands began.

"Brainstorm for things that rhyme with 'Fred'," Fred added.

"You mean like 'dead'?" she asked slyly.

"Come up with something a little more cheerful than that, would you?" George murmured, clapping her firmly on the shoulder before Wood called them to begin practise. Winona turned to speak to Ginny only for a glimmer of light to catch her eye, making her pause and spin around, searching for the source.

Jeremiah stood at the base to the stands, twirling his wand in his fingers, dressed in a lovely green sweater that clung to him in all the right ways.

"Ginny, why don't you go get good seats?" Winona instructed the younger girl. Although Ginny looked curious, Ron said something about Harry's Firebolt that had her distracted, and Winona took the opportunity to dart to the right, ducking under the cover to the large stands and out of sight from Ron, Ginny and the rest of the Gryffindor team.

Nott was standing against a large post in the most casual, alluring position she'd ever seen. His arms were crossed, and though he was wiry and thin, there was something attractive about it. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, making sure nobody could overhear.

"Slytherin team just finished practise," he replied without a care, his dark eyes honed in on her face. "Thought I'd stay and say hi."

"...Hi," she repeated dumbly, trying to understand.

"I wanted to see you," he rolled his eyes in exasperation, as though she were slow.

"Oh," Winona murmured, blinking her eyes quickly as she stared at him, taking in his devil-may-care smirk. Her breath left her in a huff, and he took it as a sign to approach, striding purposefully across the grass to reach her, winding one of those strong arms around her middle and dragging her to him. "Jeremiah," she said breathlessly, trying to find a way to tell him to stop, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I love it when you say my name," he said, voice low and throaty as he ducked in. She thought he was going in for a kiss, but instead he went lower, pressing his warm lips against the cool hollow of her throat.

She gasped, one hand moving up to grasp at his hair, tugging instinctively as he sucked on her pulse point. The guy knew _exactly_ what he was doing, even if she didn't. He nibbled at her neck, then took a portion of her skin and began to suck. Gasping again at the pain and pleasure it brought, Winona tugged at his hair harder, making him grunt into her skin.

When he finally, _finally_ pulled away, she was breathing just as hard as if he'd really kissed her. Then he did exactly that, swooping in and stealing another bruising kiss from her lips.

She leant into it, moaning quietly in pleasure when he nipped at her top lip. His hands slid down the small of her back and over her backside, coming to rest at her thighs. She sighed into his mouth, caught up in the reckless spontaneity of it it all.

After a long, long few minutes of blissful contact, he pulled back and hummed, staring down at her wickedly, like he wanted to shove her up against the beams and ravage her again. She was almost inclined to let him.

"Hm, can't have anyone seeing that," he murmured almost to himself, eyes on her neck, and she reached up with wide eyes to the spot he'd been sucking earlier.

"You left a mark?" she hissed, pressing a hand to it like that would make it go away. "Why would you do that?"

Jeremiah smirked, eyes alight with a dark humour she found intoxicating. It was a sharp contrast to the twins, whose eyes glittered with humour, but a light kind. It was like the difference between the night sky and the day. She wondered which she preferred, then decided it didn't matter. How could she compare them?

In a sure, simple move, Jeremiah unwound the Slytherin scarf from around his neck and held it out to her. "Oh, thanks," she said sarcastically, "I'll just walk out into a _Gryffindor_ team practise wearing a _Slytherin's_ scarf, shall I?"

He looked irritated by her argument, but even he had to admit it was common sense. With a huff he produced his wand, tapping the scarf and muttering, "_Colovaria_."

The fabric turned from emerald green to violent crimson with a shimmer, and suddenly she was looking at a Gryffindor scarf, complete with embroidered the lion at the end.

"You're very good," she murmured unthinkingly, taking it from him and gently winding it around her neck.

"I am," he agreed. He smirked, glanced over his shoulder, then said with the utmost casualness, "see you."

He was gone before she could process it, walking away casually, like nothing could touch him. Bemused, Winona ran a hand through her messy hair.

It was careless and reckless and irresponsible and dishonest, but she just couldn't stop. She had an addiction to Jeremiah Nott, that much she couldn't deny. She stared after him, then realised she'd been gone far too long, running her hands over her dishevelled appearance, trying to make it seem like she _hadn't _just been snogging with a Slytherin down below the Quidditch stands.

"Where were you?" Ron asked nosily when she sat down in the space beside him.

"Lady problems," she replied without flinching. He flushed a mortified scarlet, ducking his head, suddenly very interested in his feet. Ginny was shooting her a doubtful look from her other side, but thankfully was soon absorbed by the practise in front of her and ended up without a chance to question her.

It grew dark quickly, but only once it was too dark to see in front of them did Wood call off practise. Madam Hooch had fallen asleep, so Harry used their extra time to let Ron have a go with the Firebolt.

Winona wandered down until she was outside the locker rooms, waiting against the wall for her friends to reappear.

"Brilliant practise!" she told them brightly when they stepped into the evening, their Quidditch robes gone, replaced by their regular clothes. "Loved that feint you pulled, Ange!"

"Where'd you get the scarf?" Fred asked before the other girl could answer, his voice loud and befuddled. George and Angelina turned to look at him in surprise, then at Winona, who was trying her hardest not to blush. "You weren't wearing it before," he added, still frowning at her suspiciously.

"Yeah, I was," she lied, feeling like an absolute bastard for doing so.

Fred didn't look convinced, but suddenly Lee tripped over a root twisting out of the ground, and all the attention went to him, sprawled out on the ground like an embarrassed starfish. The group let out loud laughter, and Winona breathed a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the way Fred's eyes seemed to stay on her for the entire walk back up to the castle.

Thankfully, as the night wore on, Fred was distracted by the others and soon the whole thing was forgotten, the twins cracking loud jokes and making plans to set off dungbombs in the Slytherin's locker room come morning.

Unfortunately, she wasn't as in the clear as she'd believed. When Wood finally blew through the room, ordering the team up to bed, the girls trudged up to the dormitories, getting changed into their warmest pyjamas and settling in for the night.

Winona was just curling up under her covers, pulling out her pencils to work on a piece, when Alicia took a seat on the end of her bed, bouncing playfully on the mattress. "What's going on with you?" she asked cheerfully. Winona glanced up sharply, like the words had been shouted rather than spoken.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sidestepping the question and turning her attention back to her drawing of a Snitch, adding the gold colouring around the edges. Her hands moved fluently, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Come off it," Alicia snorted. "Ange told me you're seeing someone!"

"Ange doesn't know what she's talking about," Winona responded tightly, glad the girl in question was in the bathroom, indulging in a hot shower before bed.

"All right then, so if it's not a guy, what is it?" Alicia pressed gently, ducking her head in an attempt to catch Winona's eye.

"OWLs," she lied, keeping her eyes on her sketch. "They've got me kind of frazzled."

It was a weak attempt at best, and Alicia was silent. Winona knew she was far from convinced. "Okay, you can just tell me when you're ready," she finally said patiently, reaching out to press and hand to Winona's knee over the thick quilt she was buried beneath. "We're all here for you, you know that, right?"

Winona nodded, but didn't remove her eyes from her work, too afraid of what she'd see if she looked up, too afraid the compassion she knew she would find would have her spilling her guts like she'd downed a vial of Veritaserum.

Alicia sighed and stood to her feet, wandering back over to her bed. Winona was just relieved the conversation was over.

She didn't sleep much that night, but she rarely did anyway, and she'd long ago learned how to function on little to no rest. She was dozing lightly by the time the sun climbed over the mountains, but she was woken up what felt like _minutes_ later by her dorm mates, who were getting ready for the match.

Winona trudged down to breakfast with a yawn, sitting at the Gryffindor table and helping herself to some eggs and toast, casting a look to her right where Harry and the rest of the team sat crowded around his Firebolt like they couldn't bear to be apart from it.

She smothered a smirk, looking up as Ginny took the seat opposite her, murmuring a 'good morning' before shoving porridge into her mouth, effectively ending further conversation.

"You'd think it were made of gold," Hope mumbled from her left, casting the absorbed group an irritated glance, leaned gently against her girlfriend, Christine, who was peeling an orange with deft fingers, smiling gently at Winona in greeting.

Winona agreed, though she had to admit, the Firebolt _was _pretty cool. She wondered whether Harry would let her have a go on it.

The Quidditch Pitch was bustling when she, Lee, Hermione and Ginny all arrived. Ron was sticking with Seamus and Dean from his year, still giving Hermione the cold shoulder.

"I've gotta go up to the teacher's box," Lee told them, looking excited.

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously, eyes narrowed, as though wondering why _he _got to go sit up with the teachers.

"I'm commentating," Lee replied with raised eyebrows. "As usual."

"Right," Hermione seemed to flush with embarrassment for forgetting. The dreadlocked boy grinned and slapped his palm against Winona's in their usual farewell before heading to the opposite end of the field.

The game began and it was clear all anyone was interested in was Harry and his new broom. He swooped and dived with breathtaking speed, and Winona gasped when he had to roll out of the path of a Bludger aimed his way by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters.

Screaming out a word that made Hermione slap her, Winona glared at the Beater, cheering loudly when George aimed a Bludger right back, catching him on the shoulder. Unfortunately, he remained on his broom.

Cho seemed determined to let Harry do all the work in searching for the Snitch, just moving as he did. Hermione muttered a sour comment about how pathetic of a strategy it was. Winona grinned at her proudly for the brief insult.

It wasn't until Harry really took off, moving too fast to see, that they knew the match was about to end. Winona was just gearing up to cheer when she glanced at the field, three people covered in black cloaks standing on the grass.

Immediately she knew they weren't Dementors. If not by the white shins she could see poking out from the bottom of the robes, then by the distinct lack of depression winding its way through the excited spectators.

Still, Harry didn't know this, and suddenly she saw something massive and silver burst from his wand, shooting down to where the students were attempting to sabotage the match. Winona had heard of the Patronus Charm before, but she'd never seen it in real life. It was beautiful.

The crowd broke out into tumultuous applause, and she glanced back up to see Harry clutching the Snitch in his hand. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the match ended. Ginny turned to Winona with an elated shout, and Winona cheered back loudly, pulling the youngest Weasley into a large hug before pulling back and pushing her way through the crowd down to the Pitch when she saw the team floating towards the ground.

She saw Harry first, a dazed and elated look on his face as Ron triumphantly held his hand high in the air. She reached out and ruffled his already unruly hair. "Congrats, Boy-Wonder!" she yelled over the cheering crowd. He grinned at her, still astounded by his win.

There was a loud whoop from behind her and she turned in time for George to catch her around the waist and yank her up into a tight embrace, laughing loudly as he spun her around. She giggled and extracted herself when she began to feel dizzy.

"You did it!" she yelled up to George excitedly, brushing the hair from her face.

"Harry did it!" he replied, casting the Boy-Who-Lived a proud grin.

"We won!" Alicia and Katie were suddenly there, yanking her away from George to twirl her around like they were at a dance. Winona laughed loudly, slapping them on the back and congratulating them happily. "Did you see that first point I scored?" Katie was asking loudly, exhilaration on her pretty face.

"It was amazing, Katie!" Winona told her, grasping her friend's hands as she practically vibrated on the spot with elation. "And George hitting that Bludger at Christian? How great was that?!" she added, turning to look for George who she could now see was laughing with Lee over his commentating. "Where's Fred?" she asked, whirling around to look for the other twin.

"He's – _oh_!" Alicia broke off with a startled squeak, and Winona followed her line of sight, her jaw dropping as she laid eyes on Fred and Angelina, standing off to the side, engaged in a deep snog, arms wrapped tightly around one another.

Katie and Alicia broke out into cheers again, joining Ginny as they all fell into a victory dance at both their win and their best friends _finally _getting together.

Winona grinned again, but this time the expression was hollow, a ghost of a smile, empty of life. She was smiling because that's what she _should _have been doing, but it wasn't what she _wanted_ to do. Watching them, she just felt uncomfortable. She turned away from the embracing pair, deciding not to analyse why she wasn't as ecstatic as the others, instead falling back into the celebration of the match.

"Party! Gryffindor common room, now!" George said loudly to all the Gryffindors in earshot, clapping Harry heartily on the back.

With another tremendous cheer, the group turned and headed for the castle while the team ducked into the locker rooms to get changed. George quickly told Winona that he and Fred were off to Hogsmeade for party supplies, but Winona declined to go with them, saying she'd rather stay with the others.

As she was just about to turn onto the path leading back to the school, Winona turned to catch Fred and Angelina holding hands and grinning at one another dopily as they headed for the locker rooms.

Caught up in the tidal wave of Gryffindors, Winona stayed close to Hermione and Ginny, who were chatting contently about Hermione's Muggle Studies class. Winona was lagging behind, trying to figure out where the ball of uncomfortable wire in her gut had come from and where, exactly, it was going to go, when a hand slipped into hers, tugging firmly.

With a tiny yelp, Winona was yanked into an alcove, out of sight from the others who hadn't seemed to notice her sudden disappearance. Hands curled into fists, prepared to fight her way free, Winona whirled around to glare at her captor, only to find Jeremiah staring at her with that awful, sexy smirk.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, glancing back out, expecting somebody to have noticed, but nobody gave the alcove so much as a second glance. He only smirked back, and suddenly she knew exactly what he wanted. "This is a bad idea," she whispered, and his smirk broke out into a full-blown leer before he was diving in for a kiss so intense that it made her head spin.

She wanted to think, she wanted to ask so many questions. Why this was happening between them? What were they to one another? What did he want from her? But instead, all she could think was _more, _and she clutched at him desperately, diving into him like he were a lake, one she felt she was quite possibly going to drown in.

It was intoxicating in the worst kind of way, and she knew it was so incredibly wrong. There were so many reasons to stay away, but he made her blood boil, and she could do nothing but hold onto him as he slammed her against the alcove wall and kissed a trail down to her chest, nibbling at her skin.

The only sound filling the alcove were her panting breaths and his guttural growls as he ground his hips into hers. Head tossed back, Winona pressed her lips together at the friction, unlike any she'd felt before. She wanted to pull away then, but suddenly the image of Fred and Angelina twisted together on the Quidditch Pitch floated through her mind. With renewed intensity, Winona yanked at Jeremiah's hair, forcing his lips back onto hers and giving a quiet moan at the friction.

It would have only been minutes – though it felt like hours – when finally he pulled away, seemingly hardly as effected as she felt, that never-waning smirk sitting perfectly on his lips.

"What are we doing?" she asked once she could finally catch her breath but before she could talk herself out of it.

"I thought it was fairly obvious."

"I mean…what are we?" she tried again, beginning to lose confidence.

Jeremiah groaned, pulling away from her and stepping back against the other wall of the alcove, a scowl on those sinful lips. "You're not one of _those _girls, are you?" he asked and, confused, Winona could do no more than stare at him. "_What are we? What do you want this to be? What do I call you?_" he drawled with something of a whine and a faint, but definitely there, falsetto. "I thought you were different."

"I am!" she insisted, struck with a terror that he wouldn't want her any more; that the exchange of fiery touches would come to an end.

"So, you don't want anything more than to have some fun, right?" he asked, staring back expectantly.

Did she? Could she really handle nothing coming to this, just being someone he could use for pleasure?

Did she want a relationship? Kind of, yeah, but with a _Slytherin_? What would that look like? Would it even be possible?

She knew they were safer in secret, and as pathetic as it was, she didn't want their time to come to an end. Jeremiah fascinated her, and he made her heart race in a way that Adam never had. Maybe, in time, they could grow to have something real, something epic. Maybe she just needed to put in the hard yards first, until that time came.

"All I want is fun," she told him, voice steady and convincing. With something of a victorious grin, he swooped back in for another snog, and she lost herself in groping touches and wet, consuming kisses.

* * *

The party was one of their best, the height of Winona's night being when the twins stood onto the table and began juggling butterbeer bottles like they were tennis balls. She was sat in the corner with Lee, Katie and Alicia, all of them still laughing over Lee's ridiculous commentary.

She got caught up in the celebrations, forgetting her new deal with Jeremiah and focusing on her friends' laughter and the twins' antics. But it was easy, and in her experience, nothing easy ever lasts.

"So, Ange..." Katie began when the dark beauty took a seat in the empty chair that Lee had just vacated, wandering off in search of more butterbeer.

"What?" Angelina asked coyly, looking away from where the twins had thrown some chocolate frogs into their juggling act.

"Oh, come off it," Alicia sniggered. "We all saw it."

Angelina averted her eyes, blushing. Alicia and Katie squealed, and it was all Winona could do to smile, keeping her eyes on her bashful friend, who was now tugging at a lock of her springy hair sheepishly.

"So, what does this mean?" Katie asked in a low voice, glancing over at the twins as though there was a chance they might overhear from the complete opposite end of the common room. "Are you two like, _together_ now?"

"I dunno," Ange replied evenly, casting the twins a longing glance. Winona vaguely wondered whether Angelina could tell the difference like she could, but cast the thought from her mind. Of course she could, otherwise how would she know which one she liked? And she was obviously besotted with Fred.

The look she was sending him made Winona think of Jeremiah, and how she wished they were in the same House. All of her problems would be solved if he wasn't a Slytherin. Though, she supposed, maybe that was just part of what made him so appealing. The forbidden romance of it all.

That thought made her feel sick, and she was sure it showed on her face. She was quick to try and arrange her features into something more cheerful, but it was a lousy attempt at best.

"All I know is that I really, really like him," Angelina told the girls with a shy giggle. "I've never felt this way before."

"You two are so cute," Alicia tittered, reaching out to squeeze her friend's hands gently. "Look, he can't even keep his eyes off you!" she added, and everyone around Winona shifted into a forced-casual sort of position.

Floundering, Winona blinked, realising her expression was still dark and pensive. She glanced up despite Angelina's hissed order not to look, meeting Fred's eyes. He had a look of concern on his face, and she just knew_,_ as she always _just_ _knew_, that Fred hadn't been looking at Angelina.

He'd been looking at her.

She forced her mouth up into a smile, silently conveying she was fine, before turning to the others, who still weren't looking obviously but instead glancing over at him inconspicuously, giggling about how smitten he was with Angelina.

Guilt coursed through Winona like a river. This was meant for Angelina, not her. She hurriedly turned her attention away from Fred, leaning over the girls and asking Katie loudly if she fancied a rematch at Gobstones.

The party seemed to go on forever, and but eventually McGonagall stormed in, snapping at them all to go to bed. The twins walked her to the portrait hole, loudly exclaiming how beautiful she looked in her dressing gown and hairnet. She shot them a less-than-amused look, lips tightly pursed, and told them sternly to get some sleep and to stop causing trouble.

She disappeared out into the hall but the party still began to break up, everyone moving up towards the stairs. Winona wasn't tired and considered staying down to help clean up, but she had a feeling the House Elves wouldn't take too kindly to that. She gathered her bag, which she'd tossed into the corner when she'd arrived, and headed for the girls' staircase, only to pause awkwardly when she found Fred and Angelina already standing at the bottom step, hands held together between them as they whispered to one another.

Winona paused, nearly choosing to wait, but ended up deciding the last thing she wanted was to stick around to watch them snog. She cleared her throat loudly – and maybe a little obnoxiously – and the pair jumped, not having realised she'd only been standing two feet away from them.

"Winnie," Fred said, blinking at her as he took back his hands. Angelina frowned. "What's up?" he asked expectantly, staring at her as though waiting for her to ask for something.

"Um, you're in my way," she answered, only slightly awkward. Fred spun around, glancing between her and the staircase before realising his mistake.

"Right, yes, of course," he bumbled, hurriedly stepping out of the way, thus bringing him even closer to Angelina, who looked pleased by the fact.

"Night, Fred," she told him with an exasperated roll of her eyes, sidestepping them deftly and all but fleeing up the stairs. She vaguely heard him call a goodnight after her, but she didn't stop to listen, heading straight for her dorm where Alicia and Hope were both already passed out – still fully dressed – on their beds.

She tried her best to get some sleep, but she just couldn't seem to shut off her mind.

Angelina had come in, gotten changed and fallen into bed easily, but Winona remained alert, her skin tingling. She should have been taking the time to sort out the mess of feelings in her brain, but instead, all she could think was, _something is about to happen_.

What good did that do? _Something _could have been _anything_. How was she supposed to help anyone if she couldn't even figure out exactly what was going on?

Something deep in her subconscious told her to go back down to the common room, and so she sat up, wide awake. Had she left something down there? Was there someone who needed help? Was something going to happen there?

Standing as silently as she could, Winona tucked her feet into the fluffy bunny slippers the twins had given her for one of her birthdays. She was quiet, no sounds but Alicia snoring from the far bed, as she moved over to the door, opening it and wincing at the creak that echoed throughout the room.

Nobody stirred, so she kept going, gently padding her way down the stairs to the common room where the fire was still burning, though much less so than it had been earlier.

She gave the space a cursory glance, walking into the middle of the room and running her fingertips over the backs of the couches, feeling the worn material under her skin as she tried to focus on the buzzing sensation.

What was her bloody inner eye trying to _tell_ her?

Before she could dig out any answer that made sense, there was a horrified scream from above her and then the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. With a gasp, Winona whipped around, not having expected any of the other students to be up so late. However the person who appeared at the bottom of the staircase was anything but a student.

Sirius Black stood before her, draped in grimy old prison rags, his face caked with dirt, his eyes alight with furious passion. He stared at her, and she stared back, wishing she'd thought to bring her wand.

Only, the longer he stared at her, the more the look in his eyes melted from one of anger or fear. Instead it was replaced by shock, then the glittering of unshed tears. Stunned by the reaction, Winona could only gape at him, struggling to come to terms with the fact that Sirius Black was standing in Gryffindor Tower, staring at her like she was a ghost – staring at her the exact same way Lupin had, that very first lesson of the term.

"Winona?" Black finally asked, a mere croak, like he hadn't used his voice in years.

Eyes shooting wide open, Winona found herself feeling faint. "You know me?" she asked breathlessly. Questions began to bubble and boil on her tongue, but before she could voice them there was a series of loud shouts from above them. Black's eyes darted to the portrait hole behind her.

She should have tried to stop him, should have screamed for help – something, anything to keep him from escaping. Instead, what she did probably would have knocked a less desperate man off his feet; she stepped aside, giving the convicted murderer a perfect run at the portrait hole.

Looking back, she wasn't sure why she did it, but she knew, just as she _always knew, _she was doing the right thing by the future. Black shot her a look that could only possibly be described as grateful relief and teary affection before ripping his gaze away like it hurt and tearing off through the portrait hole, disappearing from sight.

Adrenaline had flooded her system the moment she'd seen him, but now that he was gone, it left her body like water evaporating in the sunlight. She gasped, clutching onto the back of the couch to hold herself up, her knees threatening to give out. She sucked in a few deep breaths of air, trying to keep from hyperventilating. Trying to keep the strange panic from drowning her.

"_Who shouted_?" somebody was yelling from the boys' dorms. "_What're you doing_?"

Ron tripped into the common room, a look of utter terror on his face, confusion and bewilderment on Harry's as he stumbled out after him.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Ron?" Harry asked warily.

"I'm telling you, I saw him!" Ron cried hysterically.

"What's all the noise?" Alicia appeared from the girls' dorms, halfway through a yawn.

"Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!" Hope appeared beside her, a frown on her face. Nobody gave Winona a look, and she supposed in the mess of it all, they hadn't noticed her stood there.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" Fred had tumbled into sight, eagerness spread brightly over his face.

"Everyone back upstairs!" Percy stormed into the room, pinning his badge onto his pyjamas in a move that probably would have made Winona laugh under different circumstances.

She let out a wheeze, attempting it anyway, and finally someone noticed her. "Win?" Fred asked, stepping away from his brother and heading over to his best friend, who was still relying on the couch to keep her upright.

"Perce — Sirius Black!" Ron squeaked from behind them, and Winona watched Fred's eyes go wide. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

Fred was staring at her in shock, taking in her shaking limbs and pale face.

"Nonsense!" said Percy primly, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron — had a nightmare —"

"I'm telling you!" Ron growled, whirling around to fix Winona with a look. "You were here, you saw him!" he yelled at her, and her eyes went even wider at the attention of the rest of the common room.

"Winona didn't see anything, Ron-" Percy tried to say.

"I did," Winona spoke. Her voice was voice soft but they still heard her. The entire room went still, and every eye was focused on her. "It was Sirius Black."

There was only silence, nobody seemed to know what to say. Suddenly George was there, threading a comforting arm around her and drawing her into his side. He was warm, and frowning at how hard she was trembling, holding her to him tightly. Fred only continued to stare, like he was rooted to his spot, like he didn't know how to react.

"Now, really, enough's enough!" McGonagall had appeared, the portrait slamming behind her as she tore into the room. "I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!" she said to the Head Boy in disappointment, and Percy looked like she'd just accused him of murdering her cat.

"I certainly didn't authorise this, Professor!" he said once he'd gotten over the shock, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare —"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron suddenly bellowed, cheeks red and he whirled around on the Deputy Headmistress. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him, saying nothing.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley," she finally said tightly.

"Winona saw him too!" he continued loudly, throwing out an arm at the older student, who was still being held upright by a worried George. "Didn't you, Winona?!"

"It's true, Professor," Winona confirmed rather weakly, feeling vaguely like she was going to throw up, but powering on nonetheless. "He was here. I saw him. Sirius Black – he's in the castle."

The blood was beginning to drain from McGonagall's face, leaving her pasty and white as a ghost.

"But how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?" she asked, voice almost as weak as Winona's.

"Ask him!" cried Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw him!"

Beady eyes flickering between the third and the fifth year, the look within them suspicious, McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan cheerfully.

There was a stunned silence, and Winona felt like the air had been suctioned from her lungs.

"You — you _did_?" asked Professor McGonagall faintly. "But — but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

There was a lengthy pause in which Winona just clung tighter to George, trying to draw strength from the warmth of his skin. Then McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk, Winona feeling just as pale.

"Which person," she began, her voice shaking with rage, "which abysmally _foolish_ person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

Everyone was silent until there was a pitchy squeak and poor Neville raised a trembling hand.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "I see, Mr Longbottom," she said, and Winona had never heard her speak so coolly. "All of you, stay here, in the common room while I conduct a sweep of the dorms."

"He went out the portrait hole, Professor," Winona said before she could talk herself out of it, and McGonagall turned towards her, expression severe.

"Be that as it may, Miss Andrews, I will be conducting a search anyway," she said, turning and heading up the boys' stairs first. She was gone, but still nobody spoke, everybody too terrified and shocked to think of anything to say.

"Okay, everybody take a seat!" Percy called unnecessarily loudly, as the silent room would have heard even a whisper. Everybody turned to stare at him. "Looks like we're in for a long night!"

Slowly but surely, murmurs began to rise up in the crowd, everybody looking for somewhere comfortable to settle into. George began to drag Winona backwards, heading for a comfy little couch in the corner, just big enough for three people. He sat down, taking her with him, and she weakly collapsed onto the cushion, exhaling as the pressure left her shaking legs.

She watched as Fred mumbled something to Lee, who nodded then hurried over to the girls, sweeping them all up in some conversation, keeping their attention from a still-rattled Winona. She leant further into George, relieved she wouldn't be bombarded by their questions.

She watched as he moved over to Ron, talking with him for a moment, then clapping him on the shoulder and heading towards them with a nod at George, confirming their brother was okay. "You okay, Win?" George was asking her softly.

She said nothing, watching as Fred came towards them. Only instead of taking a seat on the cushion beside her, he knelt down in front of her, gently placing his hands over her knees.

"Winnie?" Fred asked gently, and she looked away from his anxious expression to nod her head.

"Yeah," she said, glancing between the nearly identical pair. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"He didn't hurt you?"

"No," she answered hollowly. An image was coming to mind, she could see it in her head, but it was fuzzy, and she almost wished it would trigger a vision so it would all make sense. But no vision came. "I don't think he wants to hurt any of us," she told them twins honestly, and they exchanged a glance that she barely registered.

"What makes you say that?" George asked, his hand still rubbing up and down her arm in a soothing manner.

Reaching up, she wordlessly tapped at her forehead, not knowing how else to explain it. The twins exchanged another glance, but Winona was too used to it to be bothered.

"So, what exactly happened?" George asked slowly. "Why were you down here in the first place?" Again, the only thing she could possibly do was reach up to tap tiredly at her temple. "You had a vision?"

"A feeling," she corrected him, staring past them without really seeing anything, and they knew she was somewhere else in her mind. "I thought at first that I'd forgotten something down here, and it wouldn't stop bugging me, so I came, stood here for about a minute – then I heard Ron scream, and suddenly Black was standing at the bottom of the stairs."

"What did he do?" Fred asked, hands tightening around her knees, gripping her desperately, as though if he didn't, she might blow away like smoke.

"Absolutely nothing," she said, turning her attention away from the image she couldn't quite see, finally focusing on Fred, who looked relieved when a spark of awareness reappeared in her eyes, the colour like the cracked clouds of a storm, light breaking through the fractures and making the rain glow with life. "He just stared at me, like he was afraid I'd curse him or something." She sighed. "I couldn't have – I didn't even have my wand," she told them quietly.

Fred looked horrified at the thought of her facing Black without her wand, and she hurried to reassure him.

"Like I said, he didn't do anything," she repeated gently, but it wasn't enough for him to relax. "Except..." she trailed off, the weight of her coming words sitting on her chest, making her heart feel like it were getting squashed.

"Except what?" Fred pressed, still gripping her knees tightly, leaning closer in, the position strangely intimate, although that was the furthest thing from her mind. "What happened, Win?" he asked, gentle but instant. He had to know, had to be sure she was okay.

She met his eyes, her own shining with unshed tears – just like Black's had been. "He knew my name," she whispered, the words like a tremendous secret for his ears only. George kept rubbing her arm, but she'd almost forgotten he was even there.

Fred's eyes went wide, and he exchanged a long stare with his brother. "Sirius Black knew your name?" he finally asked, just to be certain, his voice weak with concern.

"How is that possible?" she breathed, the words stabbing at her insides. Why did she feel like she were missing something? A piece of herself that held all the answers she needed, but hovered just out of reach?

"Winnie?" Harry had appeared before Fred could say anything else. They all looked up at him, Winona was quick to blink away the shine to her eyes, making sure the kid couldn't tell how shaken up she was. "What happened?" he asked her, voice hard.

"I had a feeling I should come down here," she relayed again. "I was here for less than a minute before I heard the screams, then I saw Black appeared at the staircase. Then-" she cut herself off abruptly.

"Then what?" Harry pressed with a hint of impatience.

Winona swallowed. "Then he ran past me, out the portrait hole," she said, lying by omission and feeling like shit for doing it. But she didn't want to put her issues onto Harry, he had enough to worry about without this on his plate, too.

"You didn't try to stop him?" he asked, sounding angry.

Eyebrows shooting up, she met his eyes properly, her usual strength returning to her. "I didn't have a wand," she informed him primly. "What was I meant to do? Tackle him to the floor?"

Harry had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Sorry," he murmured, but he was already forgiven. "You're alright?"

She nodded, casting a look over at Ron, who was surrounded by a group of first-years, relaying his tale of bravery to their eager, hero-worshipping faces. "I guess Ron is too," she said idly, slowly beginning to feel more like herself.

"I'm going to go check on Hermione," Harry said, not able to accomplish even a smile, making Winona sad. "Winnie," he said before turning away, lowering his voice in such a way that she realised he was about to say something private. "You'll tell me if you..." he looked left and right, "_see_ anything, about Sirius Black, won't you?"

Winona wasn't sure that was something she could promise, but nevertheless she nodded, not wanting to say no to his hopeful face.

"Thanks," he sighed, as though this were a load off his shoulders, nodding to her and the twins before turning and heading for the other side of the room where she could just see Hermione's bushy head of hair perched at the table near the fire.

She lost herself in thought, staring after the Boy-Who-Lived with a faraway expression, only jolting out of it when Fred gently squeezed her leg, thumb brushing tenderly over the inside of her knee, making a curious tingle run down her spine.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Fred asked, lowering his voice to a whisper, as it was obvious a group of fourth years next to them were attempting to eavesdrop.

"I'll be fine," she promised him vaguely, looking away from where Harry was murmuring with an anxious-looking Hermione. Her plain grey eyes met his cornflower-blue orbs, and she attempted something of a smile. "I just need to speak with Dumbledore," she said, casting a look over at the portrait hole as though the Headmaster might march through. "As soon as humanly possible," she added in a murmur. They were quiet, and Winona began to feel uncomfortable under Fred's intense gaze. "Are you sure Ron's alright?" she checked, and those seemed to be the magic words, because Fred suddenly leapt to his feet and turned to shoot his brother a snide look – the younger Weasley lapping up the attention like a thirsty cat presented with a bowl of milk.

"I think he's fine," George said with a chortle, and Winona managed a feeble laugh.

Everyone remained rather quiet, the twins tried to start up a round of Exploding Snap, but each time the cards blew up everyone in the common room flinched as though someone had screamed. So they quickly stopped that, going back to wandering around the common room, making lewd jokes about Sirius Black being in the dorms that nobody actually enjoyed.

Angelina and Alicia came over to sit with Winona, and thankfully they kept the questions to a minimum. She leant against her friends, listening as they gently tossed about theories of how the mass murderer had gotten onto the grounds in the first place.

"I'm afraid there's no sign of Black in the castle," McGonagall said tightly when she appeared through the portrait hole just as the sun was breaking out over the clouds. The students of Gryffindor seemed to sigh as one, both relieved they were safe and disappointed Black hadn't been caught.

"How'd he get past the Dementors, Professor?" a brave seventh year spoke up, his Irish accent lilting.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with such things, Miller," McGonagall replied sternly, but there was a frustrated glint to her eye that told Winona she'd been wondering the exact same thing. "Everybody is to return to their dorms and try and get some sleep before classes."

There was a general groan of disappointment. "But, Professor, how're we meant to handle class on only two hours of sleep?" asked a determined fourth year.

"Yeah, not to mention the traumatic experience we've just endured!" Fred added loudly, and the whole common room nodded in vehement agreement.

"Classes will resume as usual," their Head of House told them, her voice low and stringent. "Off to your dorms," she prompted sharply when nobody moved. "Now." Slowly, people began to rise, dragging their feet and muttering between one another irritatedly.

Winona sighed, taking Angelina's hand and letting the other girl pull her to her feet. She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand as she began to shuffle over to the twins. The common room was almost empty now, only she and her friends left.

"Andrews," the Transfiguration teacher said lightly, and Winona wasn't sure whether to be glad or distressed by the summons. She turned, all of her friends doing the same. "You may all go on up to bed," McGonagall said with a steely undertone, her beady eyes fixed onto Winona. "I wish to speak only with Miss Andrews."

With raised eyebrows, the girls nodded, checking Winona was okay before heading up the stairs and out of sight. The twins hesitated, so she quickly nodded to them, and with a reluctant glance they hurried up their own stairs off to the left.

"Yes, Professor?" Winona asked once they were alone.

McGonagall's reply didn't surprise her in the least. "The Headmaster would like to see you in his office," she said quietly, and though she was tired, she was used to operating on little-to-no sleep, and just nodded her head, following the Professor out the portrait hole.

Dumbledore's office was far warmer than the rest of the castle, and the moment she was inside she made a beeline for the crackling fire, bringing up her hands to the flames, sighing in content as the heat sank into her skin.

Dumbledore was sitting quietly at his desk. He didn't make a move to address her, nor did she address him. Instead they sat in semi-uncomfortable silence, Winona staring at the flames, and Dumbledore staring at her.

"I didn't see anything to suggest this might happen," she was the first to speak, deciding silence was only keeping her from her bed longer.

"I hadn't thought you did," the Headmaster told her patiently, and she stepped even closer to the flames, enjoying the way her flesh began to sting with the heat. "Nobody was hurt, Winona," he said in his deep, aged sort of voice.

"But what if they had been?"

"But they weren't."

She huffed, the air leaving her lungs sharply.

"You are not responsible for everything you do or do not see," Dumbledore reminded her, and she finally turned from the flames to frown at him, her ridiculous fluffy bunny slippers making her feel inadequate in the regal, magnificent room. She padded across the space, thanking Merlin that the twins hadn't bought her the ones that squeaked, and took a seat in the big, comfortable chair she so often claimed.

"What's the point in having these visions, if I don't see the important things?" she asked him seriously. Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin, staring at her with piercing blue eyes. "The outcome of a Quidditch match hardly compares to Black breaking into Gryffindor Tower," she added in something of a growl.

"Perhaps having prior knowledge of this would have put you in danger."

"I was already in danger," she replied sharply. "I was face to face with Black – _without_ a wand."

The Headmaster sat back against his regal chair. "Do you believe Sirius Black had any intention of harming you?" he asked, voice carefully measured. She didn't want to talk about this, about his intentions or abilities or dangers. She wanted to know one thing, and one thing only, but she knew she wasn't the one in charge of this conversation.

She opened her mouth to reply, then recalled what she'd told the twins. "No," she told him flatly, bewildered by her own answer. She wanted to ask why this was (it didn't make sense, after all; why would a psychotic mass-murderer break into a school guarded by Dementors, but mean _no_ _harm_?) but Dumbledore kept talking.

"How did you know to go into the common room?" he questioned lightly, eyes twinkling like they were exchanging banana bread recipes and not talking about the traumatic events of the evening.

"I just knew," she said rather lamely. He stared at her, waiting for her to go on. "In my mind, it was almost like I thought I'd forgotten something down there, a niggling thought that I had to be there for some reason. I acted on instinct, heading down the stairs, then I saw him."

Dumbledore hummed as though she'd said something particularly interesting, nodding almost to himself, rather than to her.

"When is your next lesson with Professor Trelawney?" he asked abruptly, and she sank further into the squishy cushions of the provided chair.

"In a few days. Why?"

"There is another branch of magic that I believe you should learn," he began, peering at her from over his delicate, half-moon spectacles. She tried not to shift awkwardly in her seat. "It's called Occlumency."

He didn't immediately elaborate, and Winona grew uneasy. "What exactly is Occlumency, sir?" she prompted him, and his stare narrowed seriously.

"It's a form of protecting your mind against unwanted attacks," he told her slowly. "It isn't easy, but I believe it will prove a crucial skill for you to learn."

"Why, though?" she pressed, annoyed by his hedgy answers.

"It prevents your enemy from entering your mind, stepping through your memories by way of a magic called Legilimency." Dumbledore paused, the silence was heavy. "There are many wizards who would do _unspeakable_ things in order to get just a _glimpse_ inside your head, Miss Andrews," he told her, the earnest tone he used making her shudder. "Particularly in these coming years..." he added mysteriously, but she ignored that part. There were more important things to cover.

She felt uneasy, fear trickling through her insides like a poison, the phantom sensation prickling at her skin.

"It is also my belief that, once you learn Occlumency, your visions will be easier to manage and control," he continued, and she felt a sprout of hope in her gut.

"How will I learn?" she asked, her voice weaker than she would have liked.

"I will be giving you the lessons myself," he told her, and she blinked in surprise. "The knowledge inside your mind can't be accessed by _anybody_, not even those we trust most." Winona's brow furrowed at his strong words. "These visions were given to _you,_ Miss Andrews; nobody else," he said rather simply, as though this were the only explanation needed.

"How will it work?" she asked rather than ask more questions she knew would remain unanswered. "Do I have to take some kind of potion?"

"I will enter your mind, as an enemy would, and you will attempt to fight me off."

Apprehensive, Winona frowned at him further. "But, wouldn't that mean _you_ will see into my memories?" she asked carefully.

"Yes."

"But you just said nobody else could know what I've seen."

Dumbledore's sapphire eyes twinkled, but not with humour like she'd expected. "There are exceptions to every rule, Winona," he said plainly, and she frowned again, something about the way he'd thrown in her first name making her uneasy. His expression cleared, a carefree humour back in place like it had never left, and she wondered if she'd somehow imagined the entire exchange. "We will begin on Thursday night," he told her, reassuring her that it was all very much real.

"I'm going to be having lessons with you _and _Trelawney?" she asked, quickly realising this was a different day to the one she usually met the Divination Professor on. She tried not to sound too annoyed, but something about the way he smiled told her she hadn't succeeded.

"Occlumency has little theory to go over," he assured her gently, eyes twinkling again. "I understand that is a fact that will please you greatly."

She looked away sheepishly, trying not to think about how Dumbledore was most likely more than aware of her less than impressive grades.

"Go on back to bed. I dare say you could use a few hours of sleep," he told her, kindly waving her from his office. "Don't dally now," he added, reminding her of Sirius Black's appearance – as though she'd somehow forgotten.

"Sir," she said firmly, refusing to leave her seat. He seemed mildly surprised by her stubborn behaviour, but kept his attention on her, sensing she wouldn't let it drop. "There's something more."

"And what is that, may I ask?"

She took a deep breath, letting the cool air in her lungs calm her. "He knew my name," she said, voice shaking over the confession. Dumbledore's eyes glinted with an emotion she couldn't put a name to. "Sirius Black _knew_ _my_ _name_," she repeated herself firmly, swallowing around her painfully dry throat. "How?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, giving her no immediate answer. Instead he leaned back in his chair and stared at her contemplatively.

"Sir?" she pressed after a good few minutes of nothing but silence. She suddenly got the feeling, stronger than ever, that things were being kept from her. Important, life altering things.

"I believe, Miss Andrews, that some things are better left unknown," he finally said, the words wholly unsatisfying.

"_Some things are better left unknown_?" she echoed, incredulous and very rightly pissed off. "That's seriously what you're going with right now?"

Dumbledore didn't so much as blink. "You need to trust that I know what's best-"

"What aren't you telling me?" she deadpanned, an unspoken threat in her voice.

Dumbledore considered her again, taking in the dangerous glint to her eyes. "You need sleep, Winona," he said calmly. "I'll see you next Thursday to begin our lessons."

It was an obvious dismissal, one she knew better than to ignore. So with great reluctance, Winona stood to her feet. Glaring at the Headmaster with unbridled resentment, she left the office, letting the door slam on her way out, but that did nothing to ease the turmoil in her gut or quiet the desperate, screaming questions in her head.

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**A/N: Hey guys – so some of you leave the best reviews ever, and they make me smile so big and just turn my whole week around. I wanted to thank you so much again for those of you who take the time to review. **

**From now on I'd like to give special mention to those reviews that hit me the most, and this week's pick is _turtlethewriter. _Thank you so much for your kind words. Your excitement for this story fuels my own, and I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last one. **

**See you all again soon!**


	26. We shouldn't be doing this

**A/N: Hey guys, so if you've been here since the beginning, you might notice I took down the rating from an M t few chapters in. This was because I felt like the story wasn't meeting the 'M' requirements, and also so more people would get a chance to see it, being that T is a much more common search parameter. **

**With this chapter, however, I'm forced to kick it back up to an M. So from here on out, the content is going to get a whole lot more adult, starting with a fairly graphic smut scene towards the end of this chapter. This is your final warning.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Hermione was in a state; Ron _still _wasn't talking to her, and Harry was cordial at best. Winona felt bad, doing all she could to involve the girl in her day to keep her occupied, but Hermione could hardly stand the twins' company, and they were more often than not by her side. The younger student was only annoyed by their loud, lewd jokes and sly pranks, so Winona felt like she was really just doing Hermione a bigger favour by keeping them separated.

"We're trying to help," Fred said offhandedly when she brought it up, draped over the couch by the fire, sucking on the end of one of her Sugar Quills. "Not our fault she wouldn't know funny if she tripped over it on the way to class – Lee! Pass the Cauldron Cakes!"

Winona sighed, leaning back in her seat, curled in a thick, squishy armchair, nibbling on a small slice of peanut brittle she'd swiped from the kitchens.

"Dunno why you're so worried. She'll live," George told her, halfheartedly working on a Transfiguration essay due the day after next.

"Guess I just feel bad for the girl," she shrugged, casting Hermione a glance, the third year at her usual spot in the common room, her tabletop more textbook than polished wood. "She's nice, once you get past the whole know-it-all thing."

George snorted before leaning back, apparently giving up on his homework.

"I mean, I wouldn't be able to handle it if the two of you wouldn't talk to me," she said. Fred looked up from the Chocolate Frog cards he was sifting through with Lee.

"We'd never stop talking to you over something so petty as a cat," he told her in a scoff, as though the mere suggestion was insulting.

Her mind flew to Jeremiah, and uneasiness spread through her system like a black dye, dripping into her veins like a poison. "What about over something _not_ petty?" she asked, crease between her brows deepening.

Lee wasn't paying attention, muttering a spell over the cards, his wand sparking at the tip. She decided against asking what he was trying to do. The twins, on the other hand, both looked up at her curiously.

"I just mean..." she trailed off, not knowing how to voice her thoughts without sounding stupid. "Forget it," she finished lamely, forcing a chuckle and turning back to the homework she'd long since forgotten, her Arithmancy equations sitting unanswered before her.

"Don't worry, Win," Fred said despite her casual shrug. "We'll be around for so long, you'll get sick of us!"

"I'm already there," she told him slyly, falling back on humour rather than any real emotion. The twins let out mock gasps and punched her in the arm, one on either side. She grinned, putting aside her worries and opening her mouth to say something when she caught sight of another head of fiery red climbing through the portrait hole beside a familiar head of inky, untameable black. Eyes narrowing, Winona pushed her forgotten homework off her lap and stood to her feet.

The twins let out teasing 'oohs' from behind her as she strode towards Ron with purpose.

The look on her face must have been mildly terrifying, because Ron let out a squeak of fear when he saw her marching towards him.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" she snapped as she approached. Both boys looked uncomfortable, glancing at one another, unsure how to answer. "Hermione is an absolute wreck, and the two of you think it's okay to ostracise her like she murdered a rat in cold blood?"

Ron flushed red, but Harry continued to appear uncomfortable, like he was desperately wishing he were anywhere else.

"Imagine how you would feel if Hermione and Harry stopped talking to you because of something accidental," she hissed furiously. "Not to mention the whole broom thing – which she only did to _protect _you, but you immature little blighters-"

"Winona!" Harry exclaimed, bringing her ranting to an abrupt but necessary stop. She fell quiet, eyes narrowed at him, thinking that he sure as hell had better have a good reason for interrupting her. "We just got back from tea with Hagrid," he explained, hands held out placatingly. "He's already spoken to us about it, and we agree."

Ron looked like he wasn't quite sure that was true, but he didn't argue, pressing his lips into a thin line that reminded Winona starkly of his mother.

"So you'll stop being dickheads to Hermione?" she confirmed.

The pair seemed exasperated by the question, rolling their eyes in a way she didn't appreciate. They also didn't answer, but she figured it was as good as she was going to get from a pair of thirteen year old wizards.

"If she comes to me crying _one _more time," she added menacingly, jabbing a finger in their direction. She didn't need to finish the threat, they both knew she'd turn them inside out if it ever came down to it.

The pair nodded, and she beamed her satisfaction. "Good," she said brightly, stepping between them and hooking an arm around each of their shoulders. "Now, will you fellas be joining us down in Hogsmeade next weekend?" she asked jovially, and they both looked like they'd gotten whiplash from her abrupt change of demeanour.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend?" Ron asked slowly, as though still not quite sure whether or not she'd bite off his head for doing so.

"Sure is, Pipsqueak," she replied, and he grimaced at the name.

"What d'you reckon?" he added quietly to Harry as they both delicately shook off Winona's hold and went to sit down.

"Well, Filch hasn't done anything about the passage into Honeydukes..." she heard Harry say, and couldn't help but smirk to herself as she turned and left, heading back over to the twins, who were tossing crumpled up pieces of parchment at Angelina, awarding points for every hit on the head.

"You know, that essay on Chinese Chomping Cabbage isn't going to write itself," Alicia singsonged, leaning over the back of the couch she'd once more settled upon. Winona groaned, shoving away her still-unfinished Arithmancy charts and picking up a spare piece of parchment, halfheartedly beginning her Herbology homework.

Two nights later, and Winona was dragging her feet towards Trelawney's tower for their weekly lesson. The twins had offered to walk with her, but they'd gotten distracted by one of their schemes, and she was forced to head up there alone on a stomach only half-full of dinner.

She hadn't had many visions lately, but almost every time she went up into the Divination Professor's office she got triggered into one. She guessed it had something to do with the different incense and candles the batty old witch always had burning, but she couldn't say for sure.

"My dear, come in!" Trelawney rasped, appearing just as she lifted a hand to knock on the door. Used to it, Winona stepped inside and put down her bag, art supplies clacking together from within. "Tonight, we shall be working on _inducing_ your visions," Trelawney told her hoarsely, hands held up to the ceiling, each of her knuckles adorned with tacky, twinkling jewellery.

Taking a seat on the cushion beside the small table on the ground, Winona settled herself onto it, getting comfortable in preparation for the lesson ahead.

Trelawney turned away, reappearing a moment later with a tray full of foul-smelling tea. "Drink this," the witch said in her breathy, mystical voice.

Winona took the small, blue teacup in her hands, the porcelain warm against her cool skin, and lifted it to her mouth, taking a hesitant sip. It tasted just as horrible as it smelt – sickly sweet and painfully minty – but she choked it down anyway, watching as Trelawney happily guzzled the stuff like it were butterbeer on a frosty winter's day. She gestured for her to drink more, and Winona reluctantly took a deeper sip.

"It's sage tea," Trelawney answered her unspoken question, "mixed with powdered unicorn horn, essence of pixie brain and some Giant Purple Toad Wart. With mint leaves for extra flavour."

"Great," she murmured, voice thick with sarcasm that wasn't acknowledged, feeling ill at the thought of drinking such a concoction. She had to remind herself that she was a witch – ingesting those sorts of things was part of the job description. "And, _why_ are we drinking it?" she asked carefully, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer, now that she knew exactly what she was swallowing.

"To unclog the receptors and focus our inner eye," Trelawney rasped.

They fell back into a tense silence, Trelawney staring at her as though waiting for something to happen, which only served to make Winona more nervous. Neither spoke until even the very last dregs of the disgusting tea had been consumed.

"What now?" Winona asked, looking around as though she might find the answer amongst the Divination teacher's eclectic possessions.

Trelawney made a motion she'd become familiar with over the course of their sessions, one that told her to fetch her drawing materials from her bag. She did as she was told, laying her sketchbook and a simple pencil in front of her.

"Now, you must clear your mind," Trelawney finally answered her, fingers wiggling oddly along with her words. Winona wondered whether she had some kind of incurable twitch. "See _into _the future!" she exclaimed with passion, staring off into the distance with a dazed, wistful expression.

"Right," Winona replied skeptically. "And, how do I go about doing that..._exactly_?" she asked, desperately needing further direction.

Professor Trelawney sighed as though greatly burdened by Winona's ineffable ignorance.

"Relax your muscles," she finally said in a breathy voice, hands still wiggling in the air between them like they had a mind of their own. "Breathe in, allowing the air to fill your every atom," she commanded airily, and despite how ridiculous she looked, Winona knew it was in her best interest to just go along with the giant, glittering insect's words.

She straightened her spine but relaxed her shoulders, casting the room and its countless flickering candles one last look before closing her eyes and inhaling, doing as instructed by the batty Professor.

She saw nothing but blackness once her eyes were shut, but she hadn't known what she'd really expected, anyway.

"Now exhale, releasing all tension in your body," Trelawney instructed her gently, and Winona could hear her loud breathing as she followed her own orders. "Forget the feel of your robes on your skin, and the cushion beneath you – shed your physical body, and step into the next realm, the realm overlooking time itself…"

Winona was lost, but she continued to breathe as instructed, inhaling, finding herself calming. She tried to forget about the weight of cloth on her skin and 'shed her physical body', but it seemed farfetched and ridiculous.

"Keep breathing, Miss Andrews," Trelawney ordered in her usual, wispy tone. "Focus on the air filling your lungs."

With every breath, Winona was feeling more and more relaxed, perhaps even lightheaded. It was probably the incense swimming around in her head like a smog, the scents clashing, too-sweet on her sensitive nose. She hadn't realised it had begun to work until suddenly she noticed she could no longer feel the cushion under her, or even smell the herbs in the room.

Suddenly she wasn't in the physical world, but somewhere different, somewhere _else_. She couldn't see anything, but instead could feel things, possibilities, flying past her in the darkness. She had no hands to reach out and grasp them with, and she didn't know how to make one stick.

What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go from here? She couldn't even open her mouth to shout for help, though for who would she call? Who could possibly help her now?

A heartbreaking sound rang in her ears, appearing from the blackened fog like a dart, and she latched onto it with everything she had. She knew this was what she had to see, and she dove into it, knowing, instinctively, how to navigate herself through the encompassing shadows.

Finally she could see something other than darkness, but it wasn't clear. Her visions never were.

Instead she was met with flickering images, all cloudy and murky, like the bottom of the pond at the Burrow. There were voices, some familiar, some not, but they were all equally muffled, like she was listening through a thick door.

She pushed harder, trying desperately to break through the barriers that seemed so intent on locking her out.

"_12 years of it_!" a chilling, desperate, deranged sort of voice screamed, so clear and sudden that she felt her consciousness jerk back. "_In Azkaban_!" the person was bellowing.

Drawing on her Gryffindor courage, she tried to push herself forwards, but all too quickly the muddy images were slipping from her grasp like smoke through her fingers, and she was falling, her stomach heaving as she seemed to plunge through that inky nothingness, further and further with no end in sight. Just when she thought she was going to be falling forever, she landed, only to realise she hadn't been plummeting at all.

She was sat on the cushion in the dank Divination room, Professor Trelawney staring at her in rapture, like she were Merlin reincarnated – which was nothing new, the batty old witch reacted the same way every time she had a vision.

Winona swallowed, reacquainting herself with having a bod and, running her fingertips down her sides. Taking a deep breath, she released it with a loud, heavy sigh.

Trelawney had finally stopped staring at her, and was instead blinking down at her sketchbook with those insectile eyes. Steeling herself for whatever she was about to see, Winona looked down, eyebrows raising in surprise when she was met with the sight of Sirius Black in all his unhinged glory.

He looked exactly the same as he had when they met that night in the common room, when he'd said her name like she were a long lost friend. Only, there was something in the way she'd drawn his eyes, something that glinted almost similarly to _hope_.

He was in some kind of room, one she'd never seen before. It was torn apart, as though a wild animal had been set loose inside. There was nobody apart from Black himself in the sketch, but she knew, the same way she always did, that somebody else was there.

Trelawney looked ready to bounce where she sat with exuberance, but thankfully she reined herself in, merely tossing the younger Seer a thin-lipped beam. "How do you feel?" she asked eagerly. Winona nodded her head, but that only made the room spin.

"I'm alright," she replied once she was sure nothing would come out of her mouth should she open it. "I think I need some rest, though," she added weakly, but the teacher was already nodding her head.

"Yes, yes, of course," she told Winona hurriedly, scrambling to her feet and beginning to gather up their used teacups with the loud clacking of her delicate porcelain. "Head on off to bed, I dare say this is enough work for one night. I must speak with Dumbledore," she added quietly, and though Winona knew she was supposed to go to Dumbledore with her sketch immediately, all she wanted to do was sleep.

The session had _more_ than taken it out of her.

She called a vague but polite farewell to Trelawney, only the Professor was still muttering to herself determinedly, so she left the classroom quietly, making a beeline for Gryffindor Tower. She passed Nearly-Headless Nick on the way back. He tried to start a conversation, but she made the excuse of having to use the loo, escaping quickly.

The common room was still half full, people only just beginning to break away from their groups and wander up the stairs to bed.

She found Angelina, the twins and Katie over at the chairs by the window, chatting airily amongst themselves, doing a great job of ignoring the essays waiting to be finished on the table before them. She'd have liked to sit with them, but she was tired and her brain ached from the force of that vision.

"Winnie!" Angelina called, spotting her as she tried to inconspicuously slip up the staircase. Sighing, Winona turned, pasting a smile into place on her face so none of them would know anything was amiss. The last thing she wanted was to burden them with her problems.

"Hey, you lot," she said, attempting a lighthearted tone, dropping reluctantly into the only spare seat available.

"Did you hear?" Katie asked eagerly, leaning over the table to grin at her.

"You'll have to be more specific."

"These two here," she began, tossing her chin at George and Fred, "fed some Swelling Solution to Flint and his ugly minions!"

Winona wasn't in the mood to chat, but she had to admit, if anything could have made her feel better, it was the twins and their brilliant, ridiculous antics. "You're kidding," she said, turning to face the two identical redheads who were both beaming proudly. "How'd you manage it?"

"Slipped it into their pumpkin juice when they weren't looking, of course," Fred told her as though it should have been obvious.

"It was almost _too_ easy," George added with a look of mock-disappointment.

"And?" she pressed.

"Swelled to nearly double their size!" Fred replied eagerly, his eyes lit up with the excitement of the prank. "They started yelling like crazy, but their lips went all puffy, so they couldn't get out a word!"

"And nobody caught you?"

"Well, the Slytherins saw us near their table, but they have no proof it was us," George told her giddily.

"Godric," she murmured with a breathless laugh. "Wish I'd seen it."

"Where were you, anyway?" Angelina asked, looking curious.

"Detention," Winona lied with ease, and thankfully everyone who wasn't already in the know nodded as though this were completely believable. Were she anyone else, she might have been offended by how easily accepted the excuse was. Nobody asked any questions, either – probably believing it was safer to have plausible deniability, as they'd learnt from past experiences with the twins.

"You done the Herbology homework yet?" Angelina asked, leaning down to pick up her book bag and pull out a half-finished essay. The twins groaned at the reminder of work. "Come on, we _do _have OWLs in less than four months – we need to keep up our studies," Angelina added with a faint hint of sternness. Angelina, though nowhere near 'Hermione' levels of academia, was by far the most schoolwork-orientated member of their group. She was often the one reminding them all to complete their homework and study for exams.

"Exactly, Ange," Winona said with the same groan as the twins, she herself so low on the academia spectrum that she probably didn't even appear on the parchment. "_Four months_ – that's practically an eternity away."

Angelina rolled her eyes, turning to look at Fred with a kind of exasperated expression. Winona didn't care to look and see what expression he responded with, but by the disappointed frown on Angelina's face, it clearly wasn't the one she'd been hoping for.

"If I finish the essay now, will you get off our backs?" George asked Angelina, who recovered with an unconvincing smirk.

"Sure, Georgie," she told him with a sarcastic smile. George snorted loudly before fishing out his textbook and parchment. "You too, Winona," she added jokingly, the strange moment from before dissipating like vapour as she smiled.

"All right, fine," Winona groaned, pushing herself to her feet. "I'll go fetch my things, shall I?"

"You'd better come back," Angelina said threateningly.

"Witch's honour," she promised, tossing her friend a salute before turning and heading up the stairs. The dorm was empty except for someone in the shower, and Winona was relieved for the moment of quiet to decompress.

Dumping her bag at the bottom of her bed, she took a beat to breathe deeply, cracking her knuckles and shaking off the evening's activities. She got changed, pulling on comfortable old pants and a holey jumper, more than glad to kick off her shoes. Collecting her homework materials, Winona left the dorm, her bare feet quiet as they hit the stairs.

When she reached the common room, she found Fred and George waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "So?" they asked without waiting for her to greet them.

She knew what they were asking. "It went fine," she told them in an undertone, pushing herself up onto her toes to cast a glance over their shoulders at Angelina and Katie, who had been joined by Alicia, all of them munching on Cauldron Cakes and scribbling homework onto their rolls of parchment. "I'm tired," she added honestly when she noticed their expectant expressions. "But I'm _always _tired, so, what's new?"

"Maybe you should head up to bed," Fred told her, but she was quick to shake her head.

"My homework isn't gonna finish itself," she replied with only a hint of bitterness. Pasting a smile onto her face, she told herself to gather her energy, then playfully pushed through the pair of them. "Come on, Masterminds," she said, sticking out her tongue. "We've got essays to bullshit."

* * *

A few days later was her first session with Dumbledore. Winona found herself unexpectedly nervous as she wound her way through the halls of the ancient castle towards the Headmaster's large, extravagant office.

Dumbledore was going to be looking _inside _her mind. Who knew what he might stumble across? Would he see his own death, something she'd glimpsed at once in first year? Would he find out about her and Jeremiah? Worse still, would he walk into the memories of the pair of them snogging in a broom cupboard? She couldn't think of anything more mortifying.

Still, these fears weren't good enough reasons to back out of the lessons – and she was sure Dumbledore wouldn't allow it even if she tried.

Giving the password with a resigned sigh, Winona watched reluctantly as the looming Gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the spinning staircase. She stepped onto it with a grimace.

Dumbledore called for her to enter and she stepped inside, walking over to his desk and dropping her bag by the leg of the chair, taking a seat and crossing her legs underneath her robe. "How are you feeling this evening, Miss Andrews?" the Headmaster asked her pleasantly.

Although she wasn't in the mood for smalltalk, Winona replied in kind. "I'm okay," she answered with a shrug. "And yourself?"

"I'm well."

"That's good," she said lamely, for lack of a better response.

Dumbledore's hands were folded in front of him, and they sat in silence for a long moment before he began to speak. "Some things to keep in mind before we begin," he said, and she was glad they were getting to the point. "There are many ways to shield your thoughts from intruders, but it can be different for everybody. Some people imagine their secrets locked behind impenetrable doors, others build walls around their memories, constructing them brick by brick. You might even imagine a shield of magic wrapped tightly around your thoughts, blocking them from view."

Winona nodded to assure him she understood. The pit of nerves in her stomach only grew – she really hoped this process wasn't going to hurt.

"Do everything you can to fight me, Winona," he continued sombrely. "Your safety, and the safety of the Wizarding world, may one day rest upon you having this skill."

Swallowing around the uncomfortable lump in her throat, Winona nodded her head, and the Headmaster withdrew his long, elegant wand from his sleeve.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, blue eyes not twinkling as usual, but instead hard as diamonds. That, more than anything, told her how serious this was. Gritting her teeth and leaning forwards in her seat, she nodded her head once.

Dumbledore gave a barely noticeable flick of his wand and she was thrown into her own memories. It was a strange sensation, even stranger because she was so used to being thrust into the _future_ – never before had she been shoved so violently into the _past._

It was a rather dull memory, she supposed. There was nothing important in it, no information anybody would give a damn about. She was standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, a young girl of twelve, skinny arm wrapped around a large bowl, her free hand mixing the contents within.

"_Make sure not to let it clump together, dear_," Mrs Weasley was saying, a soft smile on her face as she kneaded a handful of dough by hand, teaching the young witch to cook without magic, at her request.

She'd tried cooking, but she was far, far better at baking. Something about dough and icing made more sense than sauces and spices, not to mention pastries were by far the more delicious option.

"_What if the oven burns my hands_?" her younger self asked worriedly, and she took in her small form, her ratty blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid, her cheeks flushed with heat from the crackling fire.

"_Then I'll cast a soothing charm and you'll try again_," Mrs Weasley told her with a smile, dropping a few drops of blue dye into the icing she was preparing. "_You can't let yourself be so afraid of the risks that it stops you doing what you need to do_," she added wisely. Young Winona nodded, understanding this to be true.

"_Are the cookies ready yet_?" lanky little Fred and George tripped into the kitchen, hands and clothes caked with mud from their assigned task of de-gnoming the garden. "_We're hungry_."

"_You will wait patiently or you can have some salad instead_," Mrs Weasley told them, and they gave groans of annoyance.

"_Hurry up, though,_" George said quickly. "_We wanna play a quick round of Quidditch before it gets too dark_!"

The scene disappeared, a with a jolt they moved forwards in time, but only by an hour or so. The trio were sat at the table, each munching on icing-covered cookies with a glass of milk by their side.

"_These are great, mum_!" Fred was saying emphatically.

"_It was all Winona, dear,_" Mrs Weasley said with a faint twinkle to her eye that made reminded Winona of the twins – she'd never have thought they'd gotten it from their _mum_. "_One day, she'll be the one making all our desserts, just you wait and see_."

George turned to look at her eagerly. "_If the whole art thing doesn't work out, you should open a bakery,_" he told her playfully, and she laughed with a mouth full of blue icing.

"_You'd think for someone so good at cooking, you'd be better at Potions_," Fred added slyly, and the present-Winona watched fondly as she gasped in mock-offence, tossing a cookie so it hit him directly between the eyes, making them all roar with laughter, Mrs Weasley watching on with a fond smile.

She came back to the present with a gasp, a pressure that she hadn't realised was there suddenly lifting from her mind.

"Did you feel me inside your mind at all, Winona?" Dumbledore asked, and she blinked at him, getting rid of the image of the Burrow's kitchen from behind her eyes.

"Barely, sir," she replied, shaking her head like that might help her clear the fog that had gathered there.

"I'm going to attempt it again, this time, do not allow yourself to get swept up in the memory, but rather, focus on the pressure in your head, the weight of another inside your mind."

Nodding, Winona steeled herself as best she could, gritting her teeth and watching as the Headmaster nodded back, then flicked his wand.

This time she did as she was told, paying attention to the pressure on her brain rather than the scene flashing before her eyes. She recognised where they were; it was third year, and she was sitting by the lake with Angelina, Lee and the twins. Angelina and Lee were lazily working on their homework, while Fred and George were tossing pieces of bread into the lake, trying to rouse the Giant Squid to the surface.

They were saying something to her, and though past-Winona listened with a trilling laugh, current-Winona blocked it out, focusing on the unfamiliar weight of another in the memory with her.

"Get out!" she shouted, figuring it was as good of a place to start as any. Dumbledore's presence didn't shift.

Taking his earlier advice, she began to mentally shove the memory away behind a locked door. The thick wood slammed shut, sealing the memory away. Full of pride, although completely exhausted, Winona was grinning victoriously to herself only to be blindsided when she was thrust, without warning, into yet another memory.

This time she was at her foster parent's house. She was sat at the dinner table, toying with the food on her plate as she listened to them argue. She didn't spare the time to listen – she wouldn't have wanted to anyway – instead she had to focus on locking the memory tightly behind a door where nobody, not even her, could reach it.

It was harder this time, her strength waning until it was almost too difficult to block out the memory, too taxing to focus on the feeling of Dumbledore sifting through her mind like a man panning for gold.

Thrust back into the present, once more seated on the comfortable chair on the other side of the Headmaster's ornate desk, Dumbledore put aside his wand with a small nod. Winona's breathing was heavy and her head spun, but she calmed herself after a moment, and it was then that Dumbledore spoke.

"You've made a good start," he assured her in his soft, hoarse voice. "You accomplished more than I expected, being this our first lesson." Winona nodded, head still feeling vaguely fuzzy. She longed to curl up in bed and shut out the world. "Go get some sleep, Winona," Dumbledore said gently, a kindness in his voice. She wondered how he'd learnt Occlumency, and if it had been as exhausting for him the first time he'd tried.

Glancing over at his large grandfather clock, she was shocked to see that over an hour had passed. It had felt like minutes! Climbing to her feet, Winona hefted up her beg, the weight feeling heavier than usual on her tired muscles.

"I'll see you next Thursday, Professor," she told him in a hoarse voice. He nodded his head, long beard brushing the desktop, and she scurried from the room, desperate to sleep off the more than strenuous night.

Now that she was having 'controlled' visions at least once a week, the amount of her accidental visions had steadily declined, as though it were a force that could be successfully channelled. Still, the odd prediction slipped through.

Winona found herself having lunch, munching on slices of apple as she halfheartedly sketched in her book a few days after her lesson with Dumbledore. She felt the vision coming, but knew staving it off wouldn't be easy. She glanced around, making sure nobody was paying her any attention (most people were used to seeing her hunched over a sketchbook) before taking a deep breath and allowing herself to be submerged in the darkness.

There were flashes and muffled sounds, nothing unusual. Then one noise sounded over the rest, loud and clear and completely unmistakeable. A scythe cut through the air like a curse, whistling before it hit its target, then an encompassing silence.

Jolting back to the present with a gasp, Winona could only look down at her sketch with a sinking gut. Her thought of the sound being a scythe was proved correct as she looked down to see a stump with a massive, murderous blade sticking out of it, covered in dried blood.

She'd completely forgotten about Hagrid and his upcoming trial with Buckbeak. She realised, with something of a sour grimace, that after everything with Jeremiah, she'd just gotten distracted. She felt like a terrible person, casting a bitter glare at the back of Jeremiah's head, glowering at his pitch black hair like she might be able to scare him into staying away.

As she'd predicted, nobody had seemed to try and disturb her. Her dorm mates were all back in the common room, going over their notes for the DADA quiz they had coming up, and she knew for a fact that the twins were up in the Astronomy Tower, dropping water balloons on the students below as they often did as a way to pass the time.

Looking down at her watch, she was told she'd only been out of it for ten minutes, and knew she didn't have long to get up to Defence. Shoving the rest of her lunch into her mouth, she hurriedly climbed to her feet, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading towards the Entrance Hall.

Despite rushing, she was still late walking into class. Everybody looked up as she noisily stumbled into the room. Looking up, she was more than relieved to see it was Lupin, and not Snape teaching the class today.

"Sorry, sir," she said immediately, casting the twins a glare as they sniggered at her misfortune rather loudly from the far side of the room.

"Miss Andrews," Professor Lupin greeted her, sounding pleasantly curious and thankfully not at all angry. Which was good because, y'know; _werewolf._ "Is everything alright?" he asked, eyes narrowed in something like worry. But why would he be worried about her? Did she look as tired as she felt?

"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Yeah, sorry," she apologised again, but the Professor only gestured for her to take the empty seat beside Lee. He didn't take any points, which was good, probably because this was her first offence, and he was cool like that.

He seemed to be avoiding her – maybe now that she knew the truth about what he was, he was embarrassed. Or maybe he was just worried she was afraid of him. Either way, he didn't call on her very often in class, and he even let his gaze skip over her when he was giving a lecture. Winona couldn't help but feel a little put out, and she hoped he wouldn't give her a bad grade at the end of the year just because she knew his secret. He didn't seem the type, but as a foster kid, she'd experienced that kind of cruel behaviour in the past, amongst other things.

"As I was saying: today we'll be working on Shield Charms," Lupin began once again. Winona sunk into her chair, trying not to think about Buckbeak's looming death sentence. Class passed quickly, and before she knew it she was heading back up to Gryffindor Tower to put her things away before dinner.

She ran into Hermione in the common room. She was perched at her usual table, writing an essay at a furious pace, like with every second she wasted her grade went down a letter. Winona looked around but she couldn't see Ron or Harry anywhere, so decided that the frizzy-haired bookworm would have to do.

"Hagrid and Buckbeak are going to lose the trial," she said in lieu of a more traditional greeting.

Hermione looked up from her work sharply, almond eyes wide with surprise. "How do you know?" she asked suspiciously, which irked Winona, though she didn't let it show.

"How do you think?" she asked in a deadpan, tapping her fingers to her temple in a move that was slowly becoming something of a signature. Hermione didn't look convinced, which was insulting to say the least, but Winona knew when to pick her battles. "Look, Hagrid's going to need your support," she said seriously. "All three of you. _Together._"

Hermione frowned at her words. "Why can't you stop it?" she asked skeptically. "If you know what's going to happen, why don't you tell someone and make sure it doesn't?"

"Doesn't work that way," Winona replied tightly, frowning at the third year. Hermione looked displeased by the answer. "Look, the decision's already been made," she explained frustratedly, hating it just as much as Hermione did. "Any day now Hagrid will be telling you. I just thought I'd give you a heads up."

Hermione was still frowning, but Winona wasn't in the mood to put up with it, so she just climbed to her feet.

"Sorry, Winnie," Hermione said before she could leave, and Winona turned back to her with a furrowed brow. "It's just…" she trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say.

"I get it," Winona replied. She didn't.

The dorm was empty when she got up there, and she was quick to dump her bag and change from her robes before heading down to the common room and out the portrait hole, following a group of fourth years from the Tower down towards the Great Hall.

She was only a few corridors away when a hand grasped her arm and yanked her sideways into an alcove. She squeaked with surprise, whirling around to punch her captor (who she assumed was one of the twins, because who else would do such a thing?) only to come face to face with a smirking Jeremiah.

"Oh," she said rather lamely, blinking up at him stupidly.

His hands were already resting on her hips, pulling her to him none-too-gently.

"Hello," she greeted him shakily.

"Hm, you're looking _particularly_ delicious today," he told her slowly, leaning in and pressing his face into her neck, inhaling in a way that sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't figure out whether it was a good tingle or a bad one.

She forced a chuckle, still feeling oddly numb from her earlier vision and the tense conversation with Hermione. "Come on, if we don't get to the Hall soon, all the cheesy potatoes will be gone," she said as lightly as she could, but Jeremiah only inhaled her again, his lips now brushing her pulse point. This time she decided the resulting chills were _definitely _good ones.

"I was thinking we could stay here," he told her lowly, his voice really more of a growl. Her skin prickled and her breath caught in her throat when he gently began to suck on her neck. "Isn't that a better idea?" he murmured in a way that might have been mistaken for innocence.

Winona was helpless to do anything more than hum in agreement. The way he was making her feel was too addicting to give up, even for dinner.

His hands slid down to her arse, and he gripped her tightly before moving down to her thighs, hoisting her up and shoving her recklessly against the stone wall. He pressed into her, and she could do nothing but gasp as he nibbled her sensitive skin.

Quickly, almost like there was a time limit, his lips travelled up to her chin, then finally latched onto hers with gusto. Winona moaned softly as his tongue licked at the seam of her lips.

It was a long few minutes before they broke for air, Winona panting rather loudly as she tried to control her breathing. "We shouldn't be doing this," she murmured weakly as Jeremiah ducked in to nibble along the curve of her jaw.

"And yet…here we are," he muttered against her peachy skin, and she could feel more than see the smirk sitting at his sinful lips. He rocked into her again, and she keened obviously, lost in the way he made her feel. She felt ridiculously naughty, necking in a hidden alcove of the castle with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, forbidden. "It's pretty hot though, wouldn't you say?" Jeremiah said almost smugly as he rolled against her once more, making her smother another whimper in his shoulder.

"Yeah," she agreed helplessly, arms wound around his wiry shoulders for leverage. "We should stop though," she said, desperately trying to clear the lustful fog hovering in her brain.

"Why?" he argued, once more moulding their lips together, making conversation impossible for another long, blissful, drawn out minute.

"Because…of dinner," she muttered once she had her mouth free, skin prickling as they pressed against one another. Her body had never felt so good, never felt so _alive_. The only thing counteracting her bliss was the heavy feeling in her gut, as though she were committing some unspeakable sin. However, compared to the way she could feel him rocking against her, it was relatively easy to ignore.

The guilt she could deal with later, right now she just wanted to lose herself in sensation.

"I want you," Jeremiah said against her lips, pressing the hard ridge of himself against her core, and without thinking her nails scraped down his back, making him jerk her closer. The words both excited and terrified her. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Was he asking for what it sounded like?

Her initial instinct was to say no, and stop things before they could take them further. But then he kissed her again and her brain went quiet, lost in the drag of wet lips against hers.

She'd never given much thought to losing her virginity, but one thing had always seemed to baffle her. It was a common conception that it had to be _special_ and _meaningful,_ but what did it matter in the end? Sex was just sex, and sure, it felt great (if her encounters with Jeremiah thus far were any indication), but did it _really _matter where it happened, or who it was with?

Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him, and clearly he wanted it as bad as she did. What could it hurt? Everyone had to do it at some point, didn't they?

However, the quiet growling of her gut made her pull away, despite the furious aching at her core. "Not now," she whispered to him, sighing at the feeling of his fingers roughly digging into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. "But soon," she assured him, feeling a wave of lustful excitement in her gut at the idea.

Jeremiah growled, not in frustration, but rather in desire, like her simply saying the words was the biggest turn on he'd ever experienced. It made her feel powerful in a way she hadn't expected.

"Good," he told her, moving in for one more bruising kiss, rocking against her once more in an action that almost seemed like a promise, then pulling away and running his hands down his robes, straightening them to erase the proof of their meeting. "I'll be seeing you," he said, his voice like gravel.

"Yeah," she agreed, feeling herself throb in a way she was only just beginning to understand, and he smirked deviously before leaving the alcove.

She knew the drill by now – she had to wait a few minutes so nobody would suspect anything – and exhaustedly leant her weight against the stone wall that she'd just been so deliciously pressed against. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she placed a hand over the beating organ like that might help calm its pace.

What was she doing? Was it worth it, in the end? Jeremiah was bad news, this much was certain. But he made her feel as incredible as he did dirty.

Once she was sure it was safe, she stepped from the alcove, relieved to find the corridor completely devoid of life. Running her hands down her soft woollen jumper, she pulled up the sleeve from where it had been pushed off her shoulder. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times, then swallowed and turned, heading for the Great Hall.

The tables were full when she entered, probably the last to arrive in the whole school, everyone halfway through dinner. She cast an inconspicuous glance over at the end of the Slytherin table, where Jeremiah was smirking at Flint, who was clearly making a less-than-kind comment about a younger student, from the way the first year beside him was looking.

"_There_ you are!" George exclaimed when she came to a stop at their usual spot.

She wasn't thinking and began to squeeze her way between Fred and Angelina, only to realised with an awkward huff that they were holding hands. Angelina shot her a light glare, clearly telling her not to interrupt, so she wiggled into place on Fred's other side, between him and Lee, who was talking animatedly with a bright-eyed Wood about Quidditch.

"Where were you?" George demanded. "We thought you might've fallen off the Astronomy Tower, trying to get a better look at the mountains for shading!"

"Ha ha," she replied sarcastically, helping herself to the dwindling plate of roast beef before it disappeared for the evening.

"You okay, Winnie?" Alicia asked from opposite her, where she was perched between George and Katie. "You look kind of flushed."

The innocent comment only made Winona turn a deeper red. "Do I?" she asked lamely, pressing the backs of her hands to her flaming hot cheeks. "How odd," she said, swallowing again and telling herself to calm down before pouring herself some water, hoping it would cool off her still-boiling blood.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Fred asked quietly from her left, and she turned to look at him, surprised he'd been paying attention. She'd assumed he'd been too involved whispering sweet nothings to Angelina to even notice she'd arrived.

"Right as rain," she lied. "And I just got caught up sketching," she added, the most believable lie she could think of.

The others looked convinced, exchanging amused snorts and rolls of their eyes, but Fred continued to stare, opening his mouth to speak, making Winona nervous. He knew her the best, and if anyone was going to see through her, it was _of course_ going to be him.

He was prevented from talking when Angelina tugged at their joined hands. His attention snapped back to her immediately, leaving Winona feeling cold, the fire in her blood abruptly snuffed.

She was distracted all throughout the next day. It was a Hogsmeade visit, and she travelled down to the Wizarding village in a small group consisting of George, Alicia and Katie. It was by unspoken agreement that Fred and Angelina had wandered down on their own, talking to one another quietly, far, far ahead of the rest of their usual group.

Alicia and Katie seemed more than eager to gossip about their brewing romance, but George kept making lewd jokes in a desperate attempt to stop them. Winona couldn't have possibly been any less interested, her head swirling with thoughts of Jeremiah and his stupid smirk and strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Zonko's or Broomsticks?" George asked her cheerfully. She turned to look at him, realising he had dropped behind with her, leaving the girls to giggle about the way Fred and Angelina were holding hands and 'staring into one another's eyes'. Winona had to swallow back a retch.

"Is there an option that gets me firewhiskey?" she asked him dryly.

"Win, it's ten o'clock in the morning."

"Guess it's just one of those days," she murmured back, deciding not to mention how the small hour of sleep she'd received the night before had her internal body clock all over the place. Jeremiah was driving her crazy, he dominated her thoughts when he wasn't even there.

"Settle for some butterbeer?" George suggested, and she looped her arm through his, letting him lead her towards the Three Broomsticks. She realised that, in the haze of activity her mind had been consumed by, she'd forgotten about George, feeling suddenly guilty. She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, soaking in the feeling of spending time with the one person in the whole world whose relationship with her _wasn't_ complicated.

They got settled in a booth at the back and ordered two drinks, sitting back and chatting aimlessly while they sipped their butterbeers.

"Was thinking of asking Alicia out," George said a few minutes in, voice quiet as he cast a glance over his shoulder, like he were expecting someone to be trying to listen in. Winona couldn't have stopped the groan from escaping if she'd wanted to, dread filling her gut. "What?" George was perplexed by the violent reaction.

"Fred's already dating Ange," she complained around a childish pout. "If you date Alicia, that'll just make me the fifth wheel. Nobody wants to be the fifth wheel. _Please_ don't make me the fifth wheel, George."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You could date Lee," he suggested slyly.

She pretended to gag. "I'd rather saw off my tongue with a butter knife."

George grinned. "Then Katie?"

"She's got a thing for that Matthews guy in Ravenclaw," she said, just as flatly. "Besides, no matter how convenient it would be, I don't swing that way," she reminded him, and he wiped at the froth around his mouth before grinning at her cheekily.

"How do you know if you've never even tried?" he teased.

"Go play Tonsil Quidditch with Lee, then we'll talk," she responded blandly, and he laughed.

"We _need_ to get you a bloke."

Thoughts flying to Jeremiah, she took another sip to stave off her blush. "I'm good, thanks," she said, and he sniggered. "I think we need to get _you_ a _bird_," she added playfully, and George rolled his eyes, leaning back in the booth as he sipped his butterbeer.

"Well, I've already told you about Alicia."

"Yeah, but do you actually _like_ her like that?" she asked knowingly, seeing through him like glass. Fred might have known her best, but she and George had a special relationship, too.

He paused, brow furrowing as he thought, like that angle wasn't something he'd considered. "Well, I dunno," he told her, and Winona could only roll her eyes as she traced a finger around the rim of her butterbeer tankard. "I mean, she's nice…and funny…and a great flyer…"

"George, _I'm_ all those things," she told him.

He grimaced, the mere thought of her in that way repulsing him. She wasn't offended, it was the same way for her, so she just sniggered, kicking him none-too gently in the shin from below the table.

"You've gotta give better reasons than that, Romeo," she said firmly. He was confused by the Muggle reference, but he got the basic gist of what she was saying. "What about that Keeper you thought was hot?" she asked. "Miranda Marshall?"

George immediately adopted a dazed expression, and she smirked.

"_That_ is the reaction you need to have before asking a girl out," she said, and he shook his head to snap himself out of it, before rolling his eyes at her. "You should never consider getting with a girl just because she's _convenient_, Georgie."

"Yeah, yeah," he said with the sigh of a troubled man, but she knew it wasn't more than a farce. His eyes suddenly grew wide, staring at something behind her. "Speak of Merlin, and he shall appear…" he trailed off. She turned to see Miranda Marshall walking into the inn, laughing at something her friend had just said. "Did you plan that?" George hissed at her across the table.

Winona rolled her eyes. "No, George, I didn't plan it," she told him slowly, like she were explaining it to a child. "But, you've gotta admit, my subconscious is _good_."

"Hey, George!" the Ravenclaw Keeper had approached, a smile on her pretty face as she called out to the wide-eyed twin. "Winona, right?" she added when George said nothing. Winona quickly nodded her head.

"Why don't you and your friend take my seat?" she suggested, already climbing to her feet.

"No, no!" Miranda said with a worried frown. "I couldn't-"

"It's fine," Winona assured her quickly. "I was on my way to buy some more Sugar Quills, anyway."

"If you're sure..."

"Really," she nodded, draining the last of her butterbeer and gesturing for the pair to sit. "George would love a chance to talk with you," she said. George shot her daggers with his eyes, and Winona smirked deviously. Miranda and her friend exchanged quiet giggles. "I'll see you later, Georgie," she added, ruffling her best mate's hair before turning and heading from the Three Broomsticks without looking back.

Either George would now worship the ground she walked on, or prank her so viciously she'd be smelling of rotten eggs for days. Either way, she still considered it a win.

"There you are," said a familiar voice. Winona turned with a gasp to see Jeremiah again, the Slytherin leaning against the wall of the Hogsmeade Post Office, a smirk on his face, skin slightly red from the still-chilly weather.

"Here I am," she agreed, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt. She looked left then right, glad nobody was around to witness the cordial exchange from two people meant to curse one another on sight.

"I thought we could go for a walk," he suggested, and, thoroughly confused, Winona could do no more than agree.

He didn't reach out to grab her hand, as she kind of secretly hoped he would. His arms remained crossed over his chest as they moved through the slushy snow towards the end of the village, where the Hog's Head stood in all its creepy, decaying glory.

"_This_ is where we're going?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked as she eyed the building suspiciously. She and the twins had been inside loads of times. Although, more often than not it was so they could discuss schemes that weren't to be overheard or bribe some firewhisky off old Aberforth.

Clearly Jeremiah didn't want to be seen with her, a fact which she had expected, but still hurt nonetheless.

He held open the door for her, which she thought was sweet, but the moment was ruined when he glanced over her shoulder, checking for witnesses.

"Fancy a butterbeer, then?" she murmured, stepping further into the slightly-less cold Inn, rubbing her palms together and wishing she hadn't been stupid enough to forget her gloves.

"Something like that," he agreed as he followed after her.

"Are you sure it's wise?" she asked, she herself glancing over her shoulder, scanning the pub for onlookers.

"Trust me, we won't be seen," he assured her lowly, and something about the rumble to his voice made a shiver run down her spine. She felt wary, a sort of cautious alertness running through her system.

Jeremiah headed for the bar, and she found Aberforth wasn't the man behind it, instead his single employee, a Wizard they simply referred to as 'Bob' was standing there, a glazed, bored look to his eyes as he blindly rubbed at a cloudy glass with a damp, stained rag.

"Thank you," Jeremiah said casually, and though Winona didn't understand, 'Bob' seemed to. He looked at him for one drawn out moment before pulling out a small key and handing it off to the fifth-year with a knowing nod. His creepy, beady eyes slid over Winona's form, and she felt uncomfortable, as though she wasn't wearing a thick woollen coat and her baggiest, most paint-smudged jeans. _Surely_ she didn't look very appealing, but Bob seemed to approve, shooting Jeremiah a sly sort of look that thankfully went completely ignored.

Finally, to her relief, he reached down and grasped her hand. He was wearing gloves, so there was no skin-on-skin contact, but her stomach fluttered just the same.

Confused and still wary, Winona allowed him to lead her up a small flight of stairs and down a dank little corridor. "What're we doing?" she asked him in a whisper, holding on tight to his hand, afraid if she relaxed her grip he might let go.

"Getting some privacy," he told her, slipping the key into the lock and pushing open the rickety old door. He gestured for her to go inside first, and with her heart slamming almost painfully against her ribs she complied, stepping inside the small room with a narrowed, cautious gaze.

It was a small room, obviously one the Inn provided as lodging. It had nothing but a tiny table below a small, mouldy windowsill, and a single, unsafe looking bed sitting in the far corner, covered in dark green bedding that thankfully looked like it had at least been recently washed.

She knew now what was happening, and all she could ask herself was, was she _ready_? Was this something she _wanted_?

She knew that the night before she'd been all talk, thundering along bravely like any Gryffindor would, but now she was faced with a dilemma; now, it was all terrifyingly real. She knew this was what he wanted, and who knew what would happen if she didn't agree? She didn't think he would hurt her – not physically at least. All she knew was that the last time she had kissed him couldn't be the last time she _ever_ kissed him.

What if nobody ever made her feel this way again? Then where would she be left? A thirty-year old virgin with no prospects and no love?

Sure, her thoughts were spiralling, but she had to admit, her inner monologue made some damn good points.

"Are you okay?" Jeremiah asked, and in the silence of the room, she could hear the faint sound of the lock clicking into place.

Swallowing, she turned, forcing a brave expression onto her face. "Fine," she said, smiling in a way she _really_ hoped was sultry.

The Slytherin smirked broadly, making quick work of his thick coat, shedding it to the floor then doing the same to his gloves, before looking at her coyly. Swallowing again, she moved before she could talk herself out of it, grasping the bottom of her jumper and pulling it over her head, leaving her in a simple white, paint-stained top, the sleeves dropping down over her hands.

Jeremiah's smirk widened, the lustful spark in his eye taking her breath away. She stared back, remaining perfectly still, watching as he approached her. Once he reached her, he grasped the hem of her shirt, slowly tugging it up to the bottom of her ribs, exposing her flat, milky stomach.

His fingers gently trailed over her belly and her breath caught in her throat, gasping at the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. "How'd you get a room, anyhow?" she asked breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut as he ducked in, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. "I thought students couldn't hire them."

"When you're a Nott, the rules usually don't apply," he replied smugly, looking back up before ducking in with all the suave of a seasoned lover, slamming his lips onto hers. She gasped into his mouth, his tongue immediately pressing against her own.

She was okay, she told herself; kissing, she could handle.

But then he started to tug at her shirt, pulling the hem up higher and higher, until it was bunched at her throat. Pulling back, he impatiently yanked it over her head, and her sloppy ponytail only got looser.

Breathing as steadily as she could to keep herself calm, she forced herself not to cover her chest as she so desperately wanted to, which was encased in an unexciting, plain grey, cotton bra. The hunger in his eyes didn't lessen, and without warning he swooped back in, kissing her firmly, one hand coming up to press at her covered chest.

She gasped, eyes open wide as he caressed her through her bra. "Don't go shy on me now, Lion," he said it against her lips so tenderly that her heart stuttered, and though the butterflies in her gut didn't go away, they became more pleasant, pushing her for more contact.

"I'm good, Snake," she replied breathlessly, and he smirked down at her again before pushing her back towards the simple, rickety old bed, which creaked loudly under their weight as they sank down onto the scratchy sheets.

Jeremiah hovered over her, eyes on her breasts as her chest heaved from the kissing. Not in the mood to stop, feeling like she just wanted to get started, she impatiently grasped at his shirt, forcefully trying to yank it up over his torso. He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, and another shiver rocked her body.

He was muscled, though lacking the abs that the other girls in her dorm seemed to think all the hottest guys had. He was, if anything, sturdy and built, and she would have been nervous was she not used to having him wrapped around her – although perhaps not quite so intimately.

She ran her fingers up and down his torso, feeling the skin tighten under her touch. It was strange, he didn't seem as affected by her and she was by him, but she figured maybe that was just how sex was, so she thought nothing of it. Still, determined to please, she pushed herself closer and began to wetly kiss down his chest. His hand curled in her hair and he sighed, but didn't shiver as she might have. He seemed to enjoy it, though, if the bulge in his pants was anything to judge by.

He had enough of that soon enough, pushing her gently back down onto the bed and returning the favour, running his mouth down the swell of her chest, at one point gently biting down on her smooth flesh.

Winona sighed, trying not to think too much and instead just lose herself in the sensation. Acting on instinct and things she'd seen in movies, she wrapped her legs around his waist, unintentionally pressing them together in the best possible place, making her gasp again at the contact.

He rocked into her deliciously, and suddenly it wasn't so hard not to think, instead her mind was filled with _touch, touch, touch_, and she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders to scratch at his back.

She was so focused on the friction between her legs that she didn't even realise her bra was being removed until she felt his hands on her unclothed breasts. Gasping, she pressed into him, stomach leaping as he gently pinched at her nipples, creating a sensation she'd never before experienced.

He kissed her again, and she finally understood what it meant to be so helplessly addicted to something that was dangerous for you.

When he broke away she was panting loudly, trying not to keen aloud as he began to kiss a path down her stomach, stopping gently at her bellybutton before heading to the zipper of her jeans.

The feeling of the zipper sliding down the teeth made her whimper, but he didn't stop until he was tugging the ugly old jeans off her legs. She gave a relieved sigh at the fact that she'd shaved her legs the day before, leaving them smooth and silky, which Jeremiah seemed to appreciate as he ran his hands from the tops of her thighs to the ridge of her ankle.

Her underwear were as unimpressive as her bra, simple and nude in colour, but she didn't have the time to care as she suddenly whimpered again when he placed his mouth over the damp spot growing there, throwing her head back at the feeling.

She felt awkward and uncomfortable with him down there, and the feeling only increased when his long fingers grasped the top of the underwear, slowly but surely peeling them down off her legs. She'd never been completely naked in front of anyone before, much less a boy, and her entire body flushed a soft pink.

Jeremiah didn't seem to be bothered by her apparent discomfort and swooped in like some kind of sex-god, crawling back up to her top and kissing her again, making her moan when his covered bulge pressed into her bare, aching sex.

"You've never done this before?" Jeremiah asked against her mouth, and, unable to form a coherent reply, Winona could only shake her head and give a nervous, trembling exhale. "I'll go slow," he assured her, and if she found it strange that he didn't ask if she was 'sure', she didn't have time to think on it, instead distracted by the way he was pulling off his trousers, his underwear coming with him.

He was larger than she'd expected, but again, there was no time to process anything, everything was kind of a blur as he made his way back up to her.

"Shouldn't we...shouldn't we use a condom or something?" she asked him breathlessly, trembling under his touch.

"A what?" the wizard was confusedly.

"So I don't get pregnant," she clarified, and she could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes before he leaned over and fetched his wand, aiming it at her stomach and muttering something. She felt a warm sort of glow in her abdomen but it faded quickly, and he was already kissing her again, successfully distracting her.

All she knew was that sex wasn't very pleasant. At least, it didn't seem that way as he pressed inside her, her head thrown back in pain as he worked his way into her. He was clearly practised, however, rubbing her clit in little circles, making a sensation like sparks travel along her nerves and spread throughout her body.

Jeremiah huffed once he was all the way inside, and Winona felt strange, never having felt so full before. It wasn't so bad, she decided as the Slytherin kissed her throat wetly. Then he started to move. It wasn't extremely painful, but it wasn't particularly wonderful either – the only pleasure she got was from him rubbing her clit, making her moan despite how uncomfortable it all was.

She felt connected to him in a way she hadn't before, and wrapped herself further around him, closing her eyes and focusing on the feelings she was experiencing, losing herself in this strange but nice sort of link that they now shared.

Soon, though she wasn't sure how long had passed, she began to get used to it, and so did her body. It stopped burning the wetter she became, and soon the slide of skin on skin began to make her moan. She gripped onto him tighter, fingernails dragging down his smooth back, causing him to rut against her with renewed vigour.

He made no noise, while she whimpered aloud, clutching at him like she was trying to find leverage, feeling him thrust within her powerfully, stretching her, making her ache in a terrible but sublime sort of way.

_This_ was something she could see herself becoming addicted to.

As he moved faster, so did his fingers on her clit, and he bent his head to suck at one of her nipples, which she would have thought odd had it not felt so superbly good. Something within her was climbing, growing higher and higher with every thrust, and her head tossed back against the lumpy pillow, lost in the ecstasy of the whole experience.

"Please, Jeremiah," she said without knowing why, but he seemed to know what she was asking for and rubbed harder.

Everything kind of faded away and exploded at the same time. She lost count of the moments that passed, but it was like electric pulses surging through her body. She moaned his name again, tightening her hold on him like without him she might fly away. Jeremiah reached his peak silently, but she couldn't find reason to focus, too blissed out by her own end, struggling to catch her breath once the whole thing was over, both coming down from their spectacular highs.

Jeremiah rolled off her, just barely fitting beside her on the small, supplied bed. They were quiet, both breathing deeply as they recovered. Winona reached up to brush her damp, sweaty hair from her face, and she turned to look at the Slytherin, then gently burrowed into his side, not wanting the contact to end so soon.

His next move surprised her, instead of curling back into her as she'd stupidly expected, he sat up, already reaching for his pants.

"That was pretty good," he told her like it was some kind of compliment, smirking as he climbed to his feet, beginning to pull on his clothes. Not wanting to feel exposed while he wasn't, she quickly gathered her own underwear and jeans, pulling them on hurriedly, something like guilt stabbing at her insides. "For a Gryffindor, at least," he added offhandedly.

She was shaking, even though she'd long since come down from her high. She pulled on her bra quickly, relieved to be mostly covered again.

"Same time next Hogsmeade visit," he murmured, less of a question and more of a statement. She blinked, pulling on her undershirt then gladly dressing in her thick, warm jumper. The less skin exposed, the more comfortable she felt. "Maybe we'll find time again before then, even," he added casually.

"You want to do this again?" she asked, voice embarrassingly soft. She cleared her throat and told herself to get it together.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, as though he kind of did, but in the end it really made no difference to him.

Still, she'd take what she could get. "Good," she sighed, her muscles sore as she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it from its now-sloppy ponytail and letting it fall lifelessly over her shoulders. "I do too," she added, just in case he wasn't sure. She watched him hopefully, but he merely adjusted his collar then turned for the door, yanking it open and waving her through.

Feeling kind of shellshocked, not convinced this wasn't all some kind of realistic, twisted dream, Winona could only follow him back down the small stairs and into the pub. The guy behind the counter was smirking widely, eyeing her closely, like he was picturing whatever Jeremiah had just gotten the privilege of seeing for himself.

"See ya, Lion," Jeremiah said lightly when they reached the door, gesturing for her to go first.

"See ya, Snake," she replied, but the usual teasing was gone from her voice, replaced instead by numb confusion.

The wind was far colder when she stepped outside, and she saw that it was getting late in the day. Knowing it would be a mistake to be out after dark – Dementors were now roaming the streets during the night, looking for Black – she hurried along, feeling an ache between her legs that she'd never experienced before.

She didn't understand what had happened, couldn't comprehend what she'd just done. She felt different, somehow; hollow. Did everyone feel like that after their first time?

She didn't bother sweeping the twins' usual haunts, knowing they were both more than likely back at the castle already. She spied Lee and a cute Hufflepuff standing by the Three Broomsticks, but decided not to bother them, instead tucking her bare hands into her pockets and hurrying on up to the great, beautiful castle.

The common room was only half full when she entered, most people beginning to filter down to the Great Hall for dinner. She intended to make a beeline for the dorms, but heard someone call her name and knew she wouldn't be able to escape unnoticed.

"We looked for you all day!" Alicia complained when she came to a stop by the couch she and the others had claimed.

"Thought you might have gotten lost!" Katie added with a laugh.

"Here I am," she told them dully, hands still shoved deep within the warmth of her pockets.

"Are you okay, Winnie?" Angelina was the one to ask, and finally the twins looked up from where they'd been hunched over a piece of parchment, shooting her looks of matching concern.

"Fine," she responded as honestly as she could, but her voice came out as a croak. Nobody looked convinced.

"You look...different," Angelina said, eyes narrowed in something that wasn't _quite _suspicion, but instead closer to perturbation.

"Do I?" she asked, blinking her eyes and swallowing around a too-thick throat.

"She's right," Fred agreed suddenly, his piercing blue eyes locked onto her, flickering over her hunched form like he might find what was wrong tattooed on her skin. "Something's changed."

"I'm fine," Winona said again, forcing her lips into something of a smile.

"Well, we were just about to head down to dinner," George spoke up, still watching her, but looking far less suspicious than his twin. "You coming?"

"I _really_ need to shower," she replied quickly, glad she could answer this question with complete and total honesty. "I'll meet you guys there."

"You're sure?" Katie asked, already climbing to her feet.

"Positive," she assured her, forming another weak sort of smile before nodding and turning, escaping up the stairs and out of Fred's familiar, piercing gaze, trying not to hate herself as much as she wanted to.

* * *

**A/N: So, I know some of you are going to be very upset about how this chapter turned out; but this has always been the plan. I haven't gone into detail about her childhood yet, but she grew up isolated and abused. She's very damaged, and although she gets love and friendship from her friends, when it comes to romantic love, she's only ever had bad, unhealthy examples. Nobody was around to teach her right from wrong. As far as she knows, sex _is_ love – there's no difference. **

**For Winona's character to go through the journey of growth that I'm planning, she had to hit this level…and it might not be completely over just yet. Honestly, it's going to get worse before it gets better. But it _will_ get better, I promise.**

**Thanks so much to Momochan77 for their review. It made me very, very happy, and I'm so glad you like my story and my writing. Hope you enjoyed this one, too!**


	27. It's hard to put into words

"Ten Knuts on Gryffindor to win," Lee was saying in her ear, and she looked away from the knot in the wood of the table to blink at him, taking a moment to process what he was saying.

"Lee, I've told you a thousand times, I don't care for gambling," she said with as much patience as she could manage.

"_You're_ the 'Seer'," he said with a teasing sneer, still not believing her, which was probably – definitely – a good thing. "Shouldn't you love it?"

Winona decided to ignore him, which, as she'd learnt over the years, was easier said than done. Thankfully, a sixth year spoke up from opposite them, drawing him into a conversation about Quidditch, which was all anyone seemed able to talk about over the past few days. The excitement leading up to the game between Gryffindor and Slytherin was stifling, and although Winona was usually one to get swept up in the rivalry of it all, she had more consuming things on her mind.

She'd seen Jeremiah only in class and at meal times, he hadn't sought her out as he used to, and it had been nearly three whole weeks. The Easter holidays had come and gone since they'd spoken, and Winona was sure it was going to drive her to insanity.

With every day she felt sicker and sicker, like all her shame was gathering into a ball in her gut, weighing her down and making her ill. She felt like an idiot, of _course_ Jeremiah was just using her – what did she expect? He was a _Slytherin,_ after all.

The only relief was the fact that nobody knew. She wouldn't have been able to handle it had the whole school learned of her romp in the sheets with the unfairly sexy Slytherin. But in a way, it was almost just as bad, being the only person who knew. She knew she could have told anyone, but something – probably shame – kept her from opening her mouth.

"We know, Wood!" her favourite voices were shouting over the noise of the full Hall. "We get it! Go eat your peas and stop bothering us about it!"

The twins dropped down opposite her, exchanging amused eye rolls as they started sweeping food onto their empty plates.

"Wood still going on about game strategy?" she asked, glad for the distraction. It felt like eons since she'd spent any time with them, and without realising it, she'd begun to miss them desperately. Fred had been spending a lot of his days with Angelina, George had been busy studying for OWLs, and she'd been distracted by her mounting guilt, retreating into her art like it was the answer to all the world's problems.

"If he asks us if we're sure our aim is good enough _one more time_," Fred told her through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, Harry's getting sick of it too," she nodded, gesturing down the table to the Boy-Who-Lived, who had a glazed, exhausted look to his eyes as Wood prattled on incessantly about points and Snitches and aerodynamics. It was enough to drive anyone off the Astronomy Tower. "You nervous about the match tomorrow?" she asked them, scooping herself out some apple sauce to go with her pork.

" 'Course not," George scoffed like the mere suggestion was ludicrous.

"When do _we _ever get _nervous_?" Fred asked with a similar snort.

"Around any girl with a sizeable rack," she deadpanned cheekily.

"If that were true, we wouldn't be able to talk to _you_ without blushing," Fred argued, then paused as he realised what he'd just said. George burst into loud laughter, leaning back and clutching his stomach as Fred's face slowly began to flush, tips of his ears turning red.

Winona smirked widely, endlessly amused by these two ridiculous boys. "Spend a lot of time staring at my rack, do you?" she asked him cheekily, wagging her eyebrows suggestively and leaning back on the bench so her chest was on clear display. Fred was flushed pink and staring up at the ceiling to avoid looking, George was laughing so hard he struggled to breathe, and Winona was sniggering with her chest still thrusted out provocatively.

And that was how the others found them.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" Alicia demanded exasperatedly. Their appearance made George and Winona get ahold of themselves, trailing off into quieter chuckles, while Fred remained red and silent, staring unyieldingly at the enchanted ceiling.

Angelina took a seat beside him, her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between them carefully. Fred was still getting ahold of himself, and Winona rolled her eyes, kicking him under the table, making him jump as the tip of her shoe came into contact with his shin.

Thankfully, the strange reaction and equally strange moment passed quickly, and the red began to fade from his cheeks as he realised Angelina was staring at him expectantly. "Winnie's a nuisance, is what's going on here," he finally said, shooting Winona a glare that lacked any real heat.

"Fred momentarily forgot I was a bird," she explained to Alicia, Katie, Hope and Angelina, who all looked varying degrees of amused.

"Must you be so crass?" Hope asked from further down the table. "_Bird_," she echoed in distaste. "Would you call yourself a 'woman', for once? Heaven forbid you act like a lady."

George laughed so suddenly that he sprayed Katie with pumpkin juice. "Winona…a _lady_!" he squawked like it were the funniest joke in the history of wizard-kind. Fred laughed too, reaching over to slap his twin on the back at the sheer hilarity.

Hope looked less than pleased by the display, but went back to her soup with dignity. It wasn't Hope's fault – she was great, and usually fun to be around, but she'd been raised as a traditional witch, so her values and expectations were a little…ridiculous to the others.

"I could be a lady if I wanted to," Winona argued before taking a deep gulp of juice then wiping her mouth on the back of her hand for effect. They broke out into loud guffaws again, and the girls all chuckled along. "We've just established that the twins don't get nervous before games," she began, spooning herself a few more carrots. "What about you three? Any nerves for the big match?"

"Just nerves that Wood'll skin us alive if we don't win," Alicia replied with a grimace that Katie matched.

"You'll do great!" Winona assured them.

"Yeah, yeah," she said with a roll of her eyes, turning to Lee on her other side and starting a conversation about the Potions final that Snape was already preparing them for.

Winona noticed Ange giving her an odd sort of side-eye, but she caught her gaze and it was wiped from her expression, a smile replacing it as she began to strike up a conversation about the World Cup that would be happening over the summer.

They got back to the Tower but nobody went up to bed. Everybody seemed to hover in the common room, supercharged with nervous energy for the match. Winona knew the twins weren't nervous_ per se_, but she knew they had a great deal of pressure hanging over their heads, and as such, they acted as they usually did when in that position.

They became giant noise machines.

They made up a game of tossing Exploding Snap cards in people's faces as a cheap sort of Russian Roulette. Then, when people began playing, they started shouting commentary out over the gathered crowd, even beginning to take bets from a few of the more excitable Gryffindors.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were camped out across the room, away from the bulk of the activity, and Wood was crouched in the corner, muttering to himself over a miniature model of a Quidditch pitch.

The Chasers were all gathered around the twins, more than happy for the distraction as they laughed at their antics.

"Step right up! Step right up!" Fred and George were shouting over the crowd. "Place your bets: who gets their eyebrows singed off first? Will it be Finnigan?" they paused to lift Seamus' hand over his head, "or Thomas?" they did the same with Dean.

There was a shout from the spectators, but Winona had lost interest long ago. The ball of horrible shame in her stomach grew by the minute, and although she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed where it was peaceful and quiet, she still wanted to support the team.

Compromising with herself, she sat by the fire out of everyone's way, leant up against the wall and alternating between watching the twins' antics and sketching a side-profile of Jeremiah, trying to get that smirk _just right..._

"Whatcha drawing?"

With a squeak, Winona slammed her sketchbook shut, looking up with wide eyes to see Fred leaning over her curiously. Glancing around him, Winona saw the rest of the team wandering up the stairs, Wood having finally cracked and ordered them to go to bed.

Fred seemed bemused by her violent reaction, but she just pretended it hadn't happened, shoving her sketchbook to the very bottom of her bag and beginning to stuff her pencils in their case. She turned once she was done, Fred's hand held out in front of her.

Pausing for only a moment, Winona took his hand. His skin was really warm, and rough with callouses from all his experiments, and she found herself unthinkingly comparing it to Jeremiah's. The Slytherin's were cool and perfectly smooth, like he spent his evenings rubbing in cream to keep them that way.

…She decided she liked Fred's hands much better.

He lifted her to her feet like she weighed absolutely nothing, and she smiled at him as she watched him reach down to scoop up her bag, holding it out and gently placing the strap on her shoulder. It was incredibly sweet, and she smiled up at him gratefully.

"Are you okay, Win?" he asked before she could step around him, and she rocked back, leaning her weight against the wall, warmed from the crackling fire.

"Of course I am," she told him, tilting her head back to get a good look at him. When they stood this close, she was reminded of how tall he was. The top of her head only came to his nose. "Why wouldn't I be?" she countered, tilting her head as she observed him, wondering if he really knew her well enough to know something had been bothering her.

"Well, the last few weeks..." he trailed off, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "You just haven't been yourself," he finished, dropping his hands only to shove them into his pockets in a familiar move.

"Haven't I?" she murmured, looking away, stormy eyes focusing on the window across from her, where she could just make out where inky tree tops faded into starry night sky.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" he asked softly, much more gently than he usually handled things.

She didn't want to lie, she wasn't even sure if she _could. _Swallowing, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug, trying not to even blink, because whenever her eyes were shut she saw flashes of endless, silky soft skin, and fingerprint bruises on her hips, and felt the phantom ache between her legs that had hovered for days.

_Stupidstupidstupid-_

"Win?"

"I'm fine, Fred," she told him, hating herself just that little bit more. She finally looked back at him, forcing the closest thing she could possibly find to a smile onto her mouth. His head was tilted down so he could look into her eyes, and in his own cornflower-blue gaze she saw endless, undeserved concern.

She suddenly wanted to throw up, guilt twisting in her stomach like the blade of a serrated knife.

"I'm gonna head to bed," she told him with a painful swallow. "Night, Freddie."

Fred didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue either. "Yeah," he murmured lamely, a sad suspicion in his eyes that just about killed her right there. "Night."

The next day dawned, but Winona slept through most of breakfast. She hadn't been getting much sleep lately, for obvious reasons, and she supposed it all had to catch up with her at some point. She was irked that neither Angelina nor Alicia had woken her up, but she knew they had more important things on their mind, what with the match and all.

The team weren't there when she got down to breakfast, and Lee told her they'd already gone down to the Pitch. He and Hope were heading down themselves, but she had to eat or she was worried she'd be sick, so she waved them on ahead and remained behind the chug some pumpkin juice and finish off her breakfast.

The Hall was practically empty by the time she left, so she ended up walking to the Pitch alone. It was quiet, and she kept her mind off less than savoury topics as she wandered down, winding through the castle towards the entryway.

"Hey, Lion," a smooth voice spoke, and her heart stuttered so violently in her chest that she was momentarily worried it might give out altogether. She swallowed, slowly turning on her heel until she caught sight of Jeremiah standing in a doorway, arms crossed over his green sweater, a large, seductive smirk pasted across his lips.

"Hey, Snake," she replied back, just glad her voice didn't fail her, even if it was a little shaky. She stared at him, taking in the dangerous and leering – but somehow still sexy – glint to his dark, dark brown eyes. "You're not down at the game?" she asked when it became clear he wasn't going to be the first to talk.

"Saw you stay behind at breakfast, thought I'd take the time to say hello," he said it so innocently, like they were actual friends and not just two people who'd shagged one time.

"How-how've you been?" she asked, cursing herself when she stammered, fighting to keep the grimace from her face.

He didn't answer, just smirked again as he stepped away from the doorway, tossing his head back in a move that clearly called for her to move inside the room. And like putty in his wonderful, skilled hands, she complied.

The classroom was old and abandoned, and although she wasn't sure what he was planning to do with her, she gently put down her bag of art supplies anyway, eyeing the stacked desks and chairs and the old, dusty blackboard sitting by the far wall. The only light in the room came from the windows, but odd sort of curtains had been hung over them, so very little sunlight seeped through, leaving them mostly in shadow.

She guessed he wanted to talk, which made sense, so she steeled herself and turned to begin the discussion.

"So, what are-" she was cut off as the Slytherin student swooped in for a kiss, lips crushed against hers in a bruising, possessive sort of way.

She shut her eyes out of instinct and lost herself in the feeling of his hands roaming her body. He coaxed her into kissing him back, and soon her own arms came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him to her as tightly as possible.

She was the first to break the embrace, reluctantly pulling away from his lips. "I've gotta get down to the game," she said breathlessly, staring up at the cracked ceiling as the Slytherin began trailing his way down her neck, one of her hands getting tangled in his inky hair.

"Why?" he grunted against the hollow of her throat, then moving on to nibble at her collarbone.

"I – uh," she broke off, unable to focus her mind on the task at hand. "I always go, to cheer on…the twins…" she panted, his touch like fire as he slid a hand up under her shirt, large palm splayed against the dimpled small of her back.

"Wouldn't you rather be here...?" he murmured into her skin, taking a portion into his mouth and gently sucking. She whimpered, her pulse racing and her core throbbing. "With me?" he finished, pulling away from her, his hands already pulling impatiently at her shirt, yanking it up and over her head.

She gave in, and it all happened very quickly after that. Their clothes didn't even come completely off, just pushed off to the side so each could gain access to their desired areas. It was different to being on the small bed in the Hog's Head, instead she had her back pressed firmly against the wall, the rough stone scraping her back with each thrust that she met with vigour, drinking him in like he was a pond and she was dying of thirst.

His fingers grasped at her thighs, keeping leverage for every gyration of their hips. Head thrown back as he focused on her clit, she felt dirty and frantic, held against the wall with nothing but a thin closed door keeping them from being discovered.

She barely had time to process it was happening, all she knew was the feel of him, long and thick inside of her, and the pulsing pleasure with every rub of her clit. He came first, but he was quick to rub her harder, quickly forcing her over the edge after him. It felt dirty and wrong but also so, so good.

His thrusts slowed as he finished, lips slanting against the column of her throat, and Winona suddenly felt boneless, sagging against the Slytherin with something of a satisfied sigh.

Jeremiah made a sort of contented sound before pulling out of her and quickly casting a charm to clean them off, then buttoning his pants while Winona leant against the wall, trying to gather herself once more.

"You're getting better at that," he told her like it was some kind of fucked up compliment. Not knowing how she was possibly meant to respond, she managed a shaky smile, running her hands over her askew clothes, then brushing her fingers through her tangled hair. "See you around," he added with a casual smirk, and just when she thought he might lean in for a goodbye kiss, he turned and left the room, strutting away like he had gotten exactly what he wanted…which, she supposed, he had.

She suddenly felt soiled and dirty and cheap, and although she would have loved to shower, she knew she had to get down to the Pitch for the game, which by now had undoubtedly already started.

She got down to the field as quickly as she could on her weak, shaky legs, led by the roars of the enthusiastic crowd. She was quick to climb the stairs, putting the events of the morning from her mind and hurrying onto the Gryffindor stands. She found Hope and her girlfriend sitting near the end, and shot them a weak smile as she took a seat beside them, turning her attention to the game.

It was fifty-ten to Gryffindor, but quickly Winona was learning that this wasn't an ordinary game. The tension that had arisen throughout the school was more than obviously playing out of the Pitch in front of them. Bludgers were more dangerous than ever, and the Slytherins seemed intent on causing as much damage as humanly possible.

It wasn't until Malfoy reached out and grasped the back of Harry's broom in a tactic that should have made his whole House ashamed that she realised how bad this game was getting. Still, she almost felt like she wasn't in her body, her mind half still in that empty classroom with Jeremiah, recalling the way his lips had felt along her collarbone and the way he'd moved against her, desperately chasing his own release.

She was so lost in thought that she'd forgotten to follow the game, and all of a sudden there was a massive, massive cheer that swept through the Pitch, and she turning her attention to the players to see Harry holding up the tiny, squirming Golden Snitch.

She cheered along with everybody else, but her heart was only half in it. Gryffindors began pouring onto the field, and she stood up robotically, following her cheering Housemates down the stairs.

With a great deal of effort she managed to push Jeremiah from her mind, focusing on getting to the others.

It was hard to fight through to crowd, thick and enthusiastic as it was, but she managed it, finding Harry first and swooping in to ruffle his untameable hair. If he grinned any wider he'd probably split his lip, and not even an overcome Oliver Wood sobbing into his shoulder could dampen his happiness.

An arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and with a gasp her mind flew to Jeremiah. Spinning around with wide eyes, she was both disappointed and relieved to find it was just Fred, the taller boy beaming down at her, sky blue eyes shining with glee.

"You did it!" she shouted happily over the crowd, and his grin widened, bending down to wrap her in a tight hug, laughing delightedly into her shoulder. She laughed too, unable to help herself; his excitement was contagious. She threw her own arms around Fred's shoulders, holding on tight and giggling as he spun her around. Once he finally put her down, she held on while her dizziness faded, then took the time to press a happy kiss against his slightly prickly cheek.

She pulled back, beaming up at him, and he was smiling back like he could die happy in that moment. The contented cheer was so intense, and the glint to his eyes was excited and eager, his grip on her tightening slightly, as though afraid she might pull away. She opened her mouth to congratulate him again, but somebody slammed into her side, effectively ending the moment.

Winona tumbled to the grass, and she looked up to see Katie on top of her, laughing in pure delight as she hugged her friend, her Quidditch robes dirty from the game, but neither of them cared. She hugged Katie back, then, for reasons unknown to her, looked back up at Fred.

An odd sort of weight appeared in her gut as she laid eyes on him, finding him wrapped up in Angelina, long arms curled around her waist as they snogged their victory. Katie spied them too and let out a whooping cheer. Winona forced her eyes away to see Harry now holding the Cup high above his head, the crowd's roaring cheers growing borderline deafening.

She joined in with as much enthusiasm as she could possibly stomach, throwing herself into the celebrations and trying her hardest to keep the shame from swallowing her whole.

* * *

Exams were pushing everyone over the edge.

Angelina had Alicia and Hope holed up in the library at every spare minute, studying for OWLs. She'd tried to guilt Winona into joining them, but not even the threat of failing her fifth year was enough to get her interested in schoolwork. She studied a little bit, just enough to keep her head above water – but in the end, she didn't care what OWLs she did or didn't get; she didn't need any of them to become an artist.

She was close with Angelina, of course, but there was always a slight disconnect in their friendship. Angelina thought school and grades were more important than anything. For Winona, it was more just a way to fill in time and learn the basics to control her magic.

So, it surprised no one when this tension came to a tipping point one night a few days before they were to sit for their first OWLs.

"You can't just stick your head in the sand this time!"

"Would you just keep your nose out of my business? What difference does it make to you whether or not I do well on my OWLs?"

"It makes a difference because you're my friend, and I care about you! These exams are _beyond_ important, Winona! You need to take them seriously!"

"I don't _need_ an O in Potions or Charms to become an artist, Ange! So what does it matter?"

"You can't operate under this fantasy that everything will just work out the way you want it to! Life takes _hard work_!"

"I know! Why do you think I spend all my free time sketching?!"

"Come off it! Even the twins are studying, and that alone should make you realise you're being an idiot!"

The entire common room was staring at the scene with wide eyes, bouncing between each of them as they spoke like rivals at a tennis match. The twins had stood up from where they'd been hovering over a table, bored stupid as they read through a difficult passage in their Transfiguration textbooks. Now their attention was solely on their friends, a rare, wary glint to their cornflower-blue eyes.

"Would you just fuck off already, Ange?" Winona hissed, growing more and more irritated with every word coming out of her mouth. She also didn't really appreciate being called an idiot in front of the entire tower. She had enough going on in her life without Angelina starting fights over OWLs in the middle of the common room. "Quit being such a bitch," she added with a growl, sheerly in retaliation.

Ange's eyes gleamed with fire. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when you end up even more poor than you are now because nobody wants to buy your stupid drawings!"

The room went quiet, nobody quite knowing how to react. Winona's hands balled into tight fists, her fingernails biting painfully into the skin of her palms. Her moonlight hair began to stand on end, crackling with dangerous, rage-fuelled magic.

Sensing the approaching fight, the twins were quick to throw themselves between the two furious witches, George placing his hands on Winona's tense shoulders while Fred stood in front of Angelina, hands held out placatingly.

"Alright, I think the upcoming OWLs might have us all just a little wired," Fred was saying to his sort-of girlfriend in a cautious tone of voice. "What do you say we forget the animosity and break out a deck of Exploding Snap?"

Winona leaned around George to glower at Angelina, her eyes like the heart of a raging typhoon, a promise for revenge if she was pushed any further.

Angelina seemed to realise she'd gone too far, the expression on her face more one of hesitant regret than anything else, like she were trying to come up with a worthy apology. Winona didn't have the patience to stick around and listen, spinning on her heel so violently that her long blonde hair slapped George clean across the face.

Shoving the portrait hole open, she all but dove out of it, turning down the hall and making a beeline for her favourite hideout for when things on the ground got to be a bit too much.

Angry, Winona's shoes slapped against the stone steps. The tower was empty – thank Merlin – and she moved immediately for the railing, pressing her palms against the metal, feeling it cold and firm under her hot skin.

The Astronomy Tower was her favourite place in the whole school. With its many open arches and thin railings, you could see everything in the whole valley, from the courtyard to the lake to the far-off mountains.

Usually at night it was filled with students studying Astronomy, but it was still quite early in the evening, the stars having only just begun to appear in the deep, velvet blue of the sky.

She took a seat at the edge, as close to the railing as was wise, then leaning forwards and pressing her forehead against the chilly metal, staring down over the sloping towers that made up the castle, feeling the frosty breeze brush her warm cheeks and letting its temperature slow her still-racing pulse.

"Win?"

She knew someone would come find her eventually, and she relieved to find that it was Fred's voice that broke the thick silence she'd settled into. She didn't speak, keeping her lips stubbornly sealed shut. She was happy to have company, but that didn't mean she was in the mood to talk about it.

Fred exhaled loudly and she heard his footsteps hitting the floor as he padded towards her, taking a seat along the railing beside her. Driven by instinct, she leant into his warmth, letting it chase away the chill of the approaching night.

"You can't let her get to you," Fred said it casually, like they were discussing the weather. He stared up at the darkening sky, just as she did. Rather than reply, she began to count the stars, a mindless task to keep herself occupied. She thought it was a strange thing to say about his girlfriend, but she didn't bother pointing it out.

His voice was careful and patient, everything she wasn't used to, and her lips tipped up at the corners, losing track of her counting before deciding not to bother. She very carefully considered how to answer, and eventually knew she wanted, more than anything, to tell the _truth._

"D'you think I'm smart?" she asked hesitantly, the words so quiet that they were nearly swept away by the wind blowing past them like waves crashing to shore.

Fred shifted backwards in surprise. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, and although she wasn't looking, she could feel his intense stare pressing into the side of her face. Reaching up, she brushed her windswept hair behind her ear. He seemed to realise she was serious, and his incredulous stare turned concerned. "You're the smartest person I know, Win."

It was a lie, but she was warmed by the attempt nonetheless. "That's utter horse shit and we both know it," she argued, a barely-there smile hanging, stationary, on her lips.

"Is that why you got so angry at Ange before?" he asked in a moment of rare insight. "Because you think you're not smart?"

Winona sighed, inhaling the bitterly cold air and exhaling a puffy white cloud that reminded her of the cartoons she used to watch as a kid. "Words and facts and theory…it doesn't come easy to me," she told him quietly, twisting her fingers together in her lap, staring down at them like they were more interesting than what she was saying. "I don't understand things the way other people seem to be able to."

"How so?"

She lifted her shoulders in a meek shrug. "It's hard to put into words," she said with a hint of shyness, her rosy cheeks melting a few shades darker. "I guess I just don't have the mind for schoolwork. I think in terms of brushstrokes and colour palates – it's like I was wired for art and nothing else."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Fred insisted, giving up all pretence of watching the stars and turning to face her. His gaze was fixed firmly on her face, but she didn't feel up to meeting his eye, keeping her own on her tangled fingers. "Win, the way you see the world, the way you think…I think it's _beautiful._"

Stunned by the open sincerity of the confession, Winona finally looked up to meet his eyes in the glow of the moon – the only source of light they had. She tilted her head, that little crease appearing between her brows, the one that always led to a headache, but that Fred had always secretly found adorable.

She considered questioning him, curiosity burning in her chest like a fire, aching to know more, to hear him elaborate and maybe call her beautiful again. There was a glint to his eyes that she'd never in a million years be able to recreate on paper, and his red hair seemed almost luminescent in the light from the stars. For once she didn't want to draw what she was seeing – she wanted to capture it on film so she could watch it replay over and over, forever, with perfect clarity.

But he spoke up before she could press him for more. "Ignore Ange, she's just under a lot of stress from OWLs – we all are," he said gently, and she blinked, the strange spell that had befallen them broken.

"Why do you like her?" she asked, quietly curious.

Fred was silent again and she caught him frowning as he considered his answer, before she returned her attention back to the stars, beginning to trace shapes in the endless sea of constellations.

"She's nice," he finally answered her lamely. Winona turned to look at him with raised eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on her lips. Fred let out a breathy laugh, unable to help it. She was always doing that; making him laugh. "I mean, she's wicked good at Quidditch, and it helps that she's downright gorgeous…"

"This isn't the most convincing pitch I've ever heard, Freddie," she told him with a small laugh that made him grin. It was so close to what George had said the previous month, about Alicia. The pair of twins were so alike in more ways than one. "Do you like _her_, or do you like the _snogging_?"

"Bit of both, I think it's fair to say…" he admitted cheekily, and she tossed her head back with an exasperated look at the heavens. After a moment of quiet, Fred continued on. "I s'pose, I'm with her because it's…safe," he told her with startling honesty.

Winona blinked, muscles locking into place. There was something about the rawness with which he spoke that made her afraid, like they were on the precipice of something huge. Like he was unknowingly trying to pull them both over the edge.

"Safe?" she asked, voice nearly lost again in the wind. "Since when have you ever done anything because it's _safe_?"

Fred said nothing for a minute, and she slowly turned her head to the side, finding him already watching her. But when their eyes met he didn't smile like she'd expected. She stared at him, breathless with the knowledge that this was her best friend, and that in that moment they could tell one another anything.

And the weight of that reminded her she was keeping a big, huge, monumental secret from him, and with every passing heartbeat guilt was pumped through her veins like a poison. What kind of friend was she, keeping Jeremiah a secret from the twins? She already felt disgusting, and maybe if she got it off her chest she'd feel less like she deserved to be thrown off the very Astronomy Tower she found such solace in.

"Fred-" she began in a shaky voice, but there were heavy footsteps on the stairs behind them and both students spun around to see Penelope Clearwater standing there, a stern look on her face.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked, her voice no-nonsense and prim.

"Stargazing," Winona replied without missing a beat, but she was less than impressed by the quick answer.

"Do you have written permission from a teacher?" the Head Girl asked with a sniff that reminded her distinctly of Percy.

"No."

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to deduct points and report this to your Head of House. Please return to your dormitory at once," she added, with a hint of nervousness, eyeing Fred like she didn't trust him not to argue and retaliate with a cruel prank.

"Sure thing, Penny," Fred said with a goading grin that only seemed to put her more on edge. He quickly climbed to his feet and held out a hand to Winona in a move that was becoming pleasantly familiar. She took the offered hand, smiling as he pulled her to her feet like she weighed absolutely nothing.

Once she was upright, he bowed deeply to the Head Girl, then wound his arm through Winona's and began to pull her away from the Tower. The pair shuffled around the stoic Ravenclaw, heading down the stairs slowly, making sure they didn't trip in the dark.

"Wanna head to the kitchens before going back?" Fred suggested. Winona couldn't help but notice the hope in his eyes, but she felt too tired and shook her head.

"Next time," she promised him. They were quiet again, then she couldn't help but ask, curiosity getting the better of her, "did Ange mind you coming after me?" She wasn't sure why she kept bringing Angelina up. Maybe it was because she felt like she hadn't _really _talked to Fred in what felt like forever, and she wanted to know as much as she could about him and his budding relationship with the brilliant Chaser.

"She disappeared up to the dorm," he replied, not seeming to think anything of her choice of topic. "Wasn't like I could follow her," he added with a shrug, and Winona felt an odd sort of sinking in her gut, like something about this answer had upset her.

She made a noise of acknowledgement rather than give a proper reply, and they faded back into silence. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, noting with a fond smile that his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, long arms straight and elbows locked as they walked. It was something she'd seen him do a million times before, but this time it was particularly endearing.

"Are you going to make up with her?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah," she said with a tired, heavy sigh. "S'pose so."

"Good," he nodded once. "I don't want anything coming between the group."

Her mind flashed to thoughts of Jeremiah, of skin against skin and heavy breathing in her ear. "Me either," she said, but even as she spoke she knew it was wishful thinking. She knew a rift was coming, and it was only a matter of time before they finally figured out her dirty, shameful little secret. She could only hope they wouldn't hate her for it.

"Dragon Pox," Fred said the password to the Fat Lady when they arrived, casting the troll guards stationed in front of her a narrow-eyed glance. The portrait inclined her head, opening and allowing them entry.

The common room was still half-full, and people stared at her warily as she moved towards the stairs, as though not totally convinced she wasn't going to shout at them, too.

"You know where I'll be," Fred told her in an undertone when they came to a stop between the two staircases. She didn't like the sombre sort of aura he had adopted, and turned quickly, pasting a wide, cheeky grin on her face.

"Once I've made up with Ange, I'll be sure to tell her how gallant and sweet you were, coming to find me like that," she said impishly, but it didn't have the expected effect. Instead of chortling and striking a ridiculous pose as she'd thought he would, the tips of his ears went red, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea," he muttered.

"What do you mean?"

He opened his mouth to say something, then met her eyes, faltered, and seemed to have an abrupt change of mind. "Doesn't matter," he said, bouncing back quickly, a sly grin forming on his mouth. "But, when you decide to strip down to your lingerie and have a make-up pillow fight, you'll be sure to take lots of pictures, right?" he asked cheekily, the wicked glint to his crystal blue eyes seeming so natural that she wondered whether she'd misread the last few moments entirely.

Scoffing to herself, Winona smacked him upside the head before stomping dramatically up to her dorm, feeling a whole lot calmer than she had earlier that evening.

By some stroke of luck, none of the other girls were in the dorm when she walked in. None except Angelina, who was sat on her bed, head ducked as she painted her nails, a frown on her face. "I said no, Alicia-" the dark beauty began, looking up from her task with a scowl that quickly morphed into a blank stare of surprise. "Winona," she said warily, probably wondering whether she was about to get cursed into oblivion – or rather, the Hospital Wing.

"What you said wasn't okay," Winona began, opting to face the problem head on rather than let things fester.

Fred was right, nothing was worth risking their group of friends. They all meant the world to her, and she was willing to to do anything, no matter how unsavoury, to make sure things remained the same. Angelina still looked wary, chocolate eyes flickering from her face to her pocket, where she knew Winona kept her wand.

"But some of the things I said weren't cool either," Winona added begrudgingly. Angelina looked surprised by the admission. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch. You're not, you're just trying to be a good friend," she said through gritted teeth, pride swallowed in an attempt to fix things.

Angelina's eyes softened and she screwed the bottle back onto her Gryffindor-red nail polish, leaning over and fingering through her stash of colours before pulling out a bright, glimmering blue and then patting the space beside her on the bed.

Equally wary, Winona complied, toeing off her shoes before settling down onto the bedspread, watching as Angelina motioned for her to hold out a hand.

A few moments later Angelina was expertly painting her fingernails in the sparkly blue she knew to be Winona's favourite, and suddenly the tension was gone from the room, evaporated like water.

"Other than being good at Quidditch, I don't really have any passions," Angelina was the first to break the silence. "I have nothing to channel my time and energy into like you do – a person can only spend so many hours a day down at the Pitch, after all."

"Tell that to Wood," Winona interjected slyly, and her friend gave an appreciative smirk.

"I guess, when it comes down to it, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up," she continued, a look of calm concentration on her face as she painted the pinky of Winona's left hand. "Not like you and the twins. You all have such clear visions of your futures."

Winona didn't agree – she had no fucking clue what she was doing at least 90% of the time without even bringing the futureinto it. Then again, thinking of the _future_ wasn't something Winona liked to do more than was strictly necessary (which tended to be more often than she'd like).

Winona was thrown by the new direction of conversation, but kept quiet, keeping her eyes on the nails that were slowly turning a glittering shade of deep-sea blue. "I grew up in a house of strict rules and chore charts and pocket money awarded for good grades. I guess, in some ways, I'm like Hermione," Angelina said this with a tiny shudder that made Winona grin, "I value academia, and it can give me tunnel vision."

Winona wasn't sure what to say, pursing her lips. Angelina moved onto the next hand.

"I care so much about you all that all I want is for you to succeed and be happy in life. The best way I can think to ensure that happening is through OWLs, and lists, and backup plans. I guess I'm just not very good at expressing it properly, huh?"

"What're you trying to say, Ange?" Winona had to ask, trying to make sense of the conversation.

Angelina's lips quirked up into a soft smile. "I'm sorry, I guess."

"I forgive you," Winona told her quickly, now sure it was true. "Can you forgive me?"

"Of course," she promised, and Winona grinned.

"Good, because Fred's just made it perfectly clear that I was to fix things immediately," she said with a humoured grin, careful not to move her hands from under Angelina's.

"He did?" Angelina asked, and though she couldn't see her face, Winona noticed her voice was carefully void of emotion.

"Yeah, he came and found me hiding up in the Astronomy Tower," she continued blithely, trying to pick her friend's mood up from wherever it seemed to have fallen. "Gave me a stern talking to," she added jokingly, secretly remembering it had been anything but; Winona wasn't sure Fred could even be 'stern' on his worst day. "You know how he is – never likes to see you with a frown on your face."

Ange glanced up. The look on her face wasn't peaceful, but instead rather troubled. Winona got the feeling she'd said something wrong, but couldn't for the life of her figure out what.

"What's up, Buttercup?" she asked gently, watching as Angelina pulled away from the task, Winona's nails now coated with shimmering colour.

"It's nothing," Angelina said, wholly unconvincing. Winona shot her a disbelieving look that made her huff. "I mean, it's kind of…stupid."

"Doubt it."

"It's just that you're so…pretty, and talented, and funny, and laid back, and tough…" Angelina trailed off, a hopeless sort of look on her face. Winona was more than surprised by the new direction of the conversation, blinking at Angelina in shock, trying to process what she was saying. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't really compare, do I?" she finished lamely.

"Ange, are you fucking kidding me?" Winona burst out, something of a crazed look on her pale features. Angelina was no longer surprised by her outbursts of language, but her eyebrows rose at the strong reaction. "I'm constantly covered in paint, I'm failing half my subjects, I have a mouth like a fucking sailor and the twins themselves call me a 'lost cause' at _least_ once a week!"

Angelina didn't look convinced, in fact, none of this seemed to ease her worries. Instead, the frown on her face only grew deeper.

Gathering herself, Winona breathed deeply and tried to veer in different direction. "Ange, no matter how great you think I am, it doesn't matter," she said, and her friend's brow furrowed further. "Because it isn't a competition," she added emphatically. "It never was, and it never will be. We're two awesome women, great in our own right, and comparing ourselves to one another is pointless and stupid."

"It's just…" Angelina trailed off, her eyes glazed as she glanced over her shoulder at the cracked door to the dorm, something else weighing heavily on her mind. "You and Fred…" she said, struggling to find the words.

Winona suddenly understood with frightening clarity exactly what Angelina's concern was. And it made her insides swoop like she was on a rollercoaster, but not with guilt. Maybe something closer to panic.

"Fred and George are my best mates, that's all," Winona told her firmly, meeting her eyes without so much as a hint of hesitation. "I promise, Ange, nobody's stealing Fred from you anytime soon. _Least_ of all me."

Angelina still didn't look convinced. "There's not even a tiny part of you that thinks you and him might...?"

Thinking on it, on the glances and tension between her and her dearest friend, she realised that there was a tiny, tiny part of her that thought maybe he'd been right all those weeks ago. That maybe she was destined to end up with one of them, after all.

But it didn't matter – she wasn't going to compromise their relationship in search of something more. Besides, he had Angelina – he was _happy_ with her, wasn't he? – and she had Jeremiah, secret though their 'relationship' was.

Whatever was between her and Fred, it was ephemeral. It didn't have legs to stand on. It would pass, as all things did, and they would find themselves going back to normal in no time. Even without a vision, she was sure of it.

Winona made a big show of rolling her eyes. "Come off it, Ange," she said dryly, forcing a carefree grin onto her face that wouldn't have convinced the twins, but seemed to do the trick for now. "But, if you ever feel the urge to compliment me uncontrollably again, I'm not gonna stop you."

The glassy look to Angelina's eyes vanished, replaced instead by that spark of mischief that made her so fun to be around. "Insult you, is more like it," she grinned. Winona beamed back, glad the strange emotional episode seemed to be over and done with.

Angelina leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing tight. Surprised, Winona blinked stupidly before realising she was meant to reciprocate, hugging her friend back just as tight.

"Thanks, Winnie," Angelina mumbled into her shoulder.

"Any time, Ange," she replied, honestly surprised her attempt had worked. Things seemed to be resolved, but she couldn't help but wonder exactly what had been going through Angelina's head in the first place.

And whether or not all she'd done was set herself up to break Angelina's heart even worse sometime in the not-so distant future.

* * *

Her birthday arrived rather unexpectedly. She hadn't exactly _forgotten_ it was coming, but she'd been so distracted by OWLs and Jeremiah that she was genuinely surprised when she woke up on a chilly March morning to a modest pile of presents at the foot of her bed.

She was the first awake, having slept so poorly the night before, and glancing over at the window she smiled softly at the mist that clouded the view, wrapping around the castle like a blanket. She was a sucker for a beautiful sunrise.

She didn't like opening gifts in front of people, so she was happy to have the opportunity to dig into her hoard without the prying eyes of her dorm mates. She peeled at the wrappings quietly, smiling as she uncovered each gift within.

Mrs Weasley had sent her a new beanie, hand-knitted wool a pretty mustard colour. She tugged it on over her sleep-mussed, butterscotch hair and smiled as her head felt instantly warmer.

She got, as always, another supply of Sugar Quills from Lee. The girls in the dorm got together like usual to buy her a new dress, one she liked but probably wouldn't ever have occasion to wear. It was pretty, a nice wine-red in colour, and shorter than she was used to – she had to thank them when they woke.

The twins had pooled together their money and bought her a new pair of boots. They weren't the most expensive on the market, nor were they particularly flash, but she'd mentioned needing a new pair since the soles of her old ones were beginning to grow thin.

She grinned, amazed that those two balls of distracting energy that were the twins cared enough to listen to what she said. That was why they were her best mates, she supposed, and she smiled wider as she tugged them on quietly, careful not to wake her dozing roommates.

They must have been from a magical catalogue, as she felt them adjust to her size as she stood up. They were simple, black faux-leather, and incredibly comfortable. Although they clearly weren't _that _expensive, she knew they would have cost more than she'd have liked them to spend.

She knew, however, that the twins would only be offended if she argued. The best way to proceed was just to be thankful and not mention the money. They'd be getting something equally as amazing for their birthday in a month's time. Harry, Ron and Hermione had chipped in and gotten her some Salt Water Taffy from Honeydukes, which was sweet of them.

The last present was one she hadn't been expecting in the slightest. A small box sat at the very bottom of the pile. Curious, Winona lifted the lid, blinking in shock as she saw what lay within.

It was a neckless, the chain a sparkling gold. Some kind of crystal hung from it, clear in colour and large, in the shape of a teardrop.

It was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but it was definitely not something she could see herself wearing. She didn't like big, gaudy trinkets, she liked things to be more artful, more thought out. Still, it was gorgeous and far too expensive to be wasted on her.

Bewildered at who would possibly give her such a thing, she picked up the card beneath it, scanning the words written in perfect calligraphy.

_Looking forward to seeing what it looks like on you._

_-J.N._

She repeated the initials in her head, shocked when she came to the conclusion that it could only be one person.

Jeremiah Nott.

She couldn't believe he'd gotten something so elaborate for _her_. Was this proof that she was more than a quick shag to him? Did this mean he wanted more from her, that he considered them more than just…acquaintances who shagged in empty classrooms on occasion?

Her mind was whirring with possibilities, but it all came down to one thing: this meant he cared, and that was all she really wanted from him.

With a grin, she fastened the delicate chain around her neck, fingering the pendant gently, half afraid it might shatter under her touch.

She spent the rest of the morning sketching, even breaking out her watercolours and stroking at the parchment to her heart's content. The others woke up sooner than she'd have liked, with Alicia being the first.

"Happy birthday!" she cried, launching herself at Winona who quickly shoved her paint out of the way so it wouldn't get knocked over. Her squeal awoke Angelina and Hope, the latter of which groaned in annoyance and buried deeper under her covers. Angelina, however, responded in kind, grinning at her friend happily. "Did you like the dress?!" Alicia was asking impatiently.

Winona was quick to nod. "I have no idea where I'm meant to wear it, but I do love it," she replied honestly, and the other two girls shared a look of exasperation.

"It's a _sundress,_ Winnie," Alicia told her slowly, like she were a bit slow. "You don't _need _an occasion to wear it."

"Thank you," Winona said rather than respond, turning her thankful smile onto Angelina, who beamed back. "I wish we didn't have Potions today," she said with a grimace, eager to move the conversation along.

Only, she never got to move along, because Alicia suddenly gasped and pointed to her throat. "_What_ is _that_?" she demanded loudly.

Startled, Winona looked down, eyeing the large crystal hanging from her neck. "A gift," she replied with a too-casual shrug.

"From _who_?" Alicia pressed, marching closer and bending down so she could get a closer look, eyes narrowed as she stared at it. "It must have cost a fortune!"

"Who would spend that much money on you?" Hope asked, now begrudgingly awake, her eyes on the necklace Winona was wearing. Her voice wasn't exactly unkind, but the words themselves were more than a little insulting.

Angelina spun around to glare at the other girl. Hope was nice enough, but she could be a little insensitive at times; then again, so could Winona, so she couldn't really fault her for it. "Thanks, Hope," Winona replied sarcastically, giving a roll of her eyes. Hope crinkled her nose but didn't apologise for the comment.

"Go on then," Alicia pressed eagerly once she was sure a fight wasn't about to break out. "Who's it from?" Her eyes suddenly went wide with excitement and she gave a gasp. "Do you have a secret boyfriend you haven't told us about?!"

"No!" Winona denied it instantly, and after a heartbeat to think, she decided she wasn't _technically _lying. Jeremiah wasn't her _boyfriend,_ and nothing they did together ever came close to being a _date._ "There was no tag," she added after a brief pause, glad she'd stashed the card in the bottom of her drawer where the others wouldn't see it.

"A secret admirer?" Angelina asked coyly. Winona snorted before she could stop herself.

"A secret admirer?" she echoed with a laugh.

Angelina smirked. "You're not _completely_ hopeless."

"Yeah. _Someone _in this castle has to go for you," Hope muttered from across the room. It was a tad insulting, but that was Hope for you. Winona was used to it, and she didn't mean it as rudely as it had come across.

"Geez, it's her birthday, Hope," Alicia rolled her eyes, turning to glare at the other girl, annoyed. "Give it a break."

Hope tutted but didn't argue, disappearing into the bathroom. "She's just cranky because I left my towel on the floor the other night," Winona told them with a huff, happy to ignore their uptight roommate's reaction.

They were all quick to shower and change, and Angelina transfigured a shiny crown out of a pillow, and Winona grinned, wearing it proudly on her head as they all wandered down to breakfast.

"There she is!" the twins exclaimed when they came into sight in the Great Hall, standing from the Gryffindor table and giving loud, obnoxious cheers.

People turned to stare, but being mates with the twins made you desensitised to the stares of others, so she didn't care, grinning and adjusting the glinting red and gold crown on her head as she met the twins for a group hug.

"How's the birthday girl?!" Lee asked loudly, as though the people around them might not have put two and two together.

"Hungry," she responded, taking a seat between Fred and Alicia and beginning to pull loads of bacon onto her plate, along with a sizeable stack of pancakes, then drizzled the lot in syrup and began eating. "Love the boots, you guys are the absolute greatest!" she said gratefully, leaning around Fred to cast George an equally large smile.

"Glad you like them, Win!" George told her, reaching around his twin to clap Winona on the back in affection. She grinned, leaning into Fred's side to give him a half-hug before turning her full attention to her meal.

She glanced up at Lee a few moments later, only to see his eyes firmly focused on her chest.

"My eyes are up here, Jordan," she barked at him, and the twins began to snigger.

"I wan't looking at _that_," Lee hissed, and if his skin wasn't so dark, Winona was sure she could have seen him blushing. "I was looking at the giant rock hanging from your neck," he added, and Winona smothered a groan with another mouthful of pancake.

Fred leaned around her to get a good look at the expensive pendant around her neck, and she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously.

"Ooh – I forgot to tell you!" Alicia exclaimed, turning to them all and casting Winona a sly look that made her wary. "Winona has a secret admirer!" she sang, and she was met with amused chortles from the group.

"It's true," Angelina jumped in. Winona glared at her. Traitor. "Someone sent her the necklace but didn't add a note!"

George and Lee began to make high-pitched 'oohing' noises, and Winona rolled her eyes and kept eating. Fred was the only one who didn't seem to be taking the mickey. "What if it had been cursed?" he asked lowly, so only Winona could hear his concern. The others were still making lewd jokes behind them.

"Why would anyone curse a-?"

But the words were like a switch, and suddenly she wasn't at the Gryffindor table anymore, she was falling through time, her mind leaving her body. She saw snow, it was all around her, pressing in on all sides, but she couldn't feel its chill. There was screaming, so piercing and panicked. Where was it coming from?

Flashes of green and gold, rusted metal and dark, sickening magic.

Arriving back in the present was somewhat like being dropped from a high cliff and free falling until she slammed into her body. She came to to see her plate of bacon and pancakes still mostly untouched in front of her, and everyone was beginning to stand to their feet.

Acting on instinct, Winona slammed her sketchbook shut (when had she fished it from her bag?) and quickly focused on her food.

"That was awfully rude of you," Hope was saying from across the table, and Winona could only imagine how her vision had looked from the outside.

Fred and George were hovering over her, and the latter quickly barked an insult that made the tall girl humph and move on. "You're back?" Fred murmured, and she realised he had his hands on her shoulders, holding onto her tightly, as though attempting to keep her grounded in the Hall with him – like she had any intention of floating away.

"I'm here," she promised, shoving one more forkful of breakfast into her mouth before standing and throwing her bag over her shoulder, trying to ignore how shaky and unsteady her legs were.

"You all right, Win?" George asked, holding out a hand to steady her. She kept her arms by her sides, too scared they might notice her hands shaking if she raised them.

"How bad was it?" she asked rather than answer. Her insides felt like jelly and her throat was dry, as though _she'd_ been the one screaming.

"They thought it was weird," Fred admitted, stepping out of the way of a hurrying first year. The Hall was quickly emptying, everyone heading for class. The bell must have rung while she was out, she realised, and she grimaced at the thought. "But they're so used to you zoning out that it was nothing new. We managed to convince them you were just fed up with the conversation and struck by inspiration."

"And they bought it?"

"Seemed to, yeah," George nodded. "Even if they didn't, the only other explanation is that you're a rude bitch."

"Great," she sighed, changing directions and making a beeline for the doors. "I've gotta go see Dumbledore," she told them as they stepped out into the Entrance Hall.

"It's that bad, huh?" Fred murmured curiously, casting a glance down at her bag, where the tiny glimpse into the future lay.

"Not sure yet," she replied, though this was mostly false. She wasn't completely certain, but what little she could glean from the vision wasn't pretty. "Tell Snape where I am?"

" 'Course," the twins assured her. "See you soon?"

"Shouldn't be long," she said, then pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to ruffle their hair before turning and hurrying up the main staircase, heading in the direction of the Headmaster's office. The password was _Lemon Drop_, and she thanked Merlin when it worked, meaning he was in.

Stepping inside the warm office was nice. It had grown awfully familiar over the last five years, even more so now that she was having weekly Occlumency lessons with the old wizard himself.

"Miss Andrews," Dumbledore greeted her from where he was hovering over a basin of water. Blinking, she suddenly felt wary.

"Is this a bad time, sir?" she asked cautiously.

"Not at all," he told her, wandering over to his desk, his ocean blue robes dragging after him. He took a seat on his large, regal chair, then picked up a small bowl and offered it to her. "Nougat chunk?"

Having only had half a breakfast, Winona eagerly took a handful, taking a seat and munching on the candy contentedly.

"What can I do for you?" he asked pleasantly, and she quickly stuffed the remaining nougat into her mouth before fishing out her sketchbook and opening it to the correct page. She placed it on the desk in the fashion that had become habit, facing Dumbledore, the sketch of the future laying open for him to see.

It was a necklace, large and ornate, some kind of heavy stone making up the whole thing, no chain in sight.

"Wait," she said abruptly, getting an idea. When she'd had the vision, the twins had most likely placed her things into her hands, but they hadn't given her any colour, so the whole thing was done in simple pencil.

Hurriedly, she took the book back and yanked out some coloured pencils, her skilled hands making quick work of the task as she added the green-blue colour of the opals set in the rusted gold metal.

She handed it back over a minute later, and the Headmaster peered down at it through his half moon spectacles. "It's cursed," she explained, and his snowy eyebrows climbed higher up on his wrinkled face. "Sometime in the future, somebody is going to try and kill you using this cursed necklace."

The professor was silent for a long, drawn-out moment. "I see," he finally muttered, utterly calm. She stared back incredulously, unable to believe how unaffected he was. "They don't succeed," he told her, and she could still do nothing but stare. "You've already shown me how I die, Miss Andrews," he reminded her gently. "Back in your first year, you brought me a sketch that showed me my end. I can assure you, it was by no cursed jewellery."

"But someone was screaming," she murmured, eyes glassy as she remembered the piercing screech of somebody cursed.

"So somebody _will_ be harmed, even if it isn't me," he replied calmly, still staring down at the sketch pensively. "Do you have any idea of _when_ this will happen?" he asked, finally looking up at her from over his steepled fingers.

"A few years from now, and it'll be snowing heavily," she revealed, feeling rather like a gypsy at a travelling carnival fair, giving out vague, enigmatic predictions for cash. She swallowed, banishing the thought from her mind. "But that's all I know."

Dumbledore nodded his head, then pulled out his wand to make a copy of the sketch. "Don't think too much on this, Winona," he said, utterly relaxed.

There were still questions pressing insistently at her mind, but she couldn't put them in order, still too wound up. Lifting a hand, her fingers closed around the gaudy pendant hanging from around her neck.

"Professor, Fred said something about a cursed necklace," she revealed, finally deciding on what she needed to say. "Then I had a vision about a cursed necklace." She paused, looking up at the aged wizard warily. "That can't be a coincidence."

"Perhaps it triggered something in your subconscious that led to this vision," he told her calmly. "It may simply be an indication that your powers are growing, as they always are." Winona hummed, dropping her pendant and looking over at the large, ancient grandfather clock that sat in the corner. "You should be getting to class," he said quietly. "I believe you're late for Potions?"

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore picked up a large, beautiful phoenix feather quill, dipped it in green ink then scrawled her a note excusing her for being late. He handed it over, and she took it with a grateful nod.

"Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, and he nodded his head, watching carefully as she picked up her bag and headed from the room.

"Oh, and Winona," Dumbledore called after her, his voice carrying in the otherwise quiet room. She turned, one hand gripping the strap of her bulging bag. "Happy birthday."

She smiled thinly, ducking her head and leaving the office.

Snape was less than pleased to see her saunter in late, but even _he_ couldn't dispute a signed note from the Headmaster, and grumpily sent her to join George in brewing the Draught of Peace. "And take that ridiculous thing off your head," he snapped, not giving her a chance to do so, merely flicking his wand, causing the weight of the transfigured crown on her head to disappear as he vanished it on the spot.

The Dungeon Bat then wandered over to his beloved Slytherins, hovering over them and awarding points for the absolute bare minimum.

"_So_," said George eagerly, keeping his voice down and continuing to effortlessly measure out his share of powdered unicorn horn. He always was the best out of them all at Potions. "Fred and I have butterbeer and the Honeydukes supply sorted. Lee, you're on kitchen duty, and Winona, you just need to sit there and look pretty. Shouldn't be too hard," he added, playfully charming.

"George," Winona groaned as loud as she dared. "You _know_ I don't want to have a huge party."

"Who said this was about you?" he countered cheekily, beginning to get started on the porcupine quills.

"Your birthday is just the excuse we're using to let loose," Lee said from where he stood on the other side of the bench, next to Fred who was stirring their potion, grimacing at the smell.

Winona rolled her eyes, beyond caring, and they fell back into silence as Snape wandered back over to sneer at their work from over their shoulders.

The day passed quickly, and thankfully with little fanfare. Nobody but the Gryffindors seemed to know it was her birthday, or, if anyone else did, they didn't care enough to acknowledge it. By the time they were up in the common room, the place was buzzing in anticipation of one of the twins' famous parties.

Someone set up some music and the twins arrived back with butterbeer and food. Everyone was getting into the fun, dancing and chatting as they nibbled on their sweets. Winona didn't feel like partying, but she didn't want to disappear completely, so she found Hermione reading near the window and took a seat beside her, losing herself in her sketching as she sipped at the pint of butterbeer Lee had fetched for her.

"How goes the studying?" she asked Hermione once her wrist began to grow sore and the music was making it difficult to concentrate.

"Terrible," Hermione responded flatly, casting the common room a look of irritation.

"Why don't you go up to your dorm where it's quieter?"

"I'd never hear the end of it from Lavender and Parvati." They fell into silence for another few moments. "How're you going with studying for OWLs?"

"It's..." she trailed off helplessly, "...going."

"I'm filled with confidence," Hermione replied in a sort of deadpan.

Winona cracked a grin. "Was that a joke?" she asked playfully. Hermione's cheeks went pink. "It was, you made a joke!" Hermione only rolled her eyes. "Keep it up Granger, and before long we'll be breaking you out of detention with the best of us."

Hermione was spared from responding when Alicia appeared at their side, tugging on a lock of Winona's loose hair. "Quit colouring for once and dance with me!" she said livelily, head already bopping to the music flooding the common room.

"I'm not _colouring_," Winona replied defensively, but Alicia wasn't having a bar of it, grasping her friend's arm and yanking her out of her seat. "Alicia," Winona groaned, split between annoyance and amusement.

"Come on!" Alicia called over the music, some kind of rock song with loud vocals and even louder guitar riffs.

"You _know_ I can't dance!" Winona yelled back and Alicia took hold of her hands and began to swing her around with vigour.

"Everyone can dance!"

"Except _me_!"

Alicia didn't care, pushing her away from her body and twirling her under her arm. Despite her dislike for dancing (and her severe lack of talent), Winona couldn't help but laugh as Alicia spun her around like a ballerina.

She wasn't usually one for parties, but this one had all her closest friends and favourite foods, so maybe it wasn't so bad after all. As she thought this, Alicia abruptly let her go, and she twirled around without boundary until somebody caught her in their arms.

Looking up, she discovered it to be Fred, who was grinning down at her with all the excitement of a House-elf given a new task. "Not so bad after all, is it?" he asked lightly, one large, steady hand holding at her waist while the other held hers in a sort of waltz position. The movement made her laugh as he began to ballroom dance with her to a rock song.

"It turned out to not be completely awful," she relented with a grin, and he beamed back like she'd told him she was giving him a thousand galleons. "Thanks, Freddie," she added, laughing loudly when he dipped her playfully, his strong hand splayed perfectly across the narrow small of her back.

He pulled her back up until they were both standing upright, and she quickly brought him in for a hug, winding her arms around his neck and pushing herself up onto her toes so she could properly embrace him. He held her back, and in his head the world went silent, as though someone had cut the music and everyone had stopped talking.

Then she pulled back and the moment was broken, she grinned up at him happily, utterly oblivious to the spark of pure affection in his crystal blue eyes.

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**A/N: There were mixed reactions to last chapter – something I fully understand. I knew the direction I was taking this story wouldn't be for everyone. For those of you still here with me, thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope you keep enjoying Winona's journey. **

**Reviewer of the week is _AGCrays_ – thanks so much for reviewing, and for your kind words – they made me grin like a maniac. I hope you continue to stick with, and enjoy, this story. **


	28. I had a right to know

**A/N: Here we are, at the final chapter for the Prisoner of Azkaban storyline. You're going to get a lot of answers in this one, as well as a few new questions. Hope you enjoy!**

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She'd been lying when she'd told everyone that she didn't care what her exam results would be. She cared, just not for the same reasons as everyone else did. She was painfully aware of it being somewhat of a catch-22. Either she didn't study hard enough, and as a result, failed; or she _did _study enough and failed anyway. Either way she looked like an idiot.

So what she'd decided was not to study while other people were watching, and instead spent her insomnia-riddled nights curled up in bed, reading and rereading passages in her textbooks, _willing_ herself to understand. It was easier this way, she told herself; even if it did exhaust her.

It was the Sunday before their first OWL when Fred and George became wise to her ploy.

"How much sleep are you getting?" Fred asked without introduction, taking a heavy seat beside her on the bench. Shooting upright from where her weight had been leant against the stone wall of the corridor, Winona's eyes snapped open. She'd been dozing in the brief moment of peace and quiet.

"Enough," she answered once she realised where she was, the words spoken around a telltale yawn.

Fred snorted in divided amusement and incredulity.

"What's going on then?" George spoke up this time. She blinked up at him blearily. He was leaning against the wall on her other side, watching her knowingly. "Sneaking off for late night rendezvous' with a new beau, perhaps?" he suggested. Winona was suddenly awake, the implication trickling like ice water through her nervous-system.

"No," she snapped defensively, reaching a hand up to her neck where a scarf was covering a rather embarrassing hickey given to her by Jeremiah the night before.

Okay, so when she _wasn't _covertly studying by wand light, she was meeting up with Jeremiah and letting him have his way with her in the many broom closets and empty classrooms littering the castle. She felt naughty and excited, sneaking around with him like it was some kind of forbidden romance – which, she supposed, it kind of was.

She'd jokingly compared them to Romeo and Juliet the night before; Jeremiah hadn't understood, nor appreciated, the comparison to a piece of Muggle literature. Things had stopped for the night rather quickly after that. She told herself it _wasn't _because he was disgusted by her less-than-pure blood. It might have been hard to see, but she was growing sure she meant more to him than a quick shag every now and again.

"Me think the lady doth protest too much," sang George.

She rolled her eyes and changed the topic, moving onto whether they thought she could get away with skiving on Binns' class in favour of getting more pie from the kitchens.

Winona had to admit that, despite everything, Angelina had made a good point. Exams weren't something she could just ignore until they went away – they were approaching with all the speed of a moving train, and if she didn't at least _try_, she'd feel even worse about herself than she already did. And really, the twins were right, who cared what anyone else thought?

Besides, everyone was so stressed about their own results, they barely had five seconds to spare to tease Winona about hers.

So although all she wanted to do was sit by the lake, drink butterbeer and bury herself in her sketchbook, she instead found herself crammed in the library between a frazzled Angelina and a half-asleep Alicia. The twins sat opposite them, alternating between studying and charming paper birds to nest in one another's hair.

Winona tried to focus on the textbook in front of her, a heavy tome on Transfiguration, open to a chapter on the _Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law._ McGonagall had hinted it would come up in the OWLs, and though she knew it was important, she still felt her eyelids droop with uncontainable boredom as she attempted to read a particularly dull passage on conjuring consumable liquids.

Her eyes had momentarily shut when she saw the first flash from behind her closed lids. With a silent gasp, Winona shot upright, eyes wide open as she focused on putting off the inevitable. Dopily, minds muted from seemingly-endless study session, her friends looked up from their books.

Winona shot the girls the closest thing to a smile that she could manage, and both looked back at their notes with tired huffs. Winona made sure to catch the twins' eyes, quickly tapping at her temple in a move that had come to be meaningful between the trio.

"Winnie, let's go find that book I was talking about on Switching Spells," Fred exclaimed suddenly, a little too loud to come off as casual. It made the girls look up again in bewilderment.

Winona wasn't sure what to do, but Fred was used to covering for her and quickly leapt from his seat, reaching down and grasping Winona by the hand. He yanked her into a standing position, grabbing her bag in a single swoop and dragging her around the corner and out of sight, leaving two befuddled girls and an exasperated twin behind.

Being so close to exams, it was difficult to find an area not populated by studying students, but Fred knew all the best hiding spots in the castle – even in the library. Blindly allowing him to drag her through the aisles, she thought vaguely that people might have thought they were looking for a place to snog. The idea made her snort and Fred sped up at the sound, probably thinking it was an outburst of pain.

Finally he found an alcove between the _Divination_ and _Dragons_ sections, shoving her into it and throwing her bag into her arms.

"Thanks Fred," she whispered to him, head beginning to ache from the strain of keeping the vision at bay.

"Don't thank me," he hissed back, making sure she was properly seated before turning to stand in front of her, acting as a kind of bodyguard. "Just draw it before your head explodes," he added, tossing a playful eye roll over his shoulder. Doing as she was told, Winona tore open her never-ending sketchbook, yanked a sharpened pencil from her case, and leant her weight against the wall.

Once she was sure she was comfortable, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply into her diaphragm, and finally allowed herself to be sucked under the unsteady, uncontrollable current of time.

It wasn't a very tangible vision. Sometimes her glimpses of the future felt so real that she was almost sure she could reach out and interact with them, but this time it was foggy and distant. She tried latching on, but it wasn't working. It hovered just out of reach. All she could do was listen intently, inner eye narrowed as she struggled to make sense of the flashes blinking across her vision like powerful, fleeting forks of lightning.

As usual, she wasn't aware of her physical body until she came out of it, and when she finally came to, there was a large, accurately drawn picture on the paper before her.

Someone was crouched to the ground, looking up at a standing Harry, who was smiling widely, their hand pressed against the Boy-Who-Lived's chest in a tender gesture. She didn't understand – she couldn't see this mystery person's face, but from the ugly, dirty prison robes he was wearing, and the long, tangled mess of inky hair, she could make a pretty accurate guess.

Why was Sirius Black sharing a moment with Harry, and why wasn't Harry screaming or fighting back? Why was he _smiling _as though Black was the greatest thing that'd ever happened to him? Why had the vision been murky and distant, like nothing about it was decided yet?

"Win?" Fred's voice murmured, and she looked up from her blindly drawn artwork to blink up at him in surprise. "Oh, thank Merlin. You're back," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Madam Pince came by – I panicked and told her you were having 'lady problems', so she went to fetch Pomfrey," he explained, reaching out a hand to help her off the floor.

She took it gratefully, his warm, calloused skin grounding her more than anything else ever could. He hefted her to her feet, and then held out a hand for the sketch. She handed it over instantly, and he frowned as he stared down at the snapshot of days to come.

"No idea what it means," she answered his unspoken question. "Don't know when it's meant to happen, either," she added with a frustrated scowl, taking the sketchbook back and tucking it into her bag before grasping Fred by the arm and tugging him out of the alcove. "Let's get out of here before Pomfrey forces a Pepper-Up Potion down my throat."

"I'll go get George – we can finish studying in the courtyard or something."

"I'll meet you there," she agreed, smiling at him gratefully once more before turning and darting from the library, making sure to stay out of sight in case the school nurse appeared with any unnecessary potions for her to drink.

She was only a hallway away from the library when she ran into Hermione. The younger girl was, predictably, making a beeline for the library, three thick, heavy tomes in her small arms. "Hey 'Mione," she said, noting the frazzled look on her face, hair even more wild than usual, as though it was where she was carrying all of her anxiety.

"Hi, Winona," Hermione greeted her distractedly, mind clearly elsewhere, lids heavy with exhaustion.

"You look dead on your feet," Winona told her without preamble. Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet hers, a frown in their depths.

"So should you," she responded sharply, casting Winona a narrow-eyed look of glaring disapproval. "Are you prepared for your OWLs?" she asked, casting another look that made it obvious she was referring to her row with Angelina in the common room only a few days previous.

"Getting there," Winona said calmly, rather than rise to the bait. She knew Hermione was just overwhelmed with all her extra classes – she couldn't even imagine taking every single class Hogwarts offered at once. Most days Winona thought Hermione walked the line of brave and stupid, much like Harry and Ron, who somehow got into more trouble than the twins and herself, combined.

At the cool response the fight seemed to drain from Hermione, who suddenly looked apologetic for her sharpness. "You'll do well, I'm sure," she said quietly, shoulders drooped with exhaustion. Winona didn't necessarily think she believed what she was saying, but she appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"You're going to do amazing on your exams too, Hermione," Winona told her gently, trying to erase the wild glint to her eyes. It didn't disappear, but it did ease slightly, so she counted it as a win.

Hermione smiled gratefully, readjusting her grip on the textbooks cradled in her hands. She was about to let the girl go, knowing she probably wanted to get back to studying, but she began to talk, surprising Winona. "Buckbeak's appeal is set for the sixth," she said, and guilt flooded Winona like the thundering rapids of a gushing river.

She could tell by the resigned sort of tone to her voice that there was more to the story. "And?" Winona pressed. "That means there's still a chance, isn't there?"

Hermione was already shaking her head, her eyes glassy. "They're bringing the executioner with them," she revealed sadly. "They've already decided."

"I'm sorry I haven't done more to help," Winona said. "I guess I just got caught up in my own problems…" she added remorsefully. "But that's no excuse."

"It's okay," Hermione murmured, eyes seeming to inflate with her sadness. "I don't think there was anything anyone could have done, not once _Lucius Malfoy_ got involved," she spat the name with a bitter hatred that surprised Winona, but it was one she understood.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the image of one of her recent visions floated into her mind, and she paused, eyes going glassy as she focused on it. Buckbeak was going to be okay. She knew this, as she always did; in her gut.

"Maybe there's more hope than you think," she murmured to Hermione, whose brow furrowed at the statement.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, thrown by the words.

Winona cracked a small smile, the expression so gentle that it was jarring against the rush of anxious panic filling the school this close to exams. "There's _always_ hope," she said warmly. Hermione could only stare. Winona smiled once more, deciding to leave her to her studying. "See you, 'Mione," she said, patting the shorter girl on the shoulder before heading away, eager to meet up with the boys in the courtyard; even if it would bring more studying with it.

The days seemed to slip through her fingers like water, and before she knew it, OWLs were upon them.

"I think Ange is going to have a nervous breakdown," she told the twins as they left the common room, making their way up the stairs towards the Great Hall, where they were to sit for the written portion of their very first OWL.

They all looked ahead to where Ange was walking, hands tapping anxiously on her legs, a look of frustration on her face as she muttered under her breath, much like Wood might before a big Quidditch match.

"Maybe you should go _comfort _her, Freddie," George added slyly. Fred rolled his eyes.

"Tried that last night, she nearly bit my head off. You'd think she were Granger with how stressed she is for these OWLs."

"Which head?" George asked with a massive, shit-eating grin.

Winona gasped, then broke out into loud, roaring laughter, having to hang onto George's arm in an attempt to keep herself upright. Fred snorted, giving his twin a shove, a loud guffaw escaping him.

By the time they arrived at the Great Hall they were all still in stitches. People around them stared like they seemed crazy, and Flitwick opened the door to narrow his beady little eyes at them.

"Please, get ahold of yourselves," he said in his squeaky little voice, a look of exasperation on his face. He was far too used to this happening to be surprised, or to bother asking what was so funny.

Pinching one another in an attempt to stop laughing, eventually they quieted, and once they had, the Charms professor let everyone into the Hall. The House tables were gone, replaced by rows and rows of individual desks.

Taking their seats, Winona avoided looking at the boys to keep from breaking out into any more childish giggles.

"You have one hour and thirty minutes to complete the written portion of this exam," said the moderator, a tall witch with hair as dark as night and an awful scowl on her face, without even introducing herself first.

Leaning over her test, Winona summoned all the Gryffindor courage she could physically handle, picked up her quill, and began to write.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Angelina was saying as they filed from the Hall, an hour to go until lunch, then they'd be moving on to the practical portion of the exam. "How'd you do?" she asked the rest of the group at large, and she was met with replies that varied in degrees of confidence.

Alicia responded and the pair began to talk about their answers regarding the Levitation Charm, while Winona dropped back to keep step with the twins, who were snickering about something or other at the back of the group.

"We're alive!" Fred exclaimed rather theatrically when he saw her, and a passing first year gave a terrified squeak at the sudden outburst. Fred threw an arm over her shoulder, ruffling Winona's hair, and she shoved him off with a playful hiss.

"How'd you do?" George asked, more restrained than his twin.

"Completely forgot the theory behind the Cheering Charm," she admitted with a scowl, glancing over at the others to be sure they couldn't overhear. They were all focused on teasing Lee for passing wind in the middle of the exam. He said it was on purpose, for a laugh, but Winona could see the embarrassment in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," George said dismissively. "You'll completely _ace_ the practical portion this afternoon. I'm sure of it."

"Thanks, Georgie," she murmured, hoping he was right. "What about you two? Think you'll be getting an OWL?"

"Oh, definitely," Fred nodded seriously, "I made that test my bitch."

Winona let out a surprised laugh, ducking out from under his arm to poke him in the stomach, making him flinch. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Fred Weasley's good at everything." Fred beamed proudly, putting his hands on his hips and staring out into the distance majestically. "Except simple maths and pleasing a woman," she added in a rush, and his smug, superior expression melted into one of shock.

George snorted, and Winona grinned delightedly, poking her tongue out at Fred, who lunged at her. She danced out of the way, racing to catch up with the others, using Lee as a human shield.

The two weeks of OWLs went by so fast that if you blinked, you'd have surely missed it. She did awfully at both portions of the Transfiguration exam, her Vanishing Spell ended up working more like a Severing Charm, as only half her pineapple disappeared. Herbology was just as much of a train wreck – her Fanged Geranium bit into her index finger, making her bleed.

Defence was probably her best test in the whole first week; the written part was difficult, and she struggled through it, but she was positive she did well at the practical portion. Sure, her Counter-Jinxes weren't anything to brag about, but her Defensive Spells most certainly were – she pulled off _Reducto_ so well that the test dummy was rendered to ash. She cast a perfect _Riddikulus _in spite of that near-disastrous first day in DADA, and so she walked out of the test feeling a hell of a lot better than when she'd walked in.

Thankfully, she had Friday off, and although the others wanted to go play Gobstones by the Lake, Winona was keen to spend some time sketching. She liked to do as much towards the end of the year; take the time to sit in the quiet, somewhere she could see the mountains, soaking it all in before she had to go back to her hellish summertime accomodations.

She supposed she was probably growing predictable – that, or she subconsciously wanted Jeremiah to find her, because she chose her usual spot, and soon enough the Slytherin fifth year himself was sauntering up, his black school robes flowing around him like a cape in a comic book.

"Where've you been hiding?" he purred as he reached her, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was around before ducking in to press his lips to her pulse point.

Breath leaving her lungs in a helpless puff, Winona's eyes slid shut as she leant into the contact, her concentration disappearing, the rough sketch of a unicorn laying forgotten in her lap. "I've missed you," she murmured as he nibbled her sensitive skin.

He hummed in acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond, thick, strong arms winding around her middle and tugging her to him. Her back pressed against his front, and his fingers began to creep up under her jumper, running along the underwire of her bra.

She sighed again, leaning into the touch, but he unexpectedly pulled away. Spinning around to look at him, he was heading across the corridor, towards the empty classroom they'd used for their rendezvous before. A thrill of excitement filled her, and Winona swallowed, but before they could reach it a familiar voice was calling out her name, and both fifth years froze with a sinking knowledge that they'd been caught.

It was Harry, but to Winona's relief he hadn't seemed to notice anything suspicious. He was jogging up to them, a panicked sort of worry splashed across his face. Concern swelling in her gut, she turned to say goodbye to Jeremiah only to find him already halfway down the hall in the opposite direction.

Pursing her lips, she bit back a sigh of disappointment and turned back to an alarmed-looking Harry. "Wotcher," she greeted him once he came to a stop in front of her. "How'd your exams go?"

But Harry wasn't in the mood for smalltalk.

"Have you seen anything in the future? Anything about tonight? Anything at all about Voldemort or his followers?" he blurted, staring at her with warring hope and dread.

Winona's eyes went wide at the question, and she scanned the hallway to make sure they were really alone before nodding Harry over to the bench at the far wall, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Where's this coming from?" she asked, patient and concerned.

"Have you _seen_ anything?" he asked again, seemingly in a hurry as he didn't answer the question.

Frowning, she began to dig in her bag, rooting around in search of her sketchbook. "Tell me what's wrong and I'll show you what I've drawn," she bargained.

Harry took a deep sigh, and she noticed a tightness around his eyes. He was worried and tense, like something had seriously spooked him. "I just had my exam with Trelawney," he told her, seeming to calm down at her prodding. "She – well, she kind of zoned out – then all of a sudden she was telling me things, about Voldemort and Sirius Black, and how they were going to be reunited tonight-"

"Harry, Trelawney's mad as a hatter, I wouldn't put too much stock in her ramblings – she once asked what kind of hair colour charm I use – as though I were a bottle blonde. It was actually rather insulting-"

"She was predicting it," Harry argued strongly, ignoring her tangent. "It wasn't pointless rambling. It was a prophecy."

Swallowing at the conviction she saw in his eyes, she knew she believed him. Harry was sharp, and he knew what he'd seen. Who was she to argue against it? "Okay," she said, and he seemed surprised she'd accepted it so quickly. "What exactly did she say?"

"That tonight, before midnight, Voldemort's most loyal servant will break free and rejoin his master once and for all," he told her in a rush, a dread in his eyes that broke her heart. She wasn't sure what to say – what _was_ there to say to something like that? "So, what have you drawn?" he pressed, deadset on answers.

Winona grimaced, flipping to the right page. "I only drew it a couple of days ago. It's kind of contradictory to what Trelawney's just told you," she said as she handed over the sketch of Black kneeling at Harry's side, a hand pressed tenderly over his heart. Harry stared down at it with hard eyes. "I don't know what it means," she added quietly. "But I get the feeling there's more to this whole thing than meets the eye."

Harry handed her back the sketchbook, and she politely ignored the way his hand trembled. "Sirius Black betrayed my parents," he said, voice like steel.

"Yeah," she replied, however soft and unsure.

"I've gotta go," Harry said, standing sharply to his feet.

"Harry!" Winona called before he could rush away. He turned back to her expectantly, green eyes glittering from behind his circular glasses. "Be careful tonight," she said, her gaze meeting his, imploring. "Promise me," she begged him when he didn't move to speak. "Please."

Harry hesitated. "Yeah, I'll be careful," he finally said, but the words felt empty, ringing with insincerity. Brow pulling downwards in concern, Winona could do no more than stare after him, hoping beyond all hope that the foreboding twist of her gut was nothing but a warning of oncoming bad weather.

She remained where she was awhile longer, processing what had just happened with Harry and trying to lose herself in her sketching. It proved, for maybe the first time in her life, impossible.

She found she couldn't connect, her brain buzzing away inside her head. It was an insistent and pressing feeling, telling her that Harry, Ron and Hermione _knew _something. Ever since that night all those months ago, sat in the common room with Harry while they talked about their parents…there was something she was missing, and it was driving her up the bloody wall.

Giving up on trying to draw, Winona shoved her things away and made a beeline for Gryffindor Tower. The common room was full when she arrived, everybody hanging out and debriefing after the long day of exams.

She strode past the common room, heading up to her dorm, but a peek inside told her it was full too. Angelina, Alicia and Hope were all gathered around one bed, laughing about something or other and painting each other's toenails. Winona wasn't in the mood, and she knew she needed privacy for what she wanted to do next. She snuck inside and darted to her bed, quickly opening her bedside drawers and fishing out her small stash of candles from within.

The girls noticed her and called for her to join them, but she just made a hurried excuse about promising to play chess with the twins before darting back out again.

Hurrying back down to the common room, she went directly for the group making the most noise, immediately locating Fred and George where they were doing an improvised skit for a group of starry-eyed first years.

She caught Fred's eye, and just as abruptly, the entire scene came to a halt. Fred made a lighthearted excuse about needing water for his 'singing voice' and broke away from the group, leaving George and Lee to keep things moving.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked her quietly, eyes scanning her up and down as though searching for an injury.

"I need your help with something," she said, staring up into his blue eyes, hopeful.

Fred nodded once. "Anything."

She grasped his hand, turning and leading him up the stairs to the boys' dorms. A seventh-year made a lewd, suggestive noise as they passed him on the stairs, but Winona only kicked him hard in the shin before continuing to pull Fred along without pause.

"Okay, you're worrying me now," Fred told her as she made it to his room, pulling him inside and shutting the door, using her wand to lock it. "What's going on?"

She moved over to Fred's bed, putting down her bag and beginning to pull out the candles she'd stashed there. "Don't freak out," she began as she placed the candles in a perfect circle around the bed, "but I'm going to induce a vision."

Fred blinked at her, struggling to understand. Moving with easy efficiency, Winona pulled out her art supplies, setting them down in her lap before leaning forwards and flicking her fingertips over the wicks of the candles. Fred wandered closer, coming to a stop beside her and watching as she wandlessly lit each candle.

"Why?" he asked, probing and more cautious than usual. "What happened?"

"Something's going to happen tonight," she told him, leaning back against his headboard and looking up at him. "Come sit here," she said, patting the spot in front of her. "I need you to spot me."

"Spot you?" he echoed, confused.

"Would you just sit down?"

He did as she asked, climbing onto the bed so he sat directly opposite her, crossing his legs to copy her stance and staring at her carefully. "What d'you mean something's going to happen tonight?"

She flipped to a fresh page in her sketchbook, running her fingertips across the crisp parchment, the feel of it against her skin more grounding than anything else. "I don't know," she muttered, equally as frustrated by the answer.

"Winnie," he said, slow and purposeful. She met his eyes, which almost seemed to glow in the candlelight. "Take a breath and explain."

Knowing he was right, she stopped, taking a deep breath and rolling her neck to try and help herself relax.

"This whole year – actually, my whole time so far at Hogwarts, I've felt like I was _missing_ something," she began quietly, absentmindedly cracking her knuckles to relieve some of her tension. "Something other people seem to know, but I don't. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Harry – even your parents. _Something's_ being kept from me. I don't know why, but I'm _sick_ of being kept in the dark, Fred."

He stared at her, trying desperately to understand, which she loved him all the more for. "And you think…_this_…will help?" he asked, gesturing to the candles surrounding them and the sharp, flowery scent they were giving off as they burned.

"I'm going to induce a vision, and I'm going to really, properly look for some answers."

"What'd you mean something was going to happen tonight, though?"

"Sometimes I just _know_ things," she said, something he already knew, but it could do with restating. "And what I know is that tonight's important. I know that tonight, I'm finally getting the answers I've been searching for. I just need to take my head out of the sand and start to really _look_." Fred still looked concerned, and she grit her teeth anxiously. "Are you _with_ me?"

He didn't need to think about it, just reaching out to grasp her hands in his. The touch soothed her, and she relaxed a little more. "I'm always with you," he promised. Winona smiled gratefully. "So, how does this work?" he asked, still gripping her hands as he eyed the candles around them and the sketchbook in her lap. "What do you need me to do?"

"I've tried to induce visions before, but never to this extent," she told him, holding his hands tighter, comforted by the scrape of his callouses against her palms. "The candles are made with herbs that help channel my inner eye – according to Trelawney, anyway. All I know for sure is that the scent helps pull me under."

"Pull you under what?"

She just smiled, knowing it would be too hard now to explain the way she felt when she yielded to the current of a vision. There would be time for that later.

"I just need you to watch me. I've never intended to actually _succumb _like this before. I don't know what will happen to me, to my physical body, but I just know that I–" she cut herself off, the next words suddenly feeling too intimate to say aloud.

Fred's cornflower eyes glittered with warmth. "You don't want to be alone," he finished for her, and her lips twitched up in a smile of gratitude.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone for–" she started to say.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and she squeezed his hands, overcome with affection.

"Okay," she said bracingly, reluctantly letting go of his calloused hands and turning her attention to her sketchbook. "Alright," she said again, trying to convince herself she was okay. "Pencil, pencil," she muttered, turning her head to try and spot the thing in question.

Fred's hand shot up, moving over her head and disappearing into her hair. She felt his fingertips graze her scalp and had to restrain a shiver. When he brought his hand back down it was holding the pencil she'd shoved into her untidy bun earlier that day.

She smiled and he grinned back, the expression roguish and charming as she took the pencil from his long fingers, then turned her full attention to her task. "Ready?" she asked him quietly, staring resolutely at her blank page.

"Ready."

And so she closed her eyes, inhaled the sweet, near overpowering scents of the candles, and began to try and shed her physical body, just as Trelawney had taught her.

As she'd described it before, it was very much like a current. One not within herself, but rather a force that she had the unique ability to tap into. Time was like a river, she'd found. With practise, it was growing easier to dive in and experience it all at once.

Like she'd said, the concept was a complicated one.

For a long time – she wasn't sure exactly _how_ long – she remained in the room, eyes closed as she desperately tried to sink into a state of Sight. She could hear Fred's steady breathing, feel his eyes on her face. It wasn't uncomfortable but rather reassuring. Like she knew she was safer than ever before, because she had Fred there to watch over and protect her physical body.

With this in mind, she took a deep mental breath and plunged head first into the river of time.

She didn't know what she was looking for, she just knew that she'd know when she found it. She couldn't go back in time, couldn't See the past like she could See the future. Her only hope at getting answers was Seeing a conversation that was _going _to happen, rather than one that already _had_.

It was difficult to sift through the massive amounts of input she was getting. Like looking for a needle in a stack of identical needles that was the size of the castle itself.

She searched and searched, everything just a blur of colour and a single, constant buzz of sound. It was all similar and different and identical and unique. It was everything all at once. Some of it wasn't set in stone, but rather in flux, ebbing and flowing like the tides of the ocean, mere possibilities of what could be. Just when she began to give up hope, stuck in the turmoil of it all, unable to feel her own breath or heartbeat, she was plunged into a room.

This vision was different to the others. Usually they were stabs of light and sound, too much for her consciousness to comprehend – but that was because she always fought against it. She always battled with it, reluctant to give up control, scared of what might happen if she did.

Now, for the first time since learning what she was, Winona allowed herself to succumb to it, handing over control and letting herself submerge into the scene of what was to come.

_She was in some kind of room. It was completely destroyed, like a rabid animal had been let loose inside of it, shattering furniture and shredding the wallpaper with large, claw-like slices. She wasn't alone._

_Harry, Ron and Hermione were all there, staring across the room with wide eyes. There was a man with a rat-like face and balding hair, and he was cowering away from Professor Lupin, who had him chained up and was glaring with hatred. Beside him was Sirius Black, eyes sunken and face waxen, but there was a spark of renewed life to his eyes. Winona felt her heart jump in her chest at the sight of him._

"_What about Professor Snape?" Hermione's voice asked, and Winona scanned the room to find Snape collapsed against the wall, blood trickling down from his hairline._

"_There's nothing seriously wrong with him," Lupin replied smoothly. There was an ease about the exchange, like they weren't standing there with an unconscious teacher, like a convicted murderer wasn't stood between them, like nothing in the world was wrong. "You were just a little — overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er — perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this…"_

_He muttered, "Mobilicorpus." As though invisible strings were tied to Snape's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, limp feet dangling. _

"_And two of us should be chained to this," said Black, nudging the crying, balding man on the floor with his toe, like he were no more than trash he despised. "Just to make sure."_

"_I'll do it," said Lupin quickly, eyeing the ratty man with contempt._

"_And me," said Ron with conviction, limping forwards. Winona began to wonder what had happened to his leg, but her attention was quickly snagged by Lupin, who turned to look at Black with a serious frown on his face._

"_Sirius, before we leave, while we have a chance to talk – there's something you need to know," Lupin professed, and Black looked up from where he was shackling Ron to the sobbing man on the floor. "It's about…it's about Winona," he said, sounding choked, like the words were difficult to get out around a lump in his throat._

_Black's face twisted in pain and the entire room filled with tension as the Golden Trio watched on with wide eyes._

"_I know," said Black in a strained voice. "I know she's alive."_

"_You do?" asked Lupin in surprise._

"_That night I snuck into the Gryffindor common room –– I saw her. Face to face, I looked her in the eyes, Remus. I _saw_ her," he said, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Winona couldn't feel her own body, certainly not her own heartbeat, but if she could, she was sure it would have been racing._

"_Wait, how do you know Winnie?" demanded Harry, looking between them critically. "And why did you think she was dead?"_

"_Because that was what Dumbledore told me – that's what he told everyone. Said she'd died, in an effort to protect her, no doubt," he paused, seeming to take a moment to collect himself. "You know her well?"_

"_Yeah," Harry responded, mystified. _

_Winona would have had to have been blind to miss the hope in the escaped convict's eyes. "What's she like?"_

"_Brilliant," Harry replied, sincerity in his eyes that warred with his confusion. "She's smart. Kind. A little bit crazy, but in a good way." He stopped, swallowing loudly. "How do you know her? Are you her godfather, too?"_

_Black opened his mouth, but the words didn't seem to come, blocked by an emotion none of them could name._

_Lupin was the one to speak up, and when he did, it was like pieces of a puzzle slotting into place. "Sirius is Winona's father, Harry," he said gently, easing him into it slowly, knowing it would be a lot to process._

_From her invisible vantage point, Winona almost seemed to stop existing entirely, lost in the realism of the moment. _

_Harry took another moment to process this, seeming suspiciously less stupefied than the rest of them. "She told me her mother's name was Jessica," he said, voice subdued, almost like some part of him were afraid of the answer. "She thinks her last name is Andrews – but that's not true, is it?"_

_Lupin and Black exchanged a long look, full of a shared history that none of those witnessing it could even begin to understand. _

"_Because Jessica was my aunt's name," Harry continued with bated breath. "My dad's sister – Jessica Potter. That's who her mum was." Black gave a waning smile, and Winona had never seen an expression of such intense love mingled with such unbearable agony. Harry paused again. "So…so all that…makes Winona-"_

"_A Potter," said Hermione for him, sounding like she'd just had the wind knocked from her lungs. "Harry, Winona's your _cousin."

Coming out of the vision wasn't rough and jarring like it usually was. Instead, Winona seemed to blink her eyes and she was back in the boys' dorms. Fred was standing a few feet away, but he wasn't alone. George was stood beside him, their heads bent as they muttered between themselves.

Fred seemed to realise she was back first, but he did so without even turning to look. "Hey, Win," he said, and George snapped his head up too, looking at her with relief. "Welcome back."

Winona couldn't process all of this, she could only stare, unseeing in a completely different sense.

Her head was both loud and quiet. Like a raging storm and a pristine desert of silence, her mind was torn in two. She couldn't think, couldn't process what she'd just learned.

Could she trust it? Part of her wanted to call it a hallucination, but it was wishful thinking. She knew what she'd witnessed, knew the truth of it, even as it burned a hole in her chest like a melted down acid pop.

"Win?" Fred's voice asked, and she blinked, turning her eyes onto him. He was staring back in concern, knowing her well enough not to take her silence as a good thing. "George knocked," he explained when her eyes flickered over to his brother. "Didn't think you'd mind. It'd been awhile, so he came looking."

"Awhile?" she asked, surprised to find her throat dry and her voice hoarse.

Fred hesitated, like the next words were big ones, and therefore needed to be handled with the utmost care. "It's been over three hours," he said, gentle but matter-of-fact.

Winona's sore eyes went wide, and she blinked until the stinging stopped.

"You okay?" George asked from the end of the bed. "What'd you see?"

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" Fred added hopefully.

Winona blinked again. "Yeah," she said, the words weak and hollow at best. Feeling the familiar weight of her sketchbook in her lap, she quickly glanced down, heart leaping into her throat as she did.

It was much like the image she'd drawn a few days ago, of Harry and Sirius Black down in the Hogwarts courtyard. This time they were standing beside one another, with one glaringly obvious addition.

The sketched figure of Winona herself was stood opposite them.

It was a detailed sketch, done with the kind of precision only three hours could bring you. Mouth dry and eyes burning, Winona quickly began to shove away her things. Time was wasting, she didn't have long before the window of opportunity was gone forever. She needed this, needed to face this – it – _him._ She needed to know.

"Win?" Fred asked warily, watching as she scrambled gracelessly to her feet.

"I've gotta go," she said quickly, heart racing in her chest. She thought about taking her bag with her, but it would only slow her down. "Watch my bag – I'll be back for it soon," she promised the boys. George looked mildly alarmed by the fact that she was planning to go anywhere without it, but Winona didn't have time to explain.

"Win, what's going _on_?" Fred demanded, uncharacteristically anxious.

"I really need to go – it's important," she told him, making a beeline for the door only to come to a sudden stop. She turned, heading straight for Fred and quickly pressing herself up to peck his cheek affectionately. "Thanks, Freddie," she said sincerely, but the concern on his face never waned. She reached out to grasp onto George's hand, squeezing to convey her gratitude. "I'll explain later!" she called as she flicked her wand at the door, unlocking it and barrelling out into the hall.

She wasn't wearing any shoes – something that was happening with more and more frequency, these days. The floor beneath her feet was cold as she all but tripped down the stairs, toppling out into the common room and sprinting for the portrait hole.

"Winona? It's after curfew! You're not allowed to leave!" Percy shouted at her, but she didn't pay him so much as a second of attention. All his words – everyone's words – were nothing but white noise compared to the storm raging inside her head. The reality she was suddenly faced with – the possibility that Sirius Black was…

She couldn't think the words, couldn't acknowledge their truth. She couldn't think about how it made sense, or felt right. She didn't know what to think, or feel. Should she have been happy? Or angry? And if so, at who?

She sprinted through the empty, silent halls of the castle. It was dark, but moonlight seeped in through the many windows built into the walls, bathing her in a silvery, ethereal glow. She ran faster, an invisible, ticking clock in her head. She had to get there, before time ran out and Sirius Black left – possibly forever.

When she finally arrived at the courtyard she was filled with a wave of relief, but that just as quickly disappeared when she finally laid sight on the criminal himself. Sirius Black was crouched down by Harry at one of the benches, his hand splayed over his godson's chest.

They glanced up sharply when she burst noisily into the courtyard, and everyone was perfectly silent for a beat, nobody knowing what to say. Then Black stood up, the movement slow and controlled, like he were worried about spooking a nervous animal. Winona wondered what her face must have looked like, to draw such a reaction.

She just kept staring at him, trying to understand, trying to find the truth in his eyes.

"Winona," he said, just like that night in the Tower, and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest.

"Is it true?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper; it was a miracle they heard her at all. Black didn't answer her. "Is it true?" she repeated with more force, demanding a reply.

He took a few hurried steps towards her, but stopped shy of touching her. The expression on his face was torn, full of pain and hope and longing. She wondered whether any of it was real.

"Winona – he's innocent!" Harry exclaimed from the bench, shooting to his feet.

"_Is it true_?" she asked for a third time, hoping she wouldn't need to again.

"You're my daughter," Black confirmed and the words were like a weight from her shoulders. So many years of thinking she was an orphan, now to now her father was alive? It lifted a weight but left a sadness in her heart. How could nobody have told her? How could they let her think she was alone, all these years? "How did you find out?" Black continued, eyes still glittering with emotion that hurt her heart to look at. "I thought you didn't know-"

"I just found out," she interrupted him, not in the mood to rehash her sorry history. "Doesn't matter how," she added just as firmly. Just because he was her family by blood, it didn't mean he'd earned the right to her secrets; earned the right to_ know_ her. "And Jessica – my mother –– "

"Was a Potter," Black finished for her, eyes now glinting with regret, a remorse she couldn't fully understand.

"Is she really dead, or was that just another lie?" she snarled.

Black flinched back like the venom in her words had burned him. "I would _never_ lie to you, Winnie," Black said, taking the few steps closer so they were within touching distance. The lack of space between them was screaming at her. Her father so close, she could touch him. It was like a dream – but not necessarily a good one.

"Sirius!" hissed Hermione from the other side of the courtyard. "You've got to go."

Black ignored her, and so did Winona. "I don't have time to explain – believe me, I _wish_ I did," he said, sincerity a tremor in his voice. "Go to Dumbledore. Demand answers. With any luck, you might even get them. And talk to Remus, he can fill in the blanks that Dumbledore won't."

He stopped, like his thoughts had come to an abrupt halt. He lifted a dirty, grimy hand, bringing it up to her porcelain face so his fingertips could brush over the apple of her cheek. Her heart hammered in her chest. Up until the moment they touched, some part of her still thought he was just a ghost, that he was going to blow away like smoke the moment a strong enough breeze brushed by.

Winona stopped breathing altogether. Their eyes locked, and she thought now that she _remembered_ him.

It was years ago now, but looking into his eyes she saw a ghost of a man, much younger and full of life, making silly faces at her while she giggled. She could remember how he used to smell; like pine forests and a good kind of wet dog.

"You look like me," Black whispered, the words meant only for the two of them. "You have my eyes."

And it was true. Their eyes were a matching grey, like the foreboding clouds of an oncoming storm. Winona had always loved the rain.

She felt her lower lip tremble and the realisation that she was about to cry horrified her – but that wasn't enough to stop the tears from coming. One spilled over, unwelcome, onto her cheek, trailing down the length of her face and showing the world exactly how much this hurt.

"I never meant to leave," he told her, and somehow is sounded like a promise. "If I could go back-"

"Sirius!" Hermione hissed again.

"I have to go," Black said, his voice layered with years upon years of regret. "But I'll see you again," he vowed, turning to include Harry, who watched on with hope in his eyes. Hope that Winona wished she didn't share – but she did. It was there, burning in her heart like a traitorous little flame. "_Both_ of you," Sirius promised.

Then he turned, feet hitting the stone beneath him as he raced back to Hermione and Buckbeak. He clamoured onto the hippogriff's back and turned to look at Winona and Harry one final time. They could see the pain in his eyes, knew he wanted to stay, to fix things – but time was cruel, and it stopped for nobody.

Buckbeak catapulted himself into the air, taking Winona and Harry's only surviving family with him.

Then they were gone, and everything was silent, Winona's head a jumble of half-finished thoughts and pulsing emotions, ears ringing like in the wake of an explosion. But before she could so much as utter a word to Harry, Hermione whirled around, tugging at his sleeve.

"We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us — before Dumbledore locks the door—" she said in a hurry.

"But – Winnie-" Harry tried to say, turning to who he now knew to be his cousin, eyes alight with emotion. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he _needed_ to say. Winona felt the same, but reality was rarely that convenient.

"Go," Winona told him, the single word coming out choked. "I'll come find you."

He looked like he still wanted to argue – then Hermione yanked on his sleeve again and he relented. "Okay," Harry said reluctantly. "Let's go."

Winona waited until they'd disappeared around the corner before finally allowing herself to breathe. Standing alone in the middle of an empty courtyard, the silvery moonlight filtering down onto her face, all of a sudden it all felt startlingly real.

She turned, walking in a daze as she made her way through the castle towards Dumbledore's office. It was late, almost midnight, and she didn't doubt that the Headmaster was busy dealing with the events of the evening. But she didn't care. She'd camp outside the gargoyle guarding his office all week, if it meant getting the answers she so desperately needed.

The castle was empty and silent, few people roaming the halls at this hour. Still, she nearly ran into Snape and the Minister. They were stalking towards the hospital wing, Snape shouting about something or other, and the Minister attempting to calm him. Neither noticed Winona as she crouched in the shadows. She didn't spare the time to consider herself lucky, taking off again in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

The Gargoyle seemed to eye her as she approached, but she didn't pause in her delivery of the password. It leapt aside and she climbed the stone staircase, arriving on the landing and knocking loudly on the heavy, wooden door.

There was no answer but the door still creaked open, miraculously unlocked. She slipped inside to find it was empty. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, but she realised this was a good thing. She needed some time to collect herself, lest she explode in the Headmaster's face like some kind of childish time-bomb.

She walked over to Fawkes, who cooed softly as she approached, letting her reach up to stroke his glowing, crimson feathers.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, like it were threatening to drop down into her feet. Her insides felt hollow, like Sirius had taken them with him when he'd flown away. Her head felt like it were full of cotton balls, thick and fuzzy, making it difficult to think.

Again, she wasn't sure what to feel, couldn't seem to settle on one emotion. Should she have felt happy that she knew the truth? Angry that it had been kept from her this whole time? Furious and betrayed that she'd been lied to all her life? Sad that her – that _Sirius _– was gone, and their future was completely uncertain?

What was she meant to think? Feel? Believe? Who knew if what Dumbledore told her now would even be true, should he tell her anything at all?

It was like she didn't know who she was anymore. Like her sense of self had been scooped out and used to fuel somebody else's fire. Because who were you but where you'd come from? Your history was such a big part of who you were, and suddenly everything she'd known was a lie. Did that mean she wasn't real? That she was just a fabrication of the people she'd come to trust?

She was just beginning to spiral when the door creaked open behind her. Winona turned, realising she'd been stood in the same position for at least an hour now, stroking her fingers over Fawkes' shiny red plume.

"Winona," Dumbledore greeted her pleasantly, like she wasn't standing at his desk with a face wet with tears and betrayal glittering in her eyes. "How are you?"

Winona couldn't speak for a long moment, gathering together all her swirling thoughts, struggling to convert them into intelligent speech. "Were you ever going to tell me?" she finally asked, voice scratchy from her tears.

Dumbledore didn't react, merely wandering over to his desk and taking a seat in his large, ornate chair, golden robes settling around his frail body. He swept a hand at the seat opposite him, but the gesture went ignored, Winona opting to stand.

"No," he eventually told her – not sounding particularly apologetic about it, either. "No, I wasn't going to tell you."

She choked around her next breath, the words like a pill she had to swallow. "Why not?" she softly, remarkably calm considering the circumstances.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, peering at her where she was pacing in front of his desk, her steps slow and steady but nonetheless firm. "At first it was for your own safety," he said, voice ancient and crackling. She didn't meet his eyes, listening on as she stared darkly down at the rug beneath her bare feet. "Then it was for your peace of mind."

"Because thinking I was alone my whole life really gave me a lot of peace," she spat, but Dumbledore didn't so much as blink.

"But you weren't alone," he said, utterly calm. "You have your friends; the Weasleys; Harry."

"Who happens to by my _family_," she hissed back, humiliated as her eyes began to burn again. Hadn't she cried enough for one night? "I had a right to know," she snarled, feeling the truth of the words in her very bones.

"Telling you of your connection to Harry would have created more questions than it would have answered," he told her evenly. She wasn't sure that was true, but she _was_ sure she might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor too, so she knew just how stubborn he could be.

"I had a right to know," she repeated stonily, voice losing some of its venom, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

Dumbledore stared at her, thoughtful. Maybe it was how pathetic she looked in that moment, or maybe he could sense her pain, but eventually he relented. "Perhaps you did," he admitted quietly. She didn't miss the glaring _lack_ of an apology. "What did you see?" he continued in the same breath. And wasn't that always what it came down to? What she'd _Seen_? "What do you know?"

"Not enough," she said, stepping closer and slapping her palms against his desktop, finally meeting his eyes, stormy grey clashing with glittering sapphire. "Tell me what happened tonight," she demanded, the furthest thing from a request. "Tell me what happened that night twelve years ago. Tell me _how he's innocent_."

She was obstinate, and he could tell. She stared him down, unflinching under his eyes, which suddenly looked less like glittering sapphires and more like little chips of needle-sharp ice. Cold and dangerous and impersonal.

So she was surprised when he did just that, leaning back in his chair and beginning to tell her the story of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew; how the Pettigrew had framed Sirius for his murder, and that of the Potters. She listened silently, asking no questions, absorbing the information she was given like it were the most important lecture of her life.

In many ways, it was.

As he spoke, she felt herself relax, felt herself slowly begin to trust Black. Until then, she'd been torn. Was he a good man, or was he really the murderer everyone assumed him to be? She didn't want a murderer for a father; and, apparently, she didn't have one.

Once Dumbledore had finished rehashing the events of the night, Winona couldn't help but ask, "who told you all of this?"

Dumbledore eyed her before saying, "Your father himself."

"Don't call him that," she snapped, surprising herself with the sharpness to her voice. Dumbledore took it in stride, nodding his head in acknowledgement. "So I know he's innocent," she began again, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "Why did he think I was dead? What happened to my mother? Why was the truth kept from me all these years?"

Dumbledore made a show of glancing over at the grandfather clock standing in the far corner. "It's getting late – or early, rather – we can pick this up in the morning––"

"No," she interrupted him sharply. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed into icy darts. She placed her hands on the desk again, leaning closer, fire burning in her eyes. "I do _everything_ you ask of me. I run to you _every_ _single_ _time_ I have a vision. I keep the secrets you tell me to, I lie to the people who mean the most to me, and I go to every private lesson you arrange. So for _once_ you are going to do what _I _tell you; for _once_ you are going to answer _my_ questions."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, staring at the young Gryffindor with unbridled curiosity – her eyes aflame with fury, her hair crackling with magic. Winona could see the cogs turning behind his cold eyes as he considered what to do, but she knew the only way he was getting out of telling her the truth was to cast a Full Body-Bind Curse and levitate her back up to Gryffindor Tower himself.

In the end, the Headmaster relented. Whether it was because of her strong words or simply the trouble the other option would have been, she wasn't sure, but it got the desired result.

"Jessica was James Potter's older sister by just over a year," Dumbledore began in a low, rumbling voice. Winona stepped back from the desk, watching the Headmaster closely as he spoke, taking in the faraway look to his blue eyes. She wondered what he was seeing, then decided she didn't care. "She wasn't as well known as her brother. At school she kept her head down, focused on her studies, didn't get into nearly as much trouble," he paused, considering. "She was in Gryffindor, but you wouldn't have known it. I always thought she had more of a Hufflepuff's heart."

Winona stared back as if in a daze, struggling to picture her mother being a soft, studious, mild-mannered like the all Hufflepuffs she knew.

"It's safe to say you take after your father," Dumbledore told her with the tiniest hint of amusement, as though she wasn't still utterly furious with him. She glared at him, but his smile never faded, as if oblivious to her ire. "She died the morning of Halloween," he continued quietly. "Death Eaters raided her house – _your_ house. Sirius was away on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix – a secret organisation spearheaded by myself to fight Voldemort when he was at his peak, back in the First Wizarding War," he explained at her look of confusion.

She didn't twitch, staring, urging him to carry on.

"The wards put around your house alerted the Order to the attack. They got there in time to save you, but not your mother."

Winona felt her eyes sting, but she stubbornly ignored it.

"Because he was away, Sirius didn't find out Jessica was killed until after he was arrested for the murders. He'd gone to the Potter's first, to check they were okay, and that's when he found them. That's when he went after Pettigrew. The story of your mother's death had already leaked, with one false detail – the reports said you'd been killed too."

Winona swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"Sirius had already been told, but the Minister wouldn't allow me to meet with him, so I wasn't able to correct the mistake."

"So he just…thought I was dead?" she asked weakly. "All these years?"

"Yes."

"But why did you lie to _me_?" she demanded, refusing to allow herself to be distracted.

"The Minister decided it were for the best that you grew up away from the limelight. If the press had heard you were alive, they'd have never left you alone. As the daughter of Sirius Black, you would have been ostracised. She thought it best you weren't told of who you were, or who your parents had been. She considered it an act of kindness."

"She?" Winona echoed. "It wasn't Fudge?"

"The Minister at the time was Millicent Bagnold," Dumbledore told her. "She really did have your best interests at heart."

"Did she?" Winona asked, voice like the ice of his eyes as she began to pace, this time like a caged tiger, full of sparking magic just dying to be set free. "So, she had my best interests at heart when I was sent to the Feldman's as a foster kid? When they gave me this scar?" she spat, yanking up her sweater to reveal the ugly scar at her middle. "How about the Morrison's, when they only let me eat once a day to save a bit of cash? Or the Blair's, when they cut off all my hair and kept me locked in a small room until I screamed loud enough to draw the neighbour's attention?"

"Miss Andrews-"

"But that's not my name, though, is it?" Winona snarled, eyes wet again. But now it was more from fury than it was pain. "Where'd they get it from? Did they pick it out of a hat?"

Dumbledore sighed, the sound full of forced patience. It made her hate him, the abhorrence burning in her gut. "The Minister chose it," he told her quietly.

"Winona Black?" she snapped, venomous once more. "That's my real name?"

"It is."

It didn't even sound right on her tongue. Like someone had taken two random words and pressed them together, creating some meaningless nonsense.

"And why not tell me when I first came to Hogwarts?" she demanded. "Why couldn't I know?"

"How would you have felt, knowing that your only living relative was in Azkaban for murder?"

"But he's _not_ my only living relative, is he? Because I have _Harry_!"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers once more. Winona turned away, unable to stand the sight of him. She pressed a hand to her forehead, breathing deeply. Rage was licking like flames at her blood, threatening to consume her. She hated the world – hated Voldemort for killing her mum, hated the Weasleys for knowing and saying nothing, hated herself for not figuring it out sooner. But most of all, she hated Dumbledore. She hated him more than she'd ever hated anything.

It ate at her like an acid, and she wondered what would be left of her when it finally stopped devouring.

"The connection between the two of you has always been apparent," Dumbledore agreed thoughtfully, like the whole thing were some interesting, philosophical dilemma. "It was like you both knew the truth without really _knowing_ _the truth_."

His words brought nothing but disgust. "I had a right to know," she said once again, dark and full of burning resentment.

"You did," he agreed, for the first time sounding at least the tiniest bit apologetic. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

She decided not to acknowledge the words. "Who else knows?" she asked, insistent.

"Myself, Professors McGonagall, Snape and Lupin – some people your parents were friends with back in the day have figured it out, too," he added, and he didn't need to say the Weasleys' name aloud. She already knew. "As well as some select people in the Ministry," he finished. Her stomach twisted like somebody gripped both ends and wrenched.

Like her energy was drained, Winona suddenly didn't feel like talking any more – or at least, not to Dumbledore. She turned, running her hands down the front of her jumper. "Okay. I'm going to bed now," she announced without fanfare.

"Are you okay, Miss Andrews?" he asked before she could take so much as a single step in the direction of the door.

The sound of her false name from his lips only made her angry again. Her fists clenched but her voice remained even. "Don't you think I should change my name back to Black?" she asked hotly.

Dumbledore considered her over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "That, I believe, is entirely up to you," he said, voice carefully measured.

She was relieved when the Headmaster said nothing more, simply letting her wander from the office and pad her way back up to Gryffindor Tower alone. As she walked she found the sun beginning to rise over the mountains, bathing her in a golden, peachy glow. She inhaled the crisp morning air, stopping to rest her head against one of the columns holding up the corridor and taking the time to watched the sunrise.

When she finally made her way back up to the Tower, it was without any interruptions. She didn't run into anyone – not Filch, not any students, and not even Peeves. It was just her, dangerously alone with her thoughts.

Stepping into the common room, she was met with the low crackle of a dying fire and the sight of her two best friends sprawled across couches that they barely fit onto anymore, eyes closed as they restlessly slumbered.

Winona surprised herself by smiling. She'd thought maybe the ability to smile had been lost in the havoc of it all. It had certainly felt that way for a while there. She was glad to find it hadn't.

She gravitated naturally towards Fred, kneeling down by his head. She hesitated a moment, eyes flickering over the constellations of his freckles and admiring the way his long, pale lashes splashed across his cheekbones.

Reaching out, she pressed a hand against his shoulder and shook him gently. His eyes snapped open and he shot up like he'd been struck by lightening. His head spun around, looking for something, until finally his eyes met hers and he relaxed, slouching against the couch cushions.

"You're back," he said, reaching up to scrub as his tired, hooded eyes.

"You shouldn't have waited up for me," she whispered back, taking care not to wake George, who still slumbered on the next couch over.

"What time is it?" Fred asked rather than acknowledge her words.

"Just after sunrise," she told him, sitting back on her heels.

He nodded, brow knitted in concern as he looked at her. He suddenly reached out, gently brushing the pad of his thumb across the space below her eye. Her heart stuttered at the unexpected contact. "You've been crying," he murmured, frown deepening.

"I'm okay," she promised him, but he didn't look convinced. "Or, I will be, given some time," she amended herself quietly. _I hope._

"What happened?" he asked, suddenly much more awake as he sat up, patting the space beside him. She climbed into it, relieved to be sitting down.

"George," she said at a regular volume. George gave a sleepy snort from where he lay, so Winona kicked out her foot to nudge his arm. He jerked awake, much as his brother had a moment before. "If I'm going to tell it, I'm only telling it once," she told them, and once George was properly awake, sitting up and looking at her with concern similar to his twin, she began to explain.

* * *

The twins had been shocked, to say the very least. They'd had a million questions, very few of which Winona knew the answers to. Mostly they were just supportive, which was exactly what she needed after the night she'd had.

They talked until people began to wander down from the dorms in search of breakfast. They wanted her to go upstairs and get some sleep, but instead she forced them all down to the Great Hall to have a bite to eat. She gobbled down a few slices of french toast, then packed up a small tower of the stuff and stood back up to her feet.

"Where're you going?" asked George around a mouthful of pancakes and strawberries.

Winona considered all the ways to reply, and eventually found one that felt the most sincere. "To see my cousin."

They blinked at her, unsure whether to gape or to smile, but she just turned and left for the Hospital Wing.

Stepping inside the Hospital Wing, she saw all three members of the Golden Trio were propped up in separate beds. Hermione and Ron were both asleep, no doubt exhausted from the combination of a long night and considerable injuries. Harry was the only one awake, emerald eyes blinking up at her from behind his circular glasses.

"I bring treats," Winona whispered as she approached, holding up the stack of toast in her hands.

Harry said nothing as she took a seat beside his bed, handing over the french toast with a small, hopeful smile. He smiled back, the expression just as small and laughably timid, before taking a bite of the toast. They fell into a silence that was, for the first time, uncomfortable.

Unsure what to do or how to fix it, Winona eventually caught Harry's eyes, and the laughter came easy, spilling from their mouths, mingled with only a dash of hysteria.

"This shouldn't be so weird," she said with a snort, shuffling her chair closer to his bed and leaning her elbow on the mattress, propping her chin up on her fist.

"You're right, it shouldn't," he agreed, munching on his breakfast slowly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"How are you?" she asked, eyes running over the small cuts still on his face and taking note of his waxen complexion.

"I'm okay," he said, putting down a slice of the toast and smiling wider. "I can't believe everything that's happened, it still feels like a dream," he continued in barely-concealed awe. "In a single night I gained both a godfather and a cousin I _actually_ _like_. I gained a family."

Winona hoped it wasn't obvious her eyes were shining. She smiled at him, snatching another piece of toast, if only for something to do with her hands. "When did you know?" she asked once she'd swallowed a mouthful.

"When I first heard about my aunt – about Jessica – that was when I thought that _maybe…_" he trailed off. "Sorry for not saying anything," he apologised quickly, but Winona waved it away.

"It's okay," she promised quietly, leaning forwards in her chair. "If you'd told me any earlier, I probably would have freaked out."

"How did you know to come to the courtyard?" he asked suddenly. "How did you know you could trust him?"

"I knew how I always know," she replied simply. "I had a vision."

They were quiet for another few moments. "What's it like?" he asked her, voice soft and lacking confidence. She met his eyes, confusion swirling in her own. "Finding out your dad's alive, after all these years you've thought he was dead?"

Winona didn't quite smile, she just pursed her lips, carefully considering the question. "I don't think it's fully sunken in yet," she told him honestly. "It's so surreal."

They chewed on their toast, enjoying the company and the quiet, each lost in their own world of thoughts. "You know, Sirius told me he was going to ask us if we wanted to move in with him," Harry finally said. Winona glanced up at him in startled surprise.

"He what?"

"Once this all dies down and he clears his name, he said we could go live with him – if we wanted to."

"You're kidding," Winona gaped. "He wants us to move in with him?"

"He said we could be a proper family," he told her gently, the smile on his lips slowly growing. "Would you do it? I mean, anywhere's gotta be better than where we are now."

"Yeah," she agreed, the word breathy and faint. Her eyes stung more intensely than before, and she turned away, clearing her throat to try and get herself under control. "Maybe," she finally said once she was sure no tears would come. She turned back to Harry with a slightly-forced smile, reaching out and grasping his hand, curling her fingers around his and squeezing.

Harry smiled and she let go, quickly finishing off her slice of toast.

"Of course, this all depends on whether or not he clears his name," she murmured, hating to be a downer, but also knowing they needed to be at least a little realistic.

"He will," said Harry with unending optimism. She grinned at him, leaning back in her chair and watching as he munched on his toast, a lightness to his emerald eyes she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before.

They weren't just a fifth year and a third year anymore, they weren't just mere friends. Now, they were _family_ – all one another really had. And Winona felt relieved, like she'd been missing something before, something big that she'd never been able to put into words. And now she'd found it; in Harry and in Sirius Black.

After hearing from Harry all about who Professor Lupin _really_ was, Winona couldn't help but hurry off to his office the first moment she had a chance. Besides, Sirius had told her before he'd left to go to him for answers, and she wasn't planning on leaving the school without them. Dumbledore had covered the basics, but the stuff she _really_ wanted to know wasn't anything she thought Dumbledore could tell her.

Walking into his office, she found Professor Lupin standing by a table in the corner, appearing to be sorting through his potion ingredients, packing them away neatly into a ratty old case.

"Winona," he said before she'd so much as cleared her throat. She blinked, eyeing him suspiciously. He turned to look at her and as he did she saw him glance at his desk. On it sat a very familiar piece of parchment.

"The Map," she said like it explained everything – because, really, it did. "Harry told me that you're Moony," she added, stepping deeper into the room. "One of the four Marauders."

"I am," Lupin confirmed, before his face pulled into a frown. "Or, I was," he amended slowly, like the words caused him great sadness. "Harry didn't mention you knew about the Map," he said, more conversational than a moment ago.

She'd never really had a proper conversation with Lupin, not one outside of class, anyway. It was a strange feeling, but there was also this sense, this _familiarity_ that she couldn't quite explain. He felt, all of a sudden, like a dear old friend.

"Fred and George found it our first year," she explained. "But I was the one to figure out how to open it."

Lupin looked intrigued. "And how did you manage that? The password isn't the kind one simply stumbles upon."

Winona gave a small, secretive smile. "I have my ways," she told him, and that was that. "Can I ask you something?" she continued on, wandering a little further into the room and taking a seat in the chair opposite his large, ornate desk.

"Please," he said, kind and open.

"Did you know me – when I was a baby, I mean?"

Lupin paused, seemingly frozen where he stood, before he turned away, moving over to a small chest in the corner. "Would you like a butterbeer?" he offered.

Winona paused, considering. "Are you technically allowed to offer a student alcohol?" she asked with something of a smirk, already knowing the answer.

"Being as I am no longer a teacher at this school, I think it's a rule I can afford to bend," he replied, moustache twitching with amusement.

"You were sacked?" she asked in surprise, taking the butterbeer he offered her, unscrewing the cap and placing it delicately on the corner of his desk, taking a sip of the warm, butterscotch liquid.

"I resigned," he corrected her, picking up a butterbeer of his own and taking a healthy sip. "You already know of my condition, of course."

She nodded her head, thinking back to that day in Dumbledore's office, months ago now. He'd been such a stranger then. And while he technically still was, there was a connection between them now that hadn't been there before.

"Well, by this time tomorrow, the rest of the school will too," Lupin sighed. "It seems not even Dumbledore's gag order was enough to keep Snape quiet. It's best I leave before parents begin sending me death threats."

Winona nearly choked on her butterbeer. "_Death_ threats?"

He gave a sad, wry kind of smile. "It's happened before. I'm used to it," he added, as though that made it any better.

"Are you avoiding my question?" she asked instead, and he smiled again, this one more genuine than before.

Lupin sighed, staring down at his butterbeer forlornly, an echo of old pain in his eyes. She wondered, for the first time, what his background was. It couldn't have been easy, being a werewolf. But how hard had it been, exactly? If death threats were nothing to pause over, she had to wonder what other horrors hid in his past. But she digressed.

"Black – Sirius, I mean," she corrected herself quickly. They were blood relatives – might as well be on a first-name basis. "He told me to come to you for answers."

Lupin's moustache twitched, but this time not with amusement. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much," he told her quietly.

"Can't or won't?" she challenged.

Lupin chuckled, the sound low and throaty. "You're a lot like your parents, you know?"

Now it was Winona's turn to look down at her butterbeer bottle, toying idly with the label. One edge of it was peeling, and she picked at it, avoiding his eyes.

"Dumbledore said my…my mother was a Gryffindor, too," she murmured, stumbling over the 'M' word. It wasn't one she'd ever had much experience using.

"That she was," he told her quietly, a small smile on his face, like he were remembering something fondly. "She was lovely. Eloquent and kind. She was the perfect Pure-blood daughter, but she had a flare for the creative. Drove her parents insane."

"She was a Pure-blood?" Winona asked, a frown knitting at her brow.

"The Potter family always was – until James married Lily, a Muggle-born."

"But Sirius is my..." she trailed off. Her brain had already put together all of the facts, lining them up and trying to make sense of them, but her emotions were struggling to keep up. "Are you saying I'm a Pure-blood?"

Lupin arched a single eyebrow. "Does it matter?" he asked, pleasantly curious.

"No," she answered immediately, but she still frowned. "It's just – I grew up thinking I was a Half-blood. I talk shit about Pure-blood elitists, and now all of a sudden, I _am_ one. It's a lot to swallow."

"You're the same person you were yesterday, Winona," Lupin reminded her, a steady voice of reason. She nodded, reminding herself that he was right. Her blood status changed nothing. She was who she was – whether that was Pure-blooded or not didn't matter. Besides, look at the Weasleys. They were all of Pure-blood, even if they _were_ technically considered to be Blood-traitors.

"So, you knew me when I was a little, then," she began again, putting those musings aside.

Lupin put down his bottle of butterbeer, warm eyes narrowing as he considered her. "What do you want to know?" he asked plainly, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Winona chewed on her words for a moment, taking another sip of butterbeer just to put off talking that little while longer. "It's gonna sound stupid…" she finally muttered, tapping a fingernail restlessly against the tinted glass bottle.

"I highly doubt it," Lupin said kindly.

Forcing herself to draw on her supposed Gryffindor courage, Winona tilted up her chin and looked him in the eye. "Was I loved, Professor Lupin?"

Lupin seemed stunned by the question, which was apparently far from whatever he'd been expecting. Sympathy shone in his eyes, the kind she usually hated, only his wasn't born of pity, but rather a warm concern that was difficult for her to resent.

"Your parents loved you more than anything, Winona," he told her, and she was relieved to find it didn't sound like something he'd said to mollify her. It sounded sincere. "You were their pride and joy. They talked about you even when you weren't there. It drove the rest of us crazy sometimes…" he trailed off, eyes alight with memories she could never share.

"Why didn't you take me in?" she asked, unable to stem her curiosity. Lupin was stunned by the unexpected question, blinking at her wordlessly. Then pain flickered across his expression, and she knew the answer. "You thought I was dead too, didn't you?" she asked, but she already knew. She stood from her chair, too full of irritation to stay sitting down. "Everyone thought I was fucking _dead_. It isn't _fair._"

It sounded childish, when she said it like that. But that was how she felt. Like she'd been cheated out of something. Like something valuable had been stolen from her as a child. And it was – her identity. Her very life.

"Dumbledore and the Minister were only doing–" Lupin began to say.

"–what they thought was in my best interests, I know," she finished in a huff, downing the last of her butterbeer and placing it on the edge of the desk beside its cap. "But maybe I wouldn't have _minded_ growing up to be known as 'Sirius Black's Daughter'. Maybe I would have _liked _it."

"You're angry," Lupin said gently. "I understand. I'm sorry."

The fight drained from her, and she collapsed back into her chair, reaching up to rub at her aching temples.

"You have a grave," Lupin told her, quiet and steady. She looked up in mild surprise. "In Godric's Hollow, you're 'buried' beside Jessica – beside your mother." He paused, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "Every year on Halloween I go visit you. And Jessica and James and Lily. I leave flowers, talk to you all for awhile. It helps."

Winona was touched, her chest aching with a mixture of warmth and pain. Somehow the words helped. It made it easier, knowing that while he may have thought she was gone, he'd never truly forgotten her. Even to this day, she still mattered. "Thanks," she said, but the single word didn't quite encapsulate everything she wanted to convey.

Lupin seemed to understand, though, smiling at her gently, eyes flickering over her strong features and white-blonde hair.

"Why'm I blonde?" she asked abruptly, reaching up to finger a lock of her unusual hair. "Was my mum-" she cut herself off. It sounded too strange. She didn't like it. "Jessica," she said instead, "was she blonde?"

"No – you get that from Sirius," Lupin explained with a small twitch of his lips. "His family carries the blonde gene. You can see it in the Malfoy boy from Slytherin."

Winona's stomach dropped out from underneath her. "You're not saying I'm…" she trailed off, barely able to stomach the thought.

"Related to them?" he finished for her, the twitch turning into a smirk. "Unfortunately. Draco Malfoy's mother is a Black – Sirius' cousin, actually, making Draco-"

"My second cousin," she muttered, shuddering with disgust. "I think I just threw up in my mouth."

Lupin gave a low, unmistakable chuckle. "You'll get used to the idea, I'm sure," he said, finishing off his butterbeer and placing it gently beside hers.

"It really sucks that you're leaving," she told him with a sigh. "You are, without doubt, the _best_ Defence teacher we've ever had."

Lupin smiled, small and just a little pleased. "Thank you, Winona," he said modestly. "That means a lot, coming from you most of all." She smiled up at him, and there was a moment of total peace, each of them happy in one another's company, but then Lupin's eyes flickered down to the Map, and then opened his mouth and said, "Harry," just as Harry himself lifted a hand to knock on the door.

Harry looked stunned, and Lupin pointed down at his beloved Map.

"I saw you coming," he explained, but Harry didn't smile.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked, looking between the two anxiously.

"No, no," Winona assured him, climbing to her feet. "I was just going." She wandered over to the doorway, casting a look back at Lupin. "Thank you, Professor. This meant a lot."

"Just Remus, now, if you would," he said, a strange tension in his eyes. Like he thought she might reject him even now; shun him and pull away.

But Winona just smiled. "Remus," she agreed.

She squeezed Harry's arm as she passed, stepping out into the hall and taking a deep breath. It felt like the beginning of something, but she didn't know what.

She'd almost completely forgotten about Jeremiah – with everything that had happened over the past few days, her Slytherin lover wasn't exactly very high on her list of priorities. But he wasn't so easily neglected. He found her the morning they were due to get on the train back to London.

Using his customary greeting of yanking her into an empty classroom, she gave a yelp of surprise as he sealed his lips over hers. She wasn't really in the mood for a snog, but she kissed him back anyway, trying to make herself enjoy it.

It wasn't until he began to yank her shirt up over her chest that she gently pushed him away. "One for the road?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow in a move that almost made her give in.

"I can't," she told him quietly, pulling her shirt back down over her plain bra. "I've gotta get going."

"Surely you can spare a few minutes?" he pressed, leaning more aggressively into her personal space.

She wanted to make a smart-arse quip about him only needing that long, but it didn't seem like the sort of thing that would go over with him well.

"I really need to go," she said apologetically. She just wasn't in the mood, and she wasn't going to force herself to do something she didn't feel like doing. "I'll see you next term?" she asked hopefully.

He didn't look very happy, pulling away with a displeased scowl. "Fine," he said curtly, reaching up to adjust his immaculate green robes. She suddenly felt inadequate in her paint-stained jeans and holey old Weasley jumper.

"Will you write me over the summer?" she asked, hating how small she sounded, but not knowing how to fix it.

"We'll see," he muttered, striding back over to the door and peeking out. He looked back, casting her a final, intense stare, his dark eyes scanning up and down her body until finally he turned back around, tugging open the door and disappearing out into the hall.

Winona was left feeling numb, but it was hardly an uncommon side effect of her encounters with the Slytherin. She straightened her clothes, patted down her hair, told herself she was fine, and stepped out of the classroom, securing a smile on her face.

Before she knew it she was on the train back to London, and the further they travelled from Hogwarts, the worse she began to feel. What if Jeremiah never spoke to her again? Should she have just done what he'd wanted and shagged him? What if he was going to dump her, toss her away like yesterday's rubbish? The thought made her insides twist uncomfortably.

"Cheer up," said George loudly, thumping her on the back like it might in some way help. She turned away from where she'd been staring out the window, sullenly watching the Scottish countryside pass her by. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer, remember!"

"Is it?" she murmured distantly.

"Yeah! Dad said can get some tickets through work," Fred agreed brightly. "We'll get him to grab you one too, and you can come with us!"

Winona smiled, glad her friends were always there to help make her feel better. "That sounds great," she said, grinning back at them with an inch more sincerity.

"Are we not invited?" asked Lee dryly from the other end of the compartment.

"We know for a fact you're already going with your own families," George drawled.

"Still," pouted Lee, "it'd feel nice to be asked."

George threw an unopened Chocolate Frog at him, smacking him in the head and making the compartment roar with laughter. Winona was just getting into the spirit of things when the compartment door slid open and the group of rowdy friends all turned to eye the newcomer in surprise.

It was Harry, and he winced apologetically for interrupting. "Harry!" Lee crowed dramatically, the rest of the compartment – all members of the House team, added their own cheers. Harry looked uncomfortable under all the attention.

"What can we do for you, four-eyes?" asked George jovially, the cheerful grin on his face ensuring Harry wouldn't take the teasing to heart.

"Can I speak with Winnie for a moment?" Harry asked, catching his cousin's eye meaningfully.

Winona stood to her feet, smacking George upside the head as she moved. He yelped, but she didn't stop to look, ducking from the compartment with Harry, shutting the door securely after them.

"Everything okay, Boy-Wonder?" she asked him quietly. The corridor was empty, no one around to listen in, and the compartment behind them was full of noise again, her friends making the most of the time they had left together.

"We got letters from Sirius," Harry told her quietly, just to be on the safe side.

Heart leaping in her chest, Winona watched as he pulled an envelope out from his pocket, handing it over to her with a small smile. Glad her hands weren't shaking, she took it, eyeing the lettering on the front.

Her name was written in black ink, done in a beautiful cursive one could only achieve with lessons.

"They came to me so I could give the owl they came with as a gift to Ron," he added, as though concerned she would be upset they were delivered to him and not her. She only smiled, unbothered.

"Thank you, Harry," she said sincerely. He smiled back, waving her off before turning and walking back the way he'd come, giving her the time and space she needed to read the letter. Now that she was alone, her hands _did_ begin to shake. She was filled with a mounting sense of anticipation.

The words she'd exchanged with her father the week before had been quick and hurried. They hadn't had the time to say what so desperately needed to be said. She was almost scared, knowing that whatever was in the letter had the power to either make or destroy her. This was her _family;_ her _dad._

She leant against the window of the corridor, facing her friends who were paying her no attention, now playing some sort of game that had them all laughing uproariously. With trembling fingers, Winona ripped open the envelope, pulling out the parchment inside and laying her eyes on more of that immaculate cursive.

_Dearest Winona,_

_The last time I saw you, you were only three years old, showing me a drawing you did of your mother and I. I still remember the colours you used, and the way the green had gotten stuck under your fingernails. _

_I held onto this memory in Azkaban. I held onto every memory of you. They kept me sane, kept me alive. For the longest time I thought you were dead, and to see you again, alive and standing in the Gryffindor common room, grey eyes wide and so like mine – words cannot express how it made me feel._

_I have to stay in hiding, at least until I can find a way to clear my name and once more become a free man. Then I want nothing more than to start over, with you and Harry, as a family._

_I understand if this isn't what you want – if you'd rather stay where you are now. But I hope you'll let me into your life. Let me try and be your father again._

_I can't tell you where I am, but I can promise that I'll write you again soon. I'd like to keep up a correspondence, learn more about you – what you do and don't like, who your friends are, what you want to do after school. I want to know everything there is to know._

_Know that I'm sorry for how things worked out. If I could go back in time, there is so much that I would do differently. Stay safe._

_All my love,_

_Sirius_

She was choking back tears when Fred found her, quietly sliding the compartment door open, closing it after him and stepping out into the deserted corridor with her. "You alright, Win?" he asked delicately, taking note of her teary eyes.

"It's a letter. From my-" she cut herself off abruptly, knowing she wasn't ready to say that out loud. Not yet. "From Sirius," she amended, fingering the edge of the parchment fondly. It was a connection to him, the only one she had, so far.

"What does it say?" he asked, gentle but curious.

Winona smiled, the expression tinged with a lovely pain. "That he wishes he could go back and do things differently. That he wants to know me. That he loves me," she whispered, warmth mingling with hope in her gut.

"That's good, right?" Fred asked, unsure at her sad expression. "Aren't you happy?"

"I am," she said quickly, meaning it. "It's just…a lot to process. One minute I'm an unloved orphan, the next I've got a father and a cousin who want to become a real, proper family. It's…intense."

"But, that's good, yeah?" Fred pressed. "Don't you want that?"

Winona smiled. "Yeah," she confirmed with a cautious nod. "I think I do."

Fred smiled back, happy she was happy, and she nodded for them to duck back inside the compartment. She was content to play mindless games until they pulled into the station, enjoying the lingering grip she had on the magical world and her friends.

George helped her with her trunk when they arrived at King's Cross, pulling it from the train for her before moving to get his own. She said goodbye to her friends, making them promise to write and organise to meet up soon.

Their group whittled away until it was only her and the twins left, and both boys brightened when they saw the rest of their family standing by the barrier, waiting for them.

"Fred! George!" Mrs. Weasley called, dragging them into tight hugs the moment they were within range. They grumbled about it, but Winona could tell they were happy. "Winona – how are you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley continued when she noticed her, pulling her into a hug just as tight.

"Good thanks, Mrs. Weasley," she said, the words muffled in the older witch's shoulder.

"And where're your parents?" Mrs. Weasley asked, pulling back and scanning the sea of people for someone who looked like Winona might have belonged to them.

"Foster parents," she corrected, a tiny bit sharp, for which she felt bad. Mrs. Weasley smiled apologetically, and she did the same. "I'm taking the Knight Bus home," she told her, lifting her shoulder in a shrug.

"They couldn't come pick you up?"

"They're busy people," she waved off the woman's concern.

"Geez, hasn't seen her own sons in months and she's still more interested in chatting it up with Winnie," drawled Fred, utterly sarcastic.

Winona turned to smirk at both twins playfully, but before she could form a retort Mrs Weasley's attention was snagged by Ron and Harry, who were approaching quickly. She leapt onto them eagerly, leaving Winona alone with the twins.

"Write me, you hear?" she ordered them as sternly as she could.

"As soon as we hear anything about the Cup, we'll let you know," George swore.

"I'll just be happy to get out of the house as soon as possible," she muttered, watching as Mrs. Weasley fussed over Harry, the boy's cheeks a little pink. "Let me know when I can come over," she said, and the twins promised they would. "I should go," she said when she saw Harry begin to edge away. "I'll see you soon?"

"Don't you doubt it," Fred replied, and she quickly pressed herself up onto her toes, wrapping her arms securely around his neck. She hugged him tightly, shamelessly breathing in his perpetual scent of gunpowder and fresh soil. He squeezed her back, and she pulled away long enough to smile at him before quickly hugging George just the same.

Not wanting to miss Harry, she dropped back to her flat feet, blowing both boys a final kiss before turning and dragging her trunk in the direction of Harry and his uncle.

"Boy-Wonder!" she yelled over the hustle and bustle of the platform.

Harry turned around just in time for her to arrive, slipping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing him tightly. "Winnie," Harry greeted her with a bright look.

"Hey Uncle Vernon, I'm Winona – we met last summer," she said, beaming up at the walrus of a man brightly, like they were the best of friends. The older man's face went an alarming shade of purple.

"Don't call me your uncle," he spat like her mere existence offended him.

"Oh, but you see Uncle Vernon, Winona's my cousin," said Harry, utterly cheerful.

Vernon's jaw flapped about in shock. "Your – your…" he didn't seem to be able to form the words.

"My mum was his dad's sister," Winona told him brightly, still squeezing Harry tightly, the two of them having far more fun than they probably should have been. "We only found out a week ago, so it's still pretty fresh."

"You – I don't –"

"And my father is also Harry's _godfather_," she added happily. "Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

"Godfather?" he sputtered in pure shock, eyes wide and bloodshot. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," said Harry brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though…keep up with my news…check if I'm happy…"

Vernon looked about ready to burst a vein.

"Well, I'll leave you be, Uncle Vernon," Winona continued goadingly. "Give my best to Dudley – because I suppose I'm sorta his cousin too, now." Harry covered his sniggers with a cough, and Winona turned to wink at him playfully. "I'll see you soon, Harry," she said, ducking down to kiss him affectionately on the forehead before grinning at Vernon a final time and turning towards the barrier, in much higher spirits than before.

Because maybe nothing was certain, least of all the future, but now her past made some degree of sense. And maybe knowing where she'd come from was going to give her a clue about where to go next.

And damn if that didn't feel a lot like hope.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter – it's on the longer side, but I'm getting the sense you guys prefer that. I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review – some of you guessed half of this, while others had theories they didn't want to share. I hope this answered at least some of your questions about Winnie. I know there are more answers you all want; be patient – they'll come in time.**

**Review of the week goes to _Toreh_ – thank you so much for your review. When people take the time to write out their thoughts like you did it makes me feel less like I'm screaming this story into the void. You make me feel heard. I'm so glad you like the characterisation of the twins; it's a fine line to walk between keeping them true to canon – boisterous and loud to a fault – and adding in my own flavour of what I think they're like behind closed doors. I hope you continue to enjoy where I go with this story!**


	29. Winnie and the boys

"Maybe it'll be a mansion. With enough grounds for Buckbeak to wander through."

"Nah, I doubt it's going to be anything so flashy. Besides, people who live in mansions are always colossal arseholes. You're right about Buckbeak, though. He'll need somewhere to hang out."

"Do you think we'll get our own rooms?"

"No, I think he's going to make us sleep in bunkbeds."

Harry laughed at Winona's deadpan response, stuffing the last bit of his chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. "These cookies are great, by the way!" he said, happily picking up another one from the basket. "And the rest looks amazing too – you didn't have to go through all this trouble for me."

"Did I go a little overboard?" she wondered, eyeing the boxes and boxes full of baked goods she'd spent the better part of the last three days preparing.

"A little," he laughed happily, biting down on his chewy cookie – made just the way he liked them.

"Well, I couldn't exactly afford a proper present, and what with the news of Dudley's diet, I wanted to make sure you had enough to last you," she replied with a tiny smile.

"I love it, really," he assured her. "Just as well, because Hagrid's rock cakes aren't exactly…"

"Edible?"

"Be nice," he said, even as he laughed.

"You should try the red velvet cupcakes!" she said eagerly, reaching into one of the many boxes and pulling out a small, Gryffindor-red cupcake. "I actually went to a _library_ to find the recipe."

"Wow, and it didn't kill you?"

Winona threw her head back and laughed. She tossed him the cupcake and he snatched it out of the air with his Seeker's reflexes, taking a healthy bite. Winona watched him, took note of the happiness that clung to his face, the lightness in his eyes that was a relatively new addition.

"You seem happy," she said, leaning her head back against the edge of his bed. They were splayed across the floor in his bedroom.

It was Harry's fourteenth birthday, and the Dursley's had gone out for the day. Knowing this, Harry had invited Winona over and she'd readily agreed, coming armed with at least seven boxes full of her delicious, homemade treats for them to eat.

"I guess I am," Harry told her with a small smile, idly peeling away at the paper around the bottom of his cupcake. "I mean, being here is never fun – but it's been more bearable than usual."

"The threat of Sirius coming to murder them all still keeping them in line?" she asked with a smirk.

"Works like a charm."

Winona grinned, but before she could say anything there were a low tapping at the window. Both teens glanced up at the big, colourful bird flapping its wings to hover before the glass. "Speak of the wizard," she drawled, watching as Harry sprung to his feet, quickly opening the window to let the bird through. It was huge, struggling to fit through the gap, but eventually it squeezed through, landing on Harry's desk with a low squawk.

It had been carrying a small box in its long talons, which now sat beside it.

Harry tore open the note attached, scanning it with a growing smile. Then, like instinct, he handed it off for Winona to read it too.

It was indeed from Sirius, just a quick note wishing him a happy birthday, saying that he hoped he enjoyed his cake and that the Dursley's weren't too unbearable, then telling him to give her his love when he next saw her before signing off with his name.

Winona smiled, putting down the letter and looking over at the cake. It was red and gold, looking exceptionally fancy, like he'd gotten it done professionally, with the words 'Happy Birthday Harry' written in black icing across the top.

"Wanna have a slice?" asked Harry eagerly.

"I'll go smuggle a knife from the kitchen," she grinned, slipping out of the room and hurrying down the stairs. The house remained empty, for which she was thankful. There wasn't much the three Muggles could have done to her – even if she didn't have her wand on her, she was faster than all three combined – but it was nice not to have to worry.

She grabbed a knife from the holder and scurried up the stairs, slipping back into her cousin's room and wandering back over to the desk where the cake awaited.

"That Errol?" she asked with raised eyebrows, eyeing the raggedy owl, which puffed with exhaustion on the windowsill.

"Ron sent me a card," he explained, putting it down and opening the box along with it, revealing yet another cake, this one unmistakably done by Mrs Weasley.

"Cool, double cake!" she grinned, moving over to Sirius' one and beginning to cut it into slivers. They'd eaten two slices of each when Winona decided to launch into her next topic. "So Fred and George invited me to the Burrow this summer," she began carefully.

"Cool. When?" he asked, cutting himself yet another slice of cake, making her grin.

"They invited me to come tomorrow," she told him, and the piece of cake paused where it was on its journey towards his mouth. "It means I won't be able to come visit you anymore this month," she explained, although she was sure he'd already figured that part out.

"Oh," he said, putting down his cake with a frown.

"The guys know how much I hate it at my foster place, and so they got their mum to agree to let me go finish the summer with them. The World Cup is only in a couple of weeks anyway." Harry was still frowning. "But if you want, I can stay until then instead," she hurried to say. "I don't mind putting it off for a few weeks, if it means you're not alone."

"No, don't do that," he told her quickly, the frown disappearing. "I'm sure I'll be heading there soon myself. That's what Ron said last term, anyway."

"Once I'm there, I'll tell him to hurry up and let you know?" she offered. She didn't want to leave Harry, didn't want him to think she was abandoning him, but at the same time she really, really wanted to go spend the rest of her summer at the Burrow.

"Don't feel bad," he told her with a roll of his eyes, seeming to almost read her mind. "Go, have fun with the twins – you deserve it," he said sincerely, and she swallowed back the urge to gather him in a hug so tight he lost feeling in his arms.

"You're the best – you know that?" she asked with a large, sappy grin.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Come on then, Boy-Wonder," she said, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a pack of familiar, secondhand cards. "Up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

She left Harry's place that evening, a half hour before the Dursley's were due to arrive home. She made sure all his boxes of treats were hidden away, where his uncle wouldn't see them. They parted with a warm hug, and she pecked him affectionately on the head, right beside his famous scar, making his cheeks turn pink, before heading for the train station.

She spent the next day packing her things and preparing for her trip to the Burrow. The twins were coming by Floo, and she'd arranged for her foster parents to be out of the way when they arrived. They were both workaholics anyway, so it wasn't uncommon for them to be at work all the time.

She had the house to herself, and was reclined on the couch watching an old rerun of _Bewitched_ on the television when the fireplace flared to life, spitting out a very familiar, tall, lanky redhead.

"Win!" he crowed with delight upon seeing her.

"Fred!" she crowed right back, catapulting off the sofa and throwing herself into his arms. She gripped him fiercely, reminded of exactly how much she'd missed him this past month. He still smelt exactly the same, she found, squeezing tighter, his skin so warm it was nearly hot against hers.

The fireplace flared green again and an identical wizard appeared in the living room beside them. "Save some of her lovin' for the rest of us, Freddie," George drawled. Winona laughed, extracting herself from Fred's grasp to hug her other best friend.

"I'm _so_ glad you baboons are here!" she exclaimed, letting go of George and moving immediately over to her trunk and bag.

"Who're you calling baboons?" Fred demanded playfully.

She didn't bother answering the question. "You two gonna help me with my stuff or what?" she asked, and they hurried to pick up her things for her. She grinned at them happily, feeling almost like a missing piece of herself had slotted back into place with their arrival.

George tossed her the bag of Floo Powder, and she didn't even glance back as she ran into the fire, headed directly to the Burrow.

The living room was empty when she arrived, and she stepped out of the way just in time for George to appear, dragging her trunk after him with a low squeak.

Fred materialised a moment later, and then the fire died back down to a low, dull crackling. "Come on," said George, already heading for the stairs. "Let's get this stuff up to Ginny's room, then we can go play some Quidditch-"

"George – she only just got here. Let the poor girl settle in," Mrs Weasley's sharp voice cut through the air, and Winona turned with a smile.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley," she said politely, and the Weasley matriarch shuffled forwards to scoop the tiny Winona into a big, warm embrace. "How've you been?" she asked once she was free, able to breathe once again.

"Just fine, thank you, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled. "Now, I've got something to show you," she said, arm wrapped around her warmly, guiding her through to the kitchen. "Boys, go put away Winnie's things for her, will you?"

"She's _our_ friend, you know. Not yours," Fred grumbled petulantly, but neither woman paid him any attention.

Winona grinned to herself, the expression widening even more when she got into the kitchen and saw what was on the table.

"I found this in an old box of books I had stored up in the attic," Mrs Weasley began, tugging her to a stop beside the kitchen table, where a medium-sized book lay.

Its cover was pink and brown, proclaiming: _The Young Witch's Guide to Experimental Recipes_…_by Emily Emblem._

It looked well used, and Winona knew it meant a lot to Mrs Weasley when she pressed a hand lovingly against the cover. "It was given to me by my mother – it helps you learn how to build your own recipes, how to discover your own special flare for baking."

"And you want to give it to _me_?" Winona asked, understandably confused.

"Well, Ginny isn't really one for the culinary arts," she said quietly, as though it were a secret and not something anyone would notice within a minute of meeting the girl. "I think it'll be of much more use in your capable hands, dear."

"I – I don't know what to say…" Winona trailed off, humbled by the unexpected gift.

"Say you'll put it to good use."

"I'll put it to good use," Winona promised, and Mrs Weasley dragged her into yet another hug that reminded Winona strangely of Christmas morning. All hope and gingerbread.

She wandered up to Ginny's room a few minutes later, greeting the younger girl with a quick hug, asking her how her summer had been so far.

"It's been okay," she replied, reclining back on her bed and picking up the quill she'd been using to scribble on some parchment. "Mum's making me do my homework now, though. Said I was spending too much time playing Quidditch."

"That sucks," Winona said sympathetically.

"Have you done your homework yet?"

Winona snorted. "Fat chance."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The twins haven't either. No wonder Percy hates you."

"Percy hates me?"

"Thinks you're a bad influence on the twins," she replied. "Mum's told him off for saying it – in her eyes, you can do no wrong," she said, but the words weren't in any way bitter. They were playfully teasing, and Winona had to laugh.

"_Winnie_!"

When Fred's voice floated down from above them, Winona met Ginny's eyes, both of them exasperated. "Can't go three minutes on their own, I swear," Ginny muttered. Winona snorted in amusement, leaving the room with a wave and making her way up the stairs to the twins' room.

They were hovering over a cauldron, George stirring it carefully anticlockwise. "Good, you're here," George said without looking up from his task. "Can you help Fred design these order forms? We've got to figure out prices, and you're the only one of us who took Arithmancy."

"Do you even know what Arithmancy _is_?" she asked, sly and knowing.

"That's not the point," Fred waved her off.

"I've barely been here ten minutes and already you want to put me to work," she muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. "Unbelievable."

"Could be worse," Fred told her solemnly. "You could be talking about cauldron thickness with Percy. That's his newest assignment from the Ministry. You want me to take you to his room? I'm sure he'd love to regale you with talks of day-to-day Ministry life and his work with the Department of International Magical Cooperation," he said in a single breath.

Winona narrowed her eyes at him dangerously. "You play dirty, Fred."

He grinned, wide and charming as he winked at her, and it made her stomach do weird things, so she turned to the stack of parchment sitting in front of him, swiped the feathered quill from his fingers and got to work.

She was great with numbers, and something the twins had trouble with was pricing. They were right to come to her, because at this point they were just looking at their products and picking out a value that seemed fair.

Winona had to sit them both down and explain that their prices had to be dictated by the production and labor cost of each product, otherwise they were either losing revenue or overcharging to the point of callousness.

"How d'you know all this?" asked Fred a good several hours later, Mrs Weasley having called them all down for dinner. "Did you take a course on business while we weren't paying attention?"

She didn't, technically, but it was sorta close to the truth. She decided not to hold back – besides, as embarrassing as it kinda was, she'd done it to help them.

"Went to the library at the start of summer, looking for cookbooks to make Harry some extra food," she began to explain, hand gripping the railing as they made their way down the stairs, George a landing in front of them, hollering something down to Ron about not using up all the apple sauce again. "And while I was there, I took out a book or two about business," she shrugged, trying to convey that it was _not_ a big deal.

"You read a book for us?" Fred asked slowly, like he thought the words might have been in the wrong order.

"I know you guys are focused on the production side of things, I just thought I'd read up a bit, learn some more so I could teach you guys when you needed it," she explained. "I'm no expert, but I did learn at least enough to help you guys out now."

Fred was silent, he didn't say anything at all. She glanced over at him and he wasn't even looking at her, staring down at the stairs before them with his face pulled into a frown. She didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on in his head, so she let him think it through, speeding up to pounce playfully on George's back. He nearly tripped down the remaining flight of stairs, Winona's delighted laughter ringing after them like an echo.

The days passed quickly, and the trio of friends mostly stayed holed up in the twins' room, George and Fred hovering over cauldrons while Winona pored over the order forms, trying to make them perfect. When she wasn't working, she was curled in the corner, listening to them chatter as she sketched – and then occasionally she'd wander down to the kitchen to help Mrs Weasley prepare meals, or bake delicious treats for the family to enjoy after dinner.

The days passed quickly, and before she knew it she'd been there five days. She'd written to Sirius once and Harry twice, telling them how good of a time she'd been having. On the twins' orders she hadn't mentioned anything about WWW – they wanted it kept under wraps, mostly just so their mother didn't find out.

She'd had three visions in her time there so far. One had been of Harry, he was sitting on his bed, sad as he stared off into space. That wasn't uncommon, she usually had visions of Harry looking forlorn – she usually took it to mean he was lonely, and she'd written to him straight after.

Next was an image of a massive crowd in a looming stadium – and in the centre were two Quidditch teams. She'd drawn the World Cup.

"Don't happen to know the outcome, by any chance, Win?" George had asked her slyly, eyeing the piece carefully.

"Why would you want me to tell you the score?" she asked, bewildered. "That ruins all the excitement. It's bad enough that it's spoiled for me – you two are spared. Keep it that way."

They'd pouted and bemoaned for a full day, but she still didn't crack, and so eventually they gave up.

Her third vision was done while she was sketching anyway. She was halfheartedly listening to the twins, Ron, and Ginny play a game of Exploding Snap when it hit her. She dove under it for seemingly only a brief second, came back out to the present with a blink, nobody any the wiser.

She glanced down, knowing what she would see. She'd obviously been gone for a long while, because the sketch in her book was detailed and well-done, plus the group had moved onto Gobstones.

She looked up, hearing the sound of footsteps on the ceiling above her, and quickly slammed her sketchbook shut, drawing the attention of the others.

"_Fred_," she hissed at them sharply, "_George_." The urgent tone in her voice made them glance up immediately.

"What?" Fred asked, alarmed by the look on her face.

"Empty your pockets _right now_," she ordered them, keeping quiet so Mrs Weasley wouldn't overhear, her footsteps still creaking against the floor/ceiling.

"Empty our pockets?" repeated George in sheer bemusement.

"And give them to me, _now_," she hissed.

"Are you having us on?" Ron asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm not talking to you, Ron," she hissed again, growing anxious. The footsteps above them only seemed to be getting louder – they were running out of time! "Boys, _now_."

Relenting, the twins began to empty their pockets, handing over all sorts of crazy junk that they'd collected. She tossed aside all the unimportant things, ignoring their shouts of indignation, but when she got to the small stashes of their Skiving Snackbox range, she hastily tried to stuff them in her pockets, only to realise the stupid shorts she was wearing didn't have any.

With a low curse, she began to jam the sweets deep into her bra. The group of Weasleys watched on like they thought she'd just gone completely insane.

Then, from above them, there was a loud, piercing shriek of, "_FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY_!"

"Sorry, boys," Winona told them, sympathy in her eyes. "This isn't gonna be pretty."

The twins paled, along with Ron and Ginny, both of whom began scrambling away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

"She found them?" George asked, fear in his voice.

"She found them," Winona confirmed grimly.

"Found _what_?!" Ginny demanded, but nobody answered. The sound of heavy, angry footsteps slamming against the stairs was enough to have the twins standing to their feet, just so they'd be prepared if she attacked.

Mrs Weasley thundered into the room with all the force of an enraged hurricane, and Winona winced even before she'd opened her mouth to begin shouting.

"What in _Merlin's_ name are these?! _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_?!" she snarled, like the very name itself offended her.

"They're order forms, mum," replied Fred, keeping his cool better than Winona had expected him to. "For our joke shop."

"Your _what_?!"

"Our joke shop," George repeated, even and sincere. "The one we're opening after we finish school. Clever name, don't you think?" he attempted a friendly smile, but his mother responded only with a withering glare. She seemed to turn red, while the twins only grew more pale.

"You will _not_ be opening a joke shop – I've never heard such nonsense before in my life," she spat at them, and the sheer revulsion in her voice was enough to make their cool facades begin to crack.

"What, I s'pose you expect us to go into work in the Ministry, like dad and Percy?" asked Fred with a disgusted scowl, showing how much he loathed the idea.

"That's _exactly_ what I expect!" she shrieked at him. "You have no business making _order forms_," she cried, waving the forms in the air to punctuate her statement. "You will not be asking anyone for any money for these silly little…_gimmicks_."

The twins looked rightly hurt by her words. "Well, you can't stop us!" shouted George, standing his ground. Winona's eyes flickered between the three of them, watching on warily. Would wands be drawn? The twins couldn't technically do magic outside of school, but they'd found ways around the rule before.

"OH, CAN'T I?" Mrs Weasley screeched, stomping over to the roaring fire and tossing the order forms into the flames without so much as a moment of hesitation. Winona winced again.

"Mum!" Fred cried, betrayal thick on his face. "Winnie and I spent _days_ on those!"

"Oh, so_ Winona's_ involved?!" she hissed, spinning around to fix her furious eyes onto Winona. But she refused to break under the pressure. Mrs Weasley meant a great deal to her – but any loyalty she felt to her paled in comparison to that of the twins'. If it came down to choosing sides, well, it wasn't much of a choice at all.

"Yeah, I helped," she said evenly, tilting her chin up defiantly as she climbed to her feet. She didn't think Mrs Weasley would hit her – but it was better to be safe than sorry. She'd endured enough of this in the past to know when to be ready to make a run for it.

"What do you think you're doing, indulging them?!" Mrs Weasley shouted at her, eyes like those of a dragon. "You're meant to be a good influence on them! You should want the best for them!"

"I do!" she shouted back. "That's why I'm supporting them, Mrs Weasley! They can _do_ this!"

"I won't have you humouring them!"

"I'm _not_ humouring them! They're following their passion! They're going to have the best shop in Diagon Alley, and you're just pulling them down!"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Mum!" Fred shouted, stepping between his best friend and his mother, like a human shield to deflect her spiteful words. "Don't talk to her that way!" he yelled, scowling sternly at his irate mother. "At least she cares about what we _want._ You just want us all to be like Percy."

"I want nothing of the sort!" she snarled back, taking offence. "I will not allow you to throw your lives down the drain chasing some…some _daydream!_"

"_It_ _isn't a daydream!_"

"Only three OWLs each?! I expected better from the both of you!"

Fred and George groaned as one. Ginny and Ron had snuck off, leaving before things could turn out badly for either of them, too. Winona was still standing, heart racing in her chest. "Will you drop it, mum?" George begged her. "We got enough OWLS to open the shop – that's all that matters!"

"IT IS _NOT ALL THAT MATTERS!_" Mrs Weasley hollered, pointing a single, crooked finger at them in threat. "YOU'LL END UP JOBLESS AND HOMELESS AT THIS RATE!"

"Why can't you just believe in us for once?!" Fred shouted back. "Is it really such a stretch to actually believe we'll make something of ourselves?!"

"You won't make _anything_ of yourselves chasing this foolish dream," she hissed dangerously, hair seeming to crackle with rage. "I'm trying to _help_ you!"

"No, you're trying to _control _us!" George bellowed back. "We're doing this, and you _can't_ stop us!"

"That's it! I'm destroying everything!" she shouted, producing her wand and flicking it at them. The few paperclips and sticks of gum still left in their pockets flew into her hands, but nothing else. She didn't think to turn and try the summoning charm on Winona, just as she'd known she wouldn't. Mrs Weasley turned and stomped up the stairs, the twins rushing after her, begging her to stop, and to listen.

It nearly broke Winona's heart, hearing their desperate cries. This was everything they'd ever wanted, everything they'd worked for, burned in three seconds flat. Winona stomped up to Ginny's bedroom, letting the door slam after her, she threw herself into bed, the old bedsprings squeaking under her weight.

She didn't go down to dinner, but Mrs Weasley didn't call her to anyway, so she figured she probably wasn't welcome. She fell into a fitful sleep, only woken by Ginny as she quietly crept back into her bedroom.

"She hates me," Winona said, startling the younger girl. Ginny jumped, thinking she'd been asleep.

"She doesn't hate you," Ginny assured her as she quickly got changed for bed. "She already regrets blowing her top like that, I can tell."

"She hates me," Winona moaned again, sullen and petulant.

Ginny tutted her impatiently. "Win, mum loves you, she thinks the world of you – she's not going to shun you just because you had one disagreement."

"Yeah," she muttered, pressing her face harder into her pillow, her voice muffled from the feathers. "I guess you're right."

"She has fights like that with people all the time," Ginny told her as she climbed into her own bed. "Just go downstairs tomorrow like normal," she suggested. "It'll blow over in no time."

She wondered, suddenly, if Mrs Weasley knew that she was Sirius Black's daughter. Was that something she'd been allowed to know, back during the first war? She couldn't imagine it wasn't. And the way Mr and Mrs Weasley had looked at her at the beginning of last year…

Winona couldn't sleep – but that was hardly unusual. She tossed and turned well into the early hours of the morning, until eventually she just gave up, climbing silently out of bed so as to not wake Ginny and padding barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen.

She lit the fireplace and tried to read the cookbook Mrs Weasley had given her, but she struggled to read it without feeling guilty or paranoid – like Mrs Weasley would appear in front of her and snatch it back at any moment. She felt like something was coming, like something bad were on its way even in that very moment; like a train she couldn't stop.

She shook off the spooky feeling despite knowing that her feelings were rarely ever just _feelings. _Putting the book aside, she wandered through to the kitchen just as the sun began to rise, and quickly set about making breakfast.

It was busywork, but she liked it, enjoyed getting flour up her arms and chocolate under her fingernails. Baking was a lot like art, she'd found. They were both creative forms of self-expression. They both took hard work and persistence. By the time Mrs Weasley was meandering down the stairs she was just finishing up the first batch of pancake batter, focusing on heating up the stove to begin cooking them.

Winona's heart was in her stomach. She was scared about what Mrs Weasley would say. Would she ask her to leave? Tell her to get out of the house? It seemed extreme, but foster parents had said and done worse things to her in the past.

"Winona!" Mrs Weasley said, shrill in her surprise at seeing her standing there at the stove with batter on her cheek. "What're you doing?"

"Making breakfast," she answered, struggling to remain at ease, like she thought Mrs Weasley could maybe smell her fear.

"But…why?" the older witch asked, genuinely perplexed.

"I woke up early," she shrugged. It may have been a lie, but she considered it a white one. "Had an itch to cook and a craving for chocolate chip pancakes. Thought I'd kill too birds with one stone." She paused when Mrs Weasley didn't say anything. "I hope that's okay…" she said, suddenly wondering if she'd overstepped and this was when she'd get tossed out and she'd never be allowed back and oh Merlin where would she go––

"Not at all, sweetheart," Mrs Weasley assured her with a kind smile that instantly made her wary. "I'll set about making some orange juice," she said, and the pair worked in silence for a few long, tense minutes.

Winona knew she should have been talking about the night before, hashing out what had happened and keeping things from building up and becoming awkward – but she couldn't put the thought out of her mind that maybe Mrs Weasley _knew._ She knew who Winona was, where she'd come from.

Had she been lying to her this entire time? Dumbledore's deceit, she could handle – the old warlock had a hand in everything, always playing an angle – but she thought that Mrs Weasley's might just be enough to break her.

She stopped mixing the batter, turning to look at Mrs Weasley so sharply that the older witch paused too, turning to meet her eyes cautiously. "Do you know who my parents are?" Winona asked, blunt as could be.

Mrs Weasley's eyes went wide, and she seemed to flush red under the pressure of the question. "Uh – I don't –" she stammered.

"It's okay, take your time," Winona drawled, aware that she was being condescending, but unable to help herself. It was rather a sensitive issue.

"Jessica and Orion Andrews were their names, right dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, trying a little too hard to sound casual. Winona felt the mortifying urge to cry, but she bit down on the inside of her cheek until it went away.

"Right," she murmured, disappointed by the answer. She should have known hoping for the truth would only lead to more disappointment. Mrs Weasley made a small sound of acknowledgement, turning back to her work. "So you _didn't_ know their real names were Jessica Potter and Sirius Black?" she asked, deadpan and even – a challenge.

Mrs Weasley dropped the knife she'd been slicing oranges with, and it landed in the sink with a loud clatter. Winona felt a curl of victory, but didn't take the time to bask in it.

"Why did you lie to me?" Winona asked Mrs Weasley gently, a genuine curiosity in her voice, and a mild pain that was always there, simmering just under the surface. "Nearly five years I've known you, and not once did you think it fair to tell me, oh, by the way, I know who your parents are – and one of them isn't dead!" she blurted, unable to help herself. She put down the bowl of pancake batter with a thump, resting her hands on the lip of the countertop. "I would have appreciated some honesty," she said, no fight left in her voice. "From you of all people; the only mum I've ever known."

Mrs Weasley sniffled from where she was stood, and guilt trickled into Winona's gut like a poison. She bit back a groan. Here she was, intending to patch things up with the woman, and instead she was making her cry!

"I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, I didn't mean to make you…" she trailed off awkwardly. This wasn't really her area.

"No, no," Mrs Weasley dabbed at her eyes with a tea towel. "It's okay, Winona. You're right. I thought about telling you so many times – particularly after Black escaped. But – I'm not making excuses – but, Dumbledore asked us not to. It was for your own good, he said. And I thought, well – what you didn't know couldn't hurt you."

Anger raged in her veins for a moment of scorching heat before it evaporated, replaced by only grim acceptance and hazy exhaustion.

"You're nothing like him," Mrs Weasley told her, the words were meant to be comforting, but they were empty. She'd been told by people who knew him well that they were incredibly alike. Still, she half-appreciated the effort.

"He's innocent, y'know?" she tried halfheartedly.

Mrs Weasley was stunned into silence for a few moments. "I – I'm sure that's what you'd like to believe, Winona, but-"

"It's okay," she said, lifted her shoulders in a shrug, a weak smile on her lips. "Agree to disagree."

Mrs Weasley clearly wanted to unpack that a little more, but Winona was closed on the subject, and she could sense it.

"I really thought I was doing what was best for you," she whispered, watching carefully as Winona began to tip more chocolate chips into her batter.

"What was best for me would have been to let me know Harry's my family," she said, the words hard. She wasn't mad at Mrs Weasley, or anyone, really. She was just mad at life, and the way it had screwed her – the way it had screwed both her _and_ Harry. "Anyway," she said with another shrug. "What's done is done. All we can do is move forwards."

Mrs Weasley sniffled again. "I'm sorry about the other night, Winnie," she apologised quietly. "I don't want anything to come between us…I'm just doing what's in the twins' best interest."

Winona smiled, finding the dark humour in it all. "So am I," she said, and that was that.

People idled their way down to breakfast, the twins stiff and grumpy and refusing to talk to their mother. Winona sat between them, offering them second helpings and carrying on a conversation with Mr Weasley about Muggle music, and how it differed from the magical kind.

The days passed quickly after that. The tension between the twins and their mother remained, but things between her and Winona had cooled, and they were back to cooking together as normal.

About a week passed, filled with the same routine as before. The twins had to be more secretive about what they were making, how they were making it, and where they were storing it – but they still kept inventing, never once being deterred.

Late one Friday afternoon, Winona was holed up with the twins as they tried to sort out some new order forms when Mr Weasley shouted, "Ron, Ginny – everyone! Come look who's arrived!"

The twins looked up, bright eyed and happy as they clamoured to their feet, practically tripping over one another in their race to the door. Bemused, Winona wandered down after them, stepping into the sitting room to see two taller redheads standing by the fireplace, both of them being embraced by various members of the family.

She recognised one of them and lit up herself, beaming brightly as she hurried over to his side. He saw her coming – the only blonde in a sea of red – and opened his arms for a hug.

"Charlie!" she called happily, gripping him tightly and laughing loudly as he hefted her up off her feet. "What're you doing here?!" she asked once he'd put her back on solid ground.

"As if I'd miss the Quidditch World Cup!" he scoffed. "So, you got pretty but lost the brains – well, it was a noble sacrifice to make–"

"Charlie!" Mrs Weasley gasped, smacking her son's shoulder in reprimand.

But Charlie and Winona both just laughed, and he ruffled her hair playfully.

"You must be Winona," said a new voice, this one deeper and just a little rougher than his brothers'. He was tall, with long hair and a fang hanging from one of his ears. He was dressed in clothes that someone at a rock concert might wear – and she was definitely digging it. "My brothers all seem to be quite taken with you," he added slyly.

"Good to know," Winona replied with an impish grin. "You must be Bill."

"That's I am," he grinned, shaking her hand politely.

"Come on then, everyone!" called Mrs Weasley to her small army of children. "Everybody wash up for dinner! Especially you, Charlie. You look like you've been wrestling pigs."

"More like dragons, Mum, but yeah," Charlie grinned. The kids all laughed, taking their brothers up the stairs while Winona wandered through to the kitchen where she was quickly put to work taking things out of the oven and mixing up some fresh lemonade for everyone to have with dinner.

Bill was the first one back, and he collapsed in a chair at the dinner table, grinning at Winona roguishly.

"So then," he began the moment his mother had flitted form the room, muttering something about needing to fetch more parsley, "which one of us are you going to marry?"

Choking on thin air, Winona turned away from the jug of lemonade she was mixing and raised her brows at his gall. "Sorry?" she asked, uncharacteristically squeaky.

"I mean, statistically speaking, you're probably going to marry one of us," Bill told her coyly.

"Show me these statistics you speak of," she replied once she'd recovered, rolling her eyes as him and moving over to begin cutting some more lemons for the drink.

"Well, we know it can't be me," he said casually. "No offence, but I think I'm a tad old for you-"

"Stop-" she tried to say with a gasp, her hands suddenly freezing, knife clattering to the floor.

"I didn't mean to offend you-"

"Get me some thing to draw with!" she hissed at him, black spots appearing in her vision.

Bill looked startled. "What?" he asked, eyeing her with mounting alarm.

"Parchment, a quill – anything!" she ordered, gripping onto the edge of the counter as the world swayed beneath her.

Bill was beyond confused, but he was also a wizard, and he knew when not to ask questions.

A moment passed and something was pressed into her hands, and so she let the current of time envelop her.

Music, bright and happy. People were dancing – they were having fun. A redhead, tall and scruffy – and a blonde girl, more beautiful than words could describe. It was all happening so fast. Laughter, the sound of champagne being opened, the scrape of forks against plates ––

Winona jolted back to the present to find she was sat on the floor, her back against the counter. In her hand was a piece of parchment, a letter of some kind that she'd used the back of. In her other hand was a quill. On the parchment itself were two people, stood at the end of an isle, both staring deeply into one another's eyes.

"Winona?" Bill's voice invaded her senses, and she blinked, glancing up at him in surprise. She'd forgotten he was there. "Are you okay?" he asked, holding out a hand to pull her up off the floor.

"Sometimes I call them _episodes_," she told him mildly, not wanting to say what they really were – _visions._ "Here," she said. It was his future, and something told her he deserved – he _needed_ – to see it. "This is for you."

He'd never looked more perplexed in his life. He took the parchment, eyeing the sketch carefully. "Is this…a drawing of you and I…getting married?" he asked with a single, cocked brow.

"What?" she hissed, cheeks warming up. "No!" She snatching it back, holding it up to the light properly. "It's your future wedding. You're going to get married to someone blonde. She'll be beautiful; too beautiful to believe. And the wedding is going to be stunning."

"Uh-huh," he hummed, processing it all slowly. "And what's this scar running across my face?"

She considered the question, but couldn't seem to conjure an answer. "I dunno," she shrugged helplessly. "Watch out for that one, I guess."

Bill was staring at her like she were a puzzle he were trying hard to solve. "You're a wannabe Seer, then?"

"Less wannabe, more actually-am," she replied. She wasn't sure why she was telling him, but she got the feeling that he could be trusted – that he would _have _to be trusted sometime in the distant future. Him knowing this was meant to be.

"And you're telling me because…" he trailed off pointedly.

"I'm at the whim of the aether, Bill," she told him matter-of-factly, "I'm just doing what I'm told." He looked even more curious now. "In return for me telling you who you're gonna marry, and all – do me a favour and don't tell anyone I can do this," she told him with a hopeful smile. "The twins know – and Harry, Ron and Hermione – and Dumbledore. But that's _it_, and it needs to stay that way."

"Yeah," he said, turning his warm eyes back to the rough sketch she'd just done. "Yeah, if it's real – and I'm not saying it is – then I'd say you'd have a pretty high price on your head," he murmured thoughtfully.

She smiled at him, wide and happy. Another person knew – but instead of terrified she found herself feeling relieved. He was a Weasley – and if there was someone she could always trust, it was a Weasley. (Except Percy; he didn't count.)

Dinner was a fun affair, littered with Charlie and Bill's exciting stories from abroad. Mrs Weasley spent half of it trying to convince Bill to cut his hair, and the other half trying not to cry at how dangerous Charlie's job was.

After they'd finished the last of the strawberry tarts that Winona had made for dessert, she and the twins hurried up to their room, cleaning it out for their brothers to stay in instead.

"Not fair that Percy gets his own room and we have to share with _Ron_," Fred muttered with a groan of irritation.

"So, I told Bill I was a Seer," Winona blurted from where she was reclined in the corner, making no move to help them strip their beds.

"You _what_?!" the twins asked as one, whipping around to gape at Winona in shock.

"Bit hard not to when I had a vision right in front of him," she said in her defence. "Besides, the vision was about him – and I didn't actually use the word 'Seer'. Let him think what he wants. But he won't run off telling anyone."

Fred and George continued to stare, and Winona rolled her eyes. "What was the vision?" George finally asked, curious to know.

"I saw his wedding," she shrugged.

"His wedding," Fred echoed in sheer surprise.

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Why does _any_ of this happen, Fred?" she asked, rolling her eyes again. "Come on."

"I don't think it was a good idea," he said, frowning deeply. "You only just met him."

Winona swallowed back the laughter that came bubbling up. "He's _your_ _brother_," she reminded him, staring into his eyes for the words to sink in. The tips of his ears slowly turned an embarrassed scarlet. Winona smirked at the familiar sight. "Come on," she said, taking pity. "Let's move the stash of products somewhere else – last thing we need is your mum stumbling across them again."

Having Charlie and Bill there was heaps of fun. She'd never thought of the Weasley family as incomplete before, but suddenly she could see the holes that had lingered when they'd left, by seeing what they looked like now, filled.

They played a lot of Quidditch, mixing up the teams often. One person always had to play umpire, because Percy refused to play and otherwise the teams were uneven. Fred and George tried to argue that Winona wasn't even that good, so it really evened out in the end, but despite their efforts (which were, in all honesty, a tiny bit hurtful) everyone still insisted that someone sit out as umpire. But they played so often that it didn't matter, and everybody had a good time.

Hermione arrived the day before they were due to go get Harry. She greeted them all with a bright smile, sparing the women hugs before they ushered her up to their room. Then they went down and helped with dinner together while they talked about their summers.

Ron, Fred and George moaned they were being boring, but Winona shooed them away with the threat of pepper to the eyes and they scurried out to de-gnome the garden instead.

"What about you, Winnie?" Hermione asked once she'd finished recounting a story where a boy bit her father on the finger while in the dentist's chair. She'd snorted, more at how amusing Hermione found this little anecdote than anything else. "What did you get up to this summer?"

"Until I came here, I was really just hanging out with Harry," she replied distractedly, scanning the recipe for how much cinnamon to add to her snickerdoodles before tripling it in her head to feed all the people crammed into the Burrow.

"He told me in his letters that he really loved having you spend time with him," Hermione told her with a gentle smile, and Winona grinned over her shoulder as she shook the contents spice jar into the batter.

"I love spending time with him too," she replied, picking up the spoon to begin mixing. "I've always felt connected to him – at first just because of my visions, I guess – but now that I know he's my _family_…" she trailed off, a smile on her face. "It makes me really happy that we get on so well. I always thought that was what family should be like, y'know, in a perfect world."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked politely, taking another sip of the tea Winona had made for them both.

"Well, I grew up in foster care, and ironically, nobody in foster care actually _cares_," she explained. She'd gotten to a point where saying this to someone was easier. Not _easy,_ exactly, but _easier._ She trusted Hermione, they were friends, and Winona knew she wasn't going to judge her for her upbringing. "I kinda grew up thinking love didn't exist. Thinking that real families didn't exist – they were just something movies made up to make like seem better than it really was."

"What changed?" Hermione asked, curious.

Winona began to roll the dough into little balls, squishing them down, one by one, onto the baking tray. "Hogwarts; the twins," she replied with a small, happy smile.

"The twins are…great," Hermione said unconvincingly. Winona had to laugh. "They are!" she insisted, but Winona saw through her like glass. "I guess I just can't imagine them being the reason anyone would start to believe in love and families again," Hermione admitted. "Do you want some help with that?"

"Sure," Winona said, nodding for her to wash her hands before showing her how to do it and moving over so they both had room to work. "I can definitely see where you're coming from," she continued once they'd fallen into a steady rhythm. "They put on a front; a loud, silly, boisterous kind of front. But they can be serious too, you know?"

Hermione didn't look convinced.

"They can," she insisted with another laugh. "They can be sincere, and gentle. When I come to them with something serious, they don't play it off as a joke. They talk to me about it. They help me, more than anyone else ever has."

"Why aren't they like that with anyone else, though?"

"I guess you just have to earn it," she shrugged.

"How did _you_ earn it?" she asked, a tiny smile on her lips.

Winona considered it, pursing her lips as she worked. "I dunno, actually," she said. "I guess, like I told you early last term – they're my _people_," she told her honestly. "It's just how it works with your people. A two-way bond. Or, three-way, in our case – ha ha, three-way," she chortled slyly.

"How old are you, again?" Hermione asked wryly.

"The jury's out," Winona grinned. "But back to the point – suddenly I've got this family_. _This huge, ethnically mixed, multi-cultural _family. _It's strange for someone like me to get something this good. And now Harry's a huge part of that."

"It's the same for Harry," Hermione told her. "As far as blood-relations go, you're all he has."

"No pressure," Winona joked with a soft laugh. Hermione smiled, but otherwise didn't comment. "Anyways, do you think we're going to have a good year at Hogwarts?" she asked, growing tired of talking about the boys. "You dropped a few classes, right? No more time turner?"

"Shh!" Hermione hushed her sharply, nearly dropping a ball of dough in the process. "Not so loud."

"Sorry. So, what'd you drop?"

"Divination and Muggle Studies," she revealed with a disappointed sigh. "I would have loved to stay in Muggle Studies, but it really is the least important subject I'm taking. I'm not even learning anything, I got three hundred and twenty percent on my final exam––"

"How is that even _possible_?" Winona interjected, but she went ignored.

"But it was just too much to take on, I admit that now. And of course Divination is out of the question. I couldn't waste another minute on that _ridiculous_ subject-" Winona cleared her throat pointedly and Hermione's cheeks went pink. "I mean…sorry," she apologised, embarrassed.

Grinning wickedly, Winona merely changed the subject, telling her that she thought she'd like Arithmancy a lot this coming year, and the conversation faded into talk of numbers and school subjects, and things were easy.

* * *

The day came for them to go get Harry, and Winona was so excited to see him she was practically bouncing on her toes. "All right," said Mr Weasley after a long day of waiting and anticipation. "Ron, it's time to go fetch Harry. Are you coming?"

"Yeah! Let me just find some shoes..." he scurried away, and Mr Weasley glanced down at his watch.

"Can I come too, Mr Weasley?" Winona asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air in her eagerness.

Mr Weasley blinked at her in surprise, but then nodded his head. "Of course," he smiled. "Harry'll be happy to see you again."

"And us, dad!" Fred and George had appeared, grinning in a way that just spelled trouble. "We're coming too!"

Now Mr Weasley looked unsure. "Uh, I don't know, boys…don't want to overcrowd the Muggles."

"We just wanna see the inside of a Muggle house, dad," said George innocently, both with wide, pleading eyes focused on their father.

"Yeah, we wanna learn more about Muggles," Fred agreed.

And with that their father melted like butter. "Oh, all right then," he caved. "Put some shoes on, we want to make a good impression on these Muggles – they're Harry's family, after all."

Winona wasn't sure that statement was entirely true, but she didn't speak up, moving over to the fireplace and waiting.

Once the boys had all arrived back, shoes firmly on their feet, Mr Weasley went first, shouting Harry's address and disappearing into the flames. "Guess what," Fred began with a large, wicked grin.

"What?" Winona asked, careful and wary.

"We've got a surprise for you," he singsonged to her, and she cocked a single eyebrow at him curiously.

"Am I going to love it or hate it?" she asked warily, watching as he sauntered towards the fire.

"I guess we're about to find out," he said, disappearing into the flames. George followed, and once George he gone, Winona took a pinch herself, turning to look at Ron with a grin before she too shouted her destination and stepped into the flames.

Like being sucked down a tube, she was startled when she was spat out the other end, only to smack into something warm and hard.

"Ouch! What the hell?!" she exclaimed, shoved against what felt like a hard, grimy wall by another body. "_Ouch – _Fred, get off my foot!"

"It's pitch black, how do you even know it's me?!"

"How do you think, pea-brain?" she hissed back, yelping again when George's elbow rammed her in the stomach. "Ouch! Guys, come _on_."

"Everybody stay calm," Mr Weasley's voice ordered from somewhere close by. What had happened? Why were they locked in a tiny room?

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad — maybe he'll be able to let us out —" Fred suggested, and as one all the Weasleys, plus Winona, began to call out for the Boy-Who-Lived to help them.

"_Mr Weasley? Can you hear me?_" Harry's voice was muffled but still there.

"Shh!" she hushed the boys, leaning around Mr Weasley to better hear.

"_Mr Weasley, it's Harry…the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there._"

"Damn!" Mr Weasley swore, and Winona snickered at the preposterous situation they'd found themselves in.

"Why didn't you know that?" George asked her.

"I've never exactly come round for tea!" she exclaimed in reply, irritated by the accusation. "How was I meant to know the fireplace had been blocked up?!"

"_They've got an electric fire,_" Harry called through the wall, hearing their bickering.

"Really?" Mr Weasley asked, suddenly less concerned and more eager for details. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that… Let's think – ouch, Ron!"

Winona grunted as Ron's bony elbow knocked her clear across the head. She let out a curse that was far from ladylike and made the twins snort.

"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?" Ron asked in sheer bewilderment.

"Oh no, Ron," Fred replied, utterly sarcastic. "No, this is _exactly_ where we wanted to end up."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," added George dryly.

Ron twitched and nearly jabbed Winona in the eye with his elbow. "If you hit me with your elbow _one more time_ –" she threatened him dangerously.

"Boys, Winona," said Mr. Weasley, calm and just the tiniest hint exasperated. "I'm trying to think what to do… Yes … only way … Stand back, Harry." There was a beat, and from the other side of the wall she heard Vernon Dursley's voice shout out in protest, but it was too late, Mr Weasley had already drawn his wand, muttering, "_Bombarda._"

The wall exploded outwards, chippings and rubble flying everywhere. Winona brought her sleeve up to cover her mouth, coughing as she inhaled some of the dust.

Blinking it from her eyes, she saw they were in the Dursley's living room. She supposed it had once been immaculate, but now it might as well have been a war zone. Dust and debris covered everything, and the Muggles were staring at them in pure, unadulterated horror.

Unsure how to handle the situation, Winona just elected to ignore them and move over to Harry. Both of them were covered in a thick layer of white dust, but neither cared as she brought him in for a quick but warm hug.

"Was that the funniest thing ever, or what?" she whispered into his ear as they embraced, and he snorted loudly into her shoulder, covering it with an unconvincing cough as she pulled away.

"Er — yes — sorry about that," Mr Weasley was saying from behind them. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see — just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking — but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send Winnie and the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."

"Winnie and the boys," Winona said to Fred and George with a large, shit-eating grin. "We should start a band."

They snickered.

"Hello, Harry!" said Mr Weasley brightly, turning to look at her cousin with a smile. "Got your trunk ready?"

"It's upstairs," Harry replied, grinning back happily.

"We'll get it," said Fred quickly, before anybody else could offer. He turned to wink in Winona and Harry's direction, and she bit her lip to stifle a smirk as they disappeared up the stairs.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very — erm — very nice place you've got here." Winona laughed silently, the whole thing beyond hilarious, and judging by the looks on Ron and Harry's faces, they were trying very hard not to break out into laughter too.

Mr Weasley was sweet, continuing to try and make smalltalk with the Dursley's, all of whom looked ready to lay an egg. Dudley shuffled into the room, and Winona couldn't help but mutter, "it is me, or has he grown?" to Harry and Ron, both of whom could no longer contain their laughter.

A few tense, awkward and hilarious minutes later, the twins had reappeared, carrying Harry's trunk between them.

"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley, suddenly seeming just as relieved to get going. "Better get cracking then." He lit the fire, which crackled healthily, then said, "off you go then, Fred."

"Coming," said Fred, entirely too innocent. "Oh no — hang on —"

Winona watched as Fred 'accidentally' dropped a small pouch full of toffees, all of them brightly coloured in all the shades she'd suggested for the shop. She struggled to keep her expression calm. Whatever they were planning, it was going to be brilliant, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin it by giving it away too early with her excitement.

He knelt down to gather up all the sweets, then turned for the fire, shouting, "the Burrow!" and disappearing in a flare of green flame.

"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley briskly, "you and the trunk."

George left, followed quickly by Ron, then it was just Harry, Winona and Mr. Weasley who remained.

"Well … bye, then," Harry said to the Dursleys, utterly unbothered. He tried to turn away, but Mr Weasley stopped him.

"Harry said good-bye to you," the head of the Weasley house said, brow furrowed in confusion. "Didn't you hear him?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered, head ducked. "Honestly, I don't care."

But Mr Weasley didn't move. "You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said, staring at the Dursleys in indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"

They looked like the very last thing they were interested in doing was saying goodbye, but they glanced warily at Mr Weasley's wand and muttered, "goodbye, then."

"See you," Harry responded with the same lack of enthusiasm, turning to step into the fire. Only before he could, there was a loud choking sound. Everyone quickly turned to look at the source. Dudley was clutching at his throat, barely able to breathe because out of his mouth, growing larger and thicker with every tick of the clock, was his great, slimy, swelling tongue.

Winona let out a squeak of surprise that very quickly turned into a laugh. She was near hysterical, watching Petunia yank desperately at her son's tongue, not seeming to realise it was attached to his body. Harry chortled from beside her.

The small family wouldn't listen to Mr Weasley's apologies and reassurances, Vernon even began to toss china figurines at them, as though it might in any way help. It was pure chaos, and Winona was utterly delighted.

"Winnie – just go!" Mr Weasley shouted over the mayhem. "You too, Harry! I'll sort this out!"

The cousins met one another's eye, then when a figurine flew so close to them they felt it brush their skin, they nodded in agreement. Harry pushed her towards the fire first and she relented, stepping into it, shouting, "the Burrow!" and gladly disappearing from the bedlam.

She tripped out into the Weasley's kitchen to find hands grasping her by the waist, keeping her from face-planting into the floor. "What happened? Did he eat it?" Fred was asking her eagerly.

But Winona was still laughing. She hadn't stopped.

A beat later Harry tripped out too, and sensing he wasn't going to get any answers from her, Fred turned to help her cousin to his feet, asking eagerly, "did he eat it?"

"Yeah," Harry told him, seemingly dazed. "What was it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly, turning to look at Winona, whose hysterical laughter had slowed, replaced with low chuckling and a wide, proud smile. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"

"Because no one in this house is stupid enough to eat _anything_ these lumps offer them," Winona explained, and the tiny kitchen exploded with laughter.

It was then that Harry seemed to noticed Bill and Charlie, blinking at them in surprise. He greeted them both, shaking their hands politely. Before they could offer any proper introductions there was the soft _pop_ of someone apparating and Mr Weasley appeared beside George, literally out of thin air.

"That _wasn't funny_, Fred!" he was shouting before he'd even fully appeared. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with an evil grin that made Winona need to smother another laugh. "I just dropped it… It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."

"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet —"

"How big did his tongue get?" George asked his dad eagerly, practically dancing on the spot in his glee.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!" Mr Weasley said, furious at his sons.

The kitchen roared with laughter, and Winona hopped up onto the tabletop, letting her legs swing under her as she watched the show with a grin.

"It isn't funny!" Mr Weasley shouted desperately. "That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard–Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons —"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" cried Fred indignantly. The thought of him being a supremacist was an insulting one.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great, bullying git," added George primly. "Isn't he, Harry?"

"Yeah, he is, Mr Weasley," Harry supplied earnestly.

"That's not the point!" shouted Mr Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother —"

"Tell me what?" a new voice spoke, and everybody in the kitchen practically froze at the sound of it. "Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting the young boy and smiling at him kindly. "Tell me what, Arthur?" she pressed, turning to her husband expectantly.

Mr Weasley didn't speak, staring at his wife and doing a brilliant impression of a frog who'd just been hit with a Stunning Spell.

"Tell me _what_, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley repeated, voice now low and dangerous. Winona was already looking for a casual way to escape the oncoming disaster.

"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr Weasley, "Fred and George just — but I've had words with them —"

"What have they done this time?" demanded Mrs Weasley in a dark voice. Scolding them already, without even knowing what had happened. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes —"

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway, loud and obvious. She had the right idea, but she just wasn't sticking the landing.

"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron obliviously, "in my room, he slept there last —"

"We can all go," Hermione hissed, eyes flickering to the doorway pointedly.

"Oh," said Ron, finally getting it. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," said George hopefully.

"You stay right where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley. Winona clicked her tongue uncomfortably. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in the crossfire once again.

Harry and Ron carefully edged out of the kitchen, and with a teasing salute to the twins, Winona happily followed them to safety.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's currently Christmas Eve where I am, so I guess you could call this one a Christmas present – if you celebrate the holiday, that is. Personally I love the holidays – it's boiling hot in Australia and I'm planning to eat my weight in seafood tomorrow with my family and spend half the day in the pool; how do you guys celebrate the holidays where you live?**

**Happy Holidays – I'll see you soon with another new chapter!**

**This week's review mention goes to the guest reviewer "Vanessa". Thanks so much for your review! I can't believe you've read all my stuff – I'm both humbled and amazed. I'm glad you like my characters, it's always the hope when you're writing OC fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the many, many to come.**


	30. It'd really cheer us up

When the morning began with Mrs Weasley finding the twins' stash of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Winona wasn't sure it was going to be such a great day. Still, she held onto hope.

As the Weasleys, Winona, Harry and Hermione all wandered away from the Burrow, the twins remained quiet and sullen. Winona could barely handle seeing them so down. She sped up, walking faster so she met up with them, slipping one arm through Fred's and the other through George's, gripping them tightly.

"Cheer up, Buttercup," she told them, the same thing Fred said to her on her bad days, but it wasn't enough to make either of them smile. Winona wilted like a rose. "What would help?" she asked, but again, neither responded. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with something that would bring them from their sullen attitudes.

"Actually, you know what would help?" Fred spoke up, and she tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

"What?"

"If you told us who wins the match," George said, excitement in his voice.

Winona frowned. "Guys, I already told you, it'll just ruin it for you," she tried to argue.

"It won't, we swear," Fred promised. "Come on, Win. _Please?_"

"Guys, I just don't feel right about–"

"Please, Winnie?" George pressed hopefully. "It'd really cheer us up."

Winona sighed, knowing now that she was only fighting a losing battle. "Fine!" she exclaimed, huffing as she walked. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was paying them any attention. "Ireland wins but Krum catches the Snitch," she finally said, looking back at them with crinkled nose and narrowed eyes. "There, are you happy now?"

As if by magic, they both cheered up, leaning down simultaneously to smack obnoxious kisses against each of her cheeks.

"Ugh," she exclaimed dramatically, wiping furiously at her face and scowling at them in playful annoyance. "Why would you even _want_ to know, anyway? The match won't be nearly as exciting now."

But the twins only shared a look but didn't comment. Again Winona got that swooping feeling in her stomach, like something was wrong but she didn't know what. She rolled her eyes again, but didn't question it. The twins would do as the twins would do – she just hoped nobody was going to get hurt in the process.

All of them panting for breath in the frigid air as they finally reached their destination. It was still so early that the sky remained dark, but the stars were slowly beginning to disappear, replaced by the muted, peachy glow of the oncoming sunrise.

The hill they had to climb was steep and uneven, and more often than not Winona had to grasp hold of the twins in an effort to keep from slipping on the dewey grass and tumbling back down to the bottom.

Finally their feet met level ground, and she let go of her vicelike grip on George's arm, pressing a hand against her throat, which hurt from all the panting.

"Whew," breathed Mr Weasley as they stood atop the tall hill, just as worn out as the rest of them. "Well, we've made good time – we've got ten minutes."

Winona paused, turning to look over the valley from their new vantage point. The soft, peachy haze of the sunrise bathed them all in an almost ethereal glow. She inhaled again, the crisp morning air clearing out her fuzzy head.

"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr Weasley was saying from behind her. "It won't be big. Come on…"

Everyone began to search, and Winona reluctantly pulled away from the view to join them. She'd never used a Portkey before, but she'd learnt about them in class. She knew it would be an unassuming object, something that probably looked like litter. But, scanning the hill they were sat upon, she couldn't see anything resembling junk.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!" cried a new voice. Winona turned in surprise, just barely catching sight of two figures stood on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr Weasley, heading towards the newcomers cheerfully. Confused, the group of kids could do no more than follow. Mr Weasley was enthusiastically shaking hands with shorter of the two, who held a mouldy old boot in his free hand, gripping it tightly. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr Weasley introduced him to them all. Winona lifted a hand in a small wave. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Behind him was Cedric, the Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team – Winona knew this because he'd beaten Harry in their first match the year before, but when he'd found out Harry had fallen, declared it wasn't fair and tried to get a rematch. Nobody else had agreed, but she'd appreciated his conviction.

He was handsome, something her dorm mates rarely let her forget. Katie even had a thing for him at one point – but she was sure _everyone_ in the school had, at one point or another.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all. He was smiling, but the expression was a little meek. Not what Winona expected from a star Quidditch player. But then again, most of the ones she knew were also Gryffindors.

"Hey, Cedric," she greeted him politely, then elbowed the twins, who hadn't spoken. They gave insincere little grumbles of acknowledgement, but only because she'd told them to. Exasperated, Winona rolled her eyes. They were still holding the Quidditch match from last year against him. If there was one thing the twins never let go of, it was a grudge.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Amos asked brightly.

"Not too bad," Mr Weasley told him with a smile. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still … not complaining … Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy." Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Winona, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?" he asked jovially.

"Oh no, only the redheads," Mr Weasley replied with a nervous laugh, the idea of having so many children probably terrifying. He pointed out his offspring, then listed the extras. "This is Winona, Fred and George's friend; Hermione, friend of Ron's — and Harry, another friend —"

"Merlin's beard," breathed Amos Diggory, his eyes widening like dinner plates. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

Winona saw Harry freeze up under the attention. "Er — yeah," he said, a little awkward. Winona watched as Amos' eyes flickered up to the lightning-bolt scar that sat, clear as day, on her cousin's forehead.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," Amos was saying loudly. "Told us all about playing against you last year. I said to him, I said — Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will … You beat Harry Potter!"

Winona's patience for the man thinned, and by now she was scowling at him right along with Fred and George.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric muttered, cheeks flushing a soft pink. "I told you … it was an accident."

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" cried Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. Winona's scowl deepened. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman … but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Excuse me?" Winona couldn't possibly keep silent. His blithe words were hurtful, not just to her but surely to Harry himself, whose cheeks looked a little flushed with irritation. She took a step forwards – either to slap the guy or just give him an earful, she hadn't yet decided – but Fred and George had the good sense to grasp her arms and hold her back. Amos looked rather frightened for a moment, like Winona were a rabid animal snarling from its place on a chain.

Cedric looked like he'd be perfectly happy for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, reaching up to run a hand over his thinning hair. His eyes shifted nervously between Amos and a seething Winona. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?" he asked, dragging the attention from the small verbal mishap.

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Amos, eyes flickered back to Winona, only to find her scowl set in place like concrete. He quickly looked away again. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off. We'd better get ready…" He turned towards Winona, Harry and Hermione, the former of whom had reluctantly stopped glaring at Amos like she wanted to scalp him where he stood. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do," he told them with a small smile.

It was difficult with their big, bulky backpacks, but they all managed to crowd around the gross old boot, touching it with a finger each.

They stood there for a full minute in a slightly uncomfortable silence. The breeze was chilly, and Winona instinctively leant into Fred's side, only to frown, disappointed she couldn't feel the warmth of his skin through their thick jackets.

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two…one…"

Travelling by Portkey was rough and uncomfortable. The only upside was that it didn't last long. One minute she was being hurled through the air at a thousand miles an hour, the next she was landing hard on the ground, like some invisible force had body-slammed her into the earth.

Groaning, she rolled onto her black, blinking dazedly up at the sky above her, trying to bring down her racing pulse. She wiggled her fingers and toes, just to be sure nothing was broken. Her shoulder ached like a bitch, but she didn't think it was dislocated.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice she didn't recognise, and a hand appeared in her vision. She gratefully too hold of Fred's hand, letting him pull her gently to her feet.

"Morning, Basil," Mr Weasley greeted the wizard who'd spoken. He was dressed in a tweed suit and gumboots, eyes practically drooping with exhaustion. The two seemed to be colleagues, talking between themselves for a moment.

"All right?" Fred asked Winona, noticing the way she was slowly rolling her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded, still rotating her aching joint. "Just hit the ground too hard."

"Okay you lot – this way!" called Mr Weasley, setting off walking again. The group of teens tried not to groan as they turned to follow. The grass beneath them was still wet and dewey, and Winona could feel the cold of it seeping up through her ratty old sneakers.

They made it to a small cottage, where they awkwardly tried to get past the Muggle groundskeeper. In the end a wizard had to show up, casting a quick memory charm to keep him happy.

"That doesn't seem ethical," Winona murmured to the girls beside her.

Hermione hummed in agreement. "I mean, it doesn't hurt him, I suppose," she reasoned, but her brow was furrowed in clear concern.

They wandered through the campsite, and Winona didn't bother to close her gaping mouth, staring at the magnificence of the tents they passed. Some of them might as well have been castles, with water fountains and turrets and spires. It was ridiculous, and at the same time a little impressive.

"Ah, here we are!" Mr Weasley finally announced, coming to a stop beside a small area of land that held a sign reading _WEEZLY_. "We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult. Muggles do it all the time. Here, Harry, where d'you reckon we should start?" Mr Weasley asked eagerly as he pulled two folded up tents from his backpack. Suddenly Harry looked incredibly out of his depth. She couldn't imagine the Dursleys had ever taken him camping before.

"Do you have instructions, Mr Weasley?" Winona stepped forwards, and Harry just about slumped to the dirt in relief.

"Uh, no," Mr Weasley frowned anxiously. "Should I?"

Winona laughed. "It's alright," she assured him, turning to Harry and then Hermione, who had just joined them, sensing she could be of some use. "We can do this, right, gang?" she asked hopefully.

Hermione was already taking charge, pulling the compacted poles and pegs out of the supplied bags. Between the three of them, they managed to figure out where everything went. It took them a little longer than they'd hoped, but eventually both tents were erect and gleaming in the fresh, early daylight.

"Girls, that one's yours – boys, you're in here," Mr Weasley said, getting to his hands and knees and crawling inside one of the tents. The boys all began to follow him, but Hermione and Winona stood outside their designated tent, just staring.

"Gin?" Winona called into the tent, which looked barely big enough for one of them to fit inside, let alone all three.

"Just come in!" Ginny yelled back at them through the fabric. "You'll see!" she added with a laugh.

Hesitant, Winona glanced at Hermione, who nodded back, and one by one the two of them crawled inside the tent…only to find it was _bigger on the inside_.

Like a small flat in London owned by an old lady with a passion for crochet, the tent had three rooms, including a bathroom and a kitchen, and it was full of furniture covered in knitted blankets. The whole place smelled like some kind of stale perfume, but it looked warm and comfy, so they couldn't complain.

They were barely there for a full two minutes before Harry and Ron came to find Hermione, the three of them wandering off to collect some water for the group.

"Why do we have to have a separate tent?" Winona complained once she and Ginny had been alone for a total of five minutes, tossing Ginny's miniature Quaffle between them for a lack of anything better to do. "It's not like we're gonna shag any of them, are we?"

Ginny snorted loudly, breaking out into unrestrained laughter. "Come on," she said once she'd calmed, rolling her eyes at Winona's usual crassness. "I'm sure we're allowed to _visit_ the other tent."

Fred and George were lazing on the grass outside of their tent, while Mr Weasley was hovering over a small pile of firewood, eagerly attempting to light a match, but having little success.

Winona dropped to the ground between the twins, curling her arms around her knees and eyeing Mr Weasley with amusement. "D'you think I should help him?" she asked them quietly, watching as he splintered another match, its remains dropping to the dirt beneath him.

"Don't you dare," George said, plucking a small handful of grass and tearing it up just for something to do with his hands. "Look at him, he's having the time of his life."

And it was true, despite his lack of a fire, Mr Weasley was grinning broadly, letting out excited little giggles every time he made sparks appear the Muggle way. Winona smiled, enjoying his delight as she leant back against the cool grass, blinking up into the sky where the sun was shining, big and bright, warming her skin pleasantly.

Ginny sat down with them, beginning to talk excitedly about the upcoming match. Fred and George quickly joined in, analysing the different players and the strategies they thought would get used. Fred in particular was hoping to see a good Wronski feint.

Winona loved Quidditch, and during the matches could really get into the game – but the nuances between the players and the plays they pulled were lost on her. But she was happy to see the Weasleys looking so happy. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her sketchbook and a whittled down pencil, leaning against the side of the tent and absentmindedly beginning a sketch of the campgrounds and the eclectic wizards' tents filling it.

It was at least an hour until Harry, Hermione and Ron finally wandered back, bucket of water in tow.

"You've been ages," complained George, breaking away from his discussion with Ginny about Krum – Seeker of the Bulgarians' team and the one she knew would be ending the match tonight. She wished she didn't know that, but sometimes foresight could be awfully inconvenient.

"Met a few people," Ron replied, setting the water down and eyeing the pile of unlit firewood. "You not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

"You couldn't start it for him, Winona?" Ron complained.

"Look at him, Ronald," she replied, throwing a hand out in his dad's direction. "He's having the time of his life. Far be it for me to put a stop to his fun."

Ron frowned, turning expectantly to Hermione, who rolled her eyes and wandered over to Mr Weasley with a kind smile. At last they got the fire lit, but it took awhile to heat up enough to cook with it. The group lounged around, with Mr Weasley offering commentary on the passing Ministry officials. Winona only half listened, more interested with the getting the shading in her sketch _just_ right.

She didn't even realise anyone had put on the food until she could smell the sausages as they cooked.

Percy, Charlie and Bill all arrived as they were handing out lunch, and Fred made a lewd joke about Percy that had Winona and Ginny choking on their eggs.

"Aha!" Mr Weasley exclaimed suddenly, when they were about halfway through their lunch. "The man of the moment! Ludo!" he said, pushing his plate aside and climbing to his feet.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was bounced as he walked, quite like an excitable child, making Winona briefly doubt his age. "Arthur, old man," he said as he reached them, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming … and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements. Not much for me to do!"

Percy jerked forwards with his hand outstretched, like if he didn't shake the man's hand right then and there, he might just explode. Bagman took it, only a little bit hesitant.

"Ah — yes," said Mr Weasley, smiling wide and proud, "this is my son, Percy. He's just started at the Ministry — and this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that's Fred — Bill, Charlie, Ron — my daughter, Ginny — the twins' friend, Winona Andrews –– and then those there are Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman's eyes immediately flickered up to Harry's infamous scar, and Winona turned to roll her eyes along with Ginny.

"Everyone," Mr Weasley continued, oblivious to the exchange, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets —"

Bagman puffed his chest out, reminding Winona suddenly of Percy. She already hated him.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" Bagman asked eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match," he said with a greasy smile.

"Oh … go on then," said Mr Weasley, rooting around in his pockets nervously before pulling out a single Galleon. "Let's see … a Galleon on Ireland to win?" he offered with a smile.

"A Galleon?" the man looked disappointed with the small bet, but thankfully didn't say anything. Which was just as well, because Winona would have hit him if he had. "Very well, very well … any other takers?" he asked hopefully.

"They're a bit young to be gambling," Mr Weasley told him immediately. "Molly wouldn't like it —"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Winona gaped at them in pure shock, eyes wide and insides frozen as she tried to figure out what was happening.

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that —" Percy hissed as they handed over the wand, but when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!" he grinned, and the beamed proudly.

"Boys," said Mr Weasley in a hiss, "I don't want you betting. That's all your savings … Your mother —"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance. I'll give you excellent odds on that one. We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"

Mr Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George brightly, taking the slip of parchment and tucking it away carefully. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll …"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred with a dismissive wave of his hand. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

But Winona wasn't listening, her mind was a swirl of noisy activity.

She wasn't sure why she was so hurt. Why couldn't the twins profit off her gift? Somebody might as well, and she'd have wanted it to be them, if anyone. But the thing was, _they_ knew that something about it wasn't right, otherwise they would have told her about their plans. Instead they'd manipulated the results out of her, then used it for their own benefit. And she didn't begrudge them the money – really, she didn't – but the way they'd gone behind her back to get it made her feel cheap and used. She wasn't a money machine – she was their friend, and they should have told her what they were planning to do.

Hurt curdling in her gut like expired milk, she stood silently to her feet. Holding her sketchbook tightly to her chest, she slipped away into her tent, unnoticed by any of the Weasleys.

It was an hour before anyone came to look for her, and when they did it was only Harry, the twins nowhere to be seen. Her cousin found her laying on the couch in the main room of the girls' tent, idly sketching a hippogriff that looked a lot like Buckbeak.

"Are you sulking?" is what he opened with, and Winona glanced up from her halfhearted sketching to send him her flattest look.

"Is it still sulking if it's justified?" she asked; a fair enough question, in her opinion.

Harry smiled, coming over and gingerly taking a seat on the couch by her feet. His hair was longer now, like he'd been growing it. She reached out and tugged at a lock of the inky black hair. He batted her hand away with a crinkle of his nose. "Go on," he prompted her. "What's wrong? We're at the _Quidditch World Cup,_" he said, as though it might have somehow escaped her notice.

"It's nothing," she said, lifting her shoulders in a dismissive shrug.

"Is it _really_ nothing or do you just not want to talk about it?" he asked, surprising her with how well he knew her.

She hoped she wasn't pouting. "I just don't want to talk about it," she admitted. Harry just laughed.

"I got you something," he told her, reaching behind him and producing a small set of binoculars. "They're Omnioculars to watch the game with," he explained. "The guy selling them said you can replay action, slow everything down, and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown."

She took the small, brass Omnioculars, smiling at him happily. "Thanks, Harry," she said warmly, grinning as she sat back against the back of the couch and peered at him through them. His big green eyes looked like proper emeralds through the lenses, and at the sight of them she felt better than she had before.

She was still angry at the twins – what they'd done was a dick move – but she was now sure that she wasn't going to let it ruin her time at the World Cup.

She let Harry drag her back out into the fading daylight, where the others were singing some kind of song in support of Ireland. Fred saw her reappear and instinctively moved to make room for her to sit beside him, but in a petty move that she didn't _actually_ think was all that petty, Winona sat down between Harry and Hermione instead, listening to Ron talk about Krum like he was considering starting his own religion.

Winona was too mad to look over at the twins, frustrated and still hurt by their actions. So she stuck with the younger kids while the twins messed around with Bill and Charlie. Percy sat alone, scribbling something onto a small notepad and peering through the hectic campgrounds like he were looking for something to report to Crouch.

Finally, just when Winona was beginning to grow bored of sucking on the Sugar Quill she'd brought and listening to Ron wax poetic about Viktor Krum, the sound of a loud gong rang throughout the campgrounds and lanterns were lit by magic, guiding a path up to the field.

"It's time!" Mr Weasley looked like he was trying not to squeal like an overexcited pre-teen. "Come on, let's go!"

The stadium itself was huge, bigger and more grand than anything Winona had imagined. Harry looked equally as stunned, gaping up at it in shock. Their party were sat in the Top Box, and they had to climb hundreds and hundreds of stairs to get there. Winona began to feel winded about halfway up, gripping onto the railing and pressing a hand against the stitch in her side.

"All right there, Winnie?" Fred appeared beside her, concern on his face.

"Fine," she snapped back, ducking around him and pushing forwards even though it felt like a hole was being burnt through her ribcage. Finally, just when she was contemplating throwing herself over the railing to the ground below, they arrived at their seats.

Fred and George automatically moved to her side, and despite being upset, she decided not to move away. She was _their_ friend, and they were the reason she was even there at all, so she grit her teeth and sank down into a seat with Harry on her right and Fred on her left, with George on _his_ left.

The two of them were talking animatedly with Charlie, who sat on their other side, and from her right Harry, Hermione and Ron were all talking to a House Elf sat behind them. Feeling a little out of place, Winona did what she always did when she was uncomfortable – she pulled her sketchbook out from the bag she'd stubbornly carried up the stairs with her (it never left her side, lest she get thrown into a vision and be left without anything to draw with), yanking free a pencil and beginning to sketch in the warm lighting the Box offered.

"Always with your head in a sketchbook," George's voice tutted from beside her, and she looked away from her sketch of a pair of goblins enjoying high tea.

"I felt like sketching," she replied, voice cold. "That a crime, now?"

"We're at the _World Cup_, Win," Fred reminded her, the second person to do so today, which set her teeth on edge. "Best seats in the whole stadium. Enjoy it."

"Sketching calms me down when I'm angry."

"Angry?" the twins parroted as one.

"Oh, don't play dumb," she snapped back, feeling the thin grip on her patience slip away into nothing. "You know exactly what you did."

"Winnie-" Fred tried to say, but she didn't let him finish. She wasn't in the mood for apologies – if she was even going to get any.

"I'm mad at you both. And I'm going to continue to be mad at you both until I've calmed down. And do you know what calms me down?"

"Sketching?" George ventured warily, like he were afraid she might bite him if he answered wrong.

She scowled at him, turning with a huff and attempting to submerge herself in her art once again. The pressure she applied to her pencil was so strong it broke the graphite end. "Look Win – we didn't mean to-" Fred tried to explain, but anything he was about to say was interrupted as a plump bloke in expensive robes shuffled past them. At the sight of him Percy shot up from his chair like he'd been shot, dropping into a bow so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

Winona realised quickly that this guy was important, but she didn't get how important until Harry stood to his feet, shaking the shorter man's hand. "Minister, nice to see you again," he was saying politely. Suddenly feeling underdressed, Winona climbed awkwardly to her feet. "Have you met my cousin, Winona?"

Harry realised his error in the same instant that Winona did, and they turned to meet one another's eyes. Were they telling people she knew who she was now? It wasn't something they'd discussed. The people close to them knew she knew, but beyond that, the area was grey…

Fudge was stunned by the casual proclamation of her lineage, and his expression twisted as he turned his eyes onto her. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see Sirius Black in her eyes?

"Yes, Miss…" the Minister trailed off unsurely, reaching out to grasp her hand.

She took it, however reluctant, shaking cordially. "I still go by Andrews, sir," she assured him, and he was relieved.

"Yes, well, lovely to meet you officially, Miss Andrews," he said, giving a final, polite smile before turning just as two men shuffled to his side. Immediately the attention was gone from her, and she sank back into her seat with relief, however kept one ear trained on their conversation.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian beside him, loud so as to be heard over the noise of the stadium. The other man stared back without recognition, giving Winona the impression that he didn't know much English. "Harry Potter … oh come on now, you know who he is … the boy who survived You-Know-Who … you do know who he is —"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly in his native language, pointing at it and beaming as if he'd won the lottery. Winona didn't like the way they stared at Harry like he were something in a zoo, but knew better than to comment, merely sinking deeper into her seat and returning her eyes to the Pitch.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," Fudge was saying to Harry in a tired, overworked sort of voice. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat. Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places … ah, and here's Lucius – and Ezra!"

Winona turned to see two families walking towards them. One was the Malfoys, all pointed faces and shiny blonde hair almost the same shade as Winona's (which irked her to no end; the last thing she wanted was anything tying her to the _Malfoys_). The other family was tall and handsome, and one of them was painfully familiar. Her heart stuttered in her chest, then restarted again at double-time.

Jeremiah Nott noticed her in the same moment, dark brown eyes finding hers, a sexy, wicked smirk appearing on his stupidly attractive face.

Spinning back around in her chair to stare at the Pitch, she reconsidered hurling herself over the railing. The fall was significant, and with any luck would kill her. She'd lived long enough already, why not just end it all right here and now?

But she remained glued in her seat, frozen as she listened to the conversation happening behind her.

"Ah, Fudge," Malfoy Sr. was saying, voice as slimy as his personality. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" Fudge replied, perfectly cordial. "And Ezra, lovely to see you and your boys out and about. Theodore and Jeremiah, wasn't it?"

"Fudge," Mr Nott said in a dark, smoky kind of a voice that made chills appear across Winona's skin – and not the good kind.

"Allow me to introduce you both to Mr Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr — well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

"Good lord, Arthur," Malfoy said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Ezra here is a good pal of mine from school – between you and I, he and his boys always get the best seats at these events. Oh – and Lucius there has just given a _very_ generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How — how nice," said Mr Weasley in response, sounding very much like he'd forced the words out through gritted teeth.

The Notts all settled into their seats – which unfortunately happened to be directly behind Winona, Fred and George. She could feel the weight of Jeremiah's stare on the back of her head. Much like Mr Weasley, Winona grit her teeth, sinking down further into her seat like it might help her disappear altogether. If she could Apparate, she'd have been out of there before someone could say 'Slytherin-shagger'.

She was so distracted by Jeremiah's presence and the way it made her heart race and her skin prickle, that she flinched in surprise when Ludo Bagman's voice washed over them, magically enhanced and booming into every nook and cranny of the entire, overflowing stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen … welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce … the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"I wonder what they've brought," Mr Weasley mused, from the end of the row. "Aaah – _veela_!"

Winona had learnt about veela the year before, in Defence Against the Dark Arts while Lupin was their teacher. She'd never seen one in person before, and so when about a hundred veela floated out onto the field, she was understandably surprised.

They glowed ethereally in the lights of the stadium, and once they started dancing it was hard to look away. They were stunning, yes, but she didn't feel the pull described in the textbooks – probably because she wasn't male.

The twins, on the other hand, were practically drooling over the veela, leaning forwards in their seats like they were about to leap into empty air, absentmindedly batting one another out of the way in an attempt to get a better look.

Irritated, Winona rolled her eyes and reached out to grasp the back of Fred's shirt. She may have been angry with him, but she didn't want the guy to fall to his death on account of a couple dozen supernaturally beautiful con-artists.

"Harry, what _are_ you doing?" Hermione asked from a few seta down, and Winona's hand shot out to grasp Harry as all, who'd also been making to launch himself off the railing and into the crowd below.

"Unbelievable," Winona muttered sourly.

All of a sudden, the low, seductive music playing came to a stop, the stadium falling silent for one blissful second before it was filled with the furious cries of outrage from the disappointed men, all of whom wanted to watch the veela dance just a little bit more.

"_Honestly_," Hermione muffed from Harry's other side, and Winona shared a lovely eye roll with the younger student.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air … for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Desperately hoping it wasn't going to be any more veela, Winona was pleased when something of a glittering comet shot across the field. It broke in two, each moving to a different end of the field, and then a shimmering rainbow appeared, connecting them both. It wasn't until the gold coins began falling that Winona realised what it was.

Grinning widely, she reached out, grasping ahold of the coins falling from the cloud of the little, green-clad Leprechauns, stuffing them deep into her pocket for safe keeping.

The teams were announced, the wizards shooting out from below the stadium on their brooms, moving almost too fast for Winona's eyes to follow. Then the game began and everything began to bleed into one massive, thrilling blur.

* * *

The match was incredible and even despite knowing what the outcome would be, Winona still found herself on the edge of her seat, screaming profanities at the referee that made Percy flush from a few seats down, turning to eye Fudge, shooting him apologetic glances that went unnoticed.

Just as she'd Seen, Ireland won by a total of ten points, with Krum catching the Snitch and ending the match.

They all flooded from the Top Box, but before Winona could move onto the first step a hand caught her arm. With a flash of awareness, she knew who it was; the same hand had yanked her inside empty classrooms and broom closets the year before.

She whirled around to meet Jeremiah's eyes.

Everybody around them was distracted, chattering amongst themselves excitedly, too high from the thrill of the game to notice the pair of teens in the corner, caught up in one another's dangerous stare.

"Jeremiah," she said, but her voice was quiet, lost in the loud jubilation of the crowd.

"I'll see you at school?" he asked, leaning closer to her so she could hear, fingers still wrapped firmly around her bicep.

"Yeah," she replied, breathless from the proximity. Flashes appeared in her head, much like a vision, but hardly one at all. She saw endless skin, sticky from sweat and rosy with exertion.

Before she could come up with anything clever or cute to add, a shadow fell over them and they turned to see Fred and George hovering nearby, both taller that them, dangerous glares directed at a dispassionate Jeremiah. "Can we help you?" George asked, voice like ice.

"I doubt it," Jeremiah sneered back, peering at them like their very existence disgusted him.

"Then kindly take your hands _off _our friend and bugger off back to whatever hole you slithered out of," Fred snarled, reaching down and grasping ahold of Winona, pulling her back out of the Slytherin's reach. She immediately felt the loss of contact, but she couldn't decide whether it was a bad sensation or a good one. Was she sad or relieved? The feelings had blurred together – just like all the lines she was crossing.

Jeremiah held his hands up in a mocking sort of surrender. Somebody called his name, the word shouted over the roar of the crowd, and he took the time to shoot Winona a final wink before turning and blending into the thick throng of people leaving the Top Box.

"What'd he want?" asked Fred her, ducking lower so they could talk without having to shout. "Did he hurt you?"

Winona's irritation returned. The gall he had to suggest such a thing. So far, the only one who'd hurt her was him. "No, Fred," she snapped back, angry and not in the mood to dance around the issue, "_you_ did."

With that, Winona turned and linked arms with Ginny so they didn't get lost in the sea of celebrating wizards, starting a conversation with the younger witch about Krum and that impressive Wronski Feint he'd pulled. Ginny didn't seem to realise anything was amiss, chatting back happily, and the two trailed after the group, voices raised to be heard over the crowd.

They made it back to the tents and all crowded into the boys' one. The kids all begged Mr Weasley to let them stay up a while longer – still wired from the excitement of the match – and finally he caved and agreed to let them stay up for just one more cup of cocoa.

Fred and George began twirling in circles around a flushing Ron, singing loudly and obnoxiously about their brother's feelings for the Bulgarian Seeker. Ginny joined in for a few versus, and ordinarily Winona would too, but she wasn't in the mood, keeping curled up on one of the couches between Harry and Charlie, chuckling good-naturedly at Ron's bright red cheeks.

Finally, when Ginny spilt her hot chocolate by falling asleep at the table, Mr Weasley sent them all the bed. Hermione helped Ginny to her feet, then beckoned Winona after her, heading for the girls' tent.

Winona threw an arm around Harry, squeezing him affectionately in a wordless goodnight, before standing to her feet and wandering over to the flap of the entrance. Outside the air was cool against her face, and she trailed after Hermione and Ginny, watching as they disappeared inside their own tent. She was just about to follow when a hand grasped her arm, spinning her around to face the owner.

It was Fred, with George hovering directly behind him. Her carefree expression melted into a scowl, and she quickly tore her arm from his grasp, uncomfortable – for maybe the first time ever – with him touching her. Hurt flitted across his face, but she was beyond caring.

"What's going on, Win?" he demanded, George nodding in his agreement of the question. "We thought you'd be happy – we got the gold we need for the shop!"

"I'm not mad you got the gold – you both know I'm thrilled," she said earnestly, because surely they did. How could she ever be anything other than supportive? But this wasn't about that. This was about the way they'd gone about it. "I'm _mad_ that you went behind my back to get it," she said, knowing in her heart that she couldn't let this one go. She was too upset, too slighted to let it fade away like nothing.

"We didn't go behind your back–" George tried to argue, but she wasn't having a bar of it.

"Yes, you did," she said coldly. "Don't deny it. It'll only make me more angry."

The twins exchanged a wordless glance, which served to fan the flames of her frustration.

"If you'd _told_ me you wanted to know the results so you could bet your life savings on them, I would have helped," she hissed, keeping her voice low so the passing throngs of elated, celebrating wizards wouldn't overhear. The last thing she needed was to be found out as a Seer because of this whole mess. "But instead you _lied–_"

"We didn't lie!" Fred tried to argue.

"An omission of the truth is still a _lie_, Fred," she growled, hurt still seeping into her veins, like somebody had left a tap of anger on inside of her body. "You _used_ me," she spat, barely able to believe the words.

"We didn't!" Fred said again, voice raised, coated with a thin layer of desperation.

"Will you stop denying it, already? It's only making you seem like even more of a jerk," she hissed at him, frustrated and tired. "You manipulated the results out of me, then used them for your own gain. Which is exactly the reason I don't want anyone else to know. You broke my trust."

Finally the twins looked guilty, but before they could speak the flap to their tent rustled and Harry stepped out, eyebrows raised as he looked between the three of them warily. "Everything okay, Winnie?" he asked quietly, taking in her tense posture and the twins' remorseful looks.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said, unsure whether it was even true. She met his eyes in the soft glow of the Leprechauns' lanterns floating in the sky above them. "I'll see you tomorrow." She cast him a final smile, then without so much as glancing at the twins she turned and slipped into the girls' tent.

Ginny was already passed out in her bed, and Hermione was leaning over the sink in the bathroom, diligently brushing her teeth. "Everything okay?" the soon-to-be fourth year asked curiously around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Winona wished people would stop asking her that, but despite her frustration she just smiled and nodded, quickly changing into the old, paint-stained shirt she usually wore to bed and climbing onto her bunk.

Hermione was tired, saying a quick goodnight before falling asleep on top of her own covers. Winona wasn't tired. She moved one of the still-lit lanterns over to her bedside, pulling out her sketchbook and beginning to draw.

She lost herself in the scrape of graphite against paper, sketching a detailed image of a Quidditch trunk, the four game balls strapped down inside. It was calming, helping her to forget her hurt. But the silence dragged on, and she couldn't help the way her thoughts eventually drifted back onto the topic.

Was she overreacting? Being too harsh? She knew they hadn't _meant_ to hurt her – knew they would _never_ mean to hurt her – but they still had. Her insides twisted and she scowled down at her work, pressing the tip of the pencil harder into the paper, until it broke again with a soft snap.

Huffing, Winona reached into her bag for a sharpener, but before she could find it there was a loud crash from somewhere nearby, followed by a terrified scream. A feeling like ice water trickled down her spine, making her shiver, and without a second thought she was shoving her supplies back inside her bag, leaping from her bed and hurriedly yanking a pair of pants on over her bare legs before bolting out of the tent.

Spinning in a circle, Winona couldn't see the source of the commotion, but she could hear it. The atmosphere of the entire campsite was beginning to shift, becoming charged with a sort of frenzied panic. Winona slipped inside the boys' tent, making a beeline for Mr Weasley's cot. Without a moment of hesitation she gripped his shoulder and shook him hard.

He awoke with a loud snort, blinking up at her in bewilderment. "Winona?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.

"Something's wrong," she blurted. A sudden shriek echoed throughout the campsite, shrill and blood-curdling, punctuating her words.

Mr Weasley was up and out of bed without any further convincing, hurriedly pulling a pair of jeans on over his sleep pants and producing his wand, heading for the tent flaps.

"What's happening, Mr Weasley?" she called after him, strained with anxiety.

"Just wake everyone up," Mr Weasley ordered her quickly. Winona nodded obediently, one hand anxiously twisting at the strap of her ever-present bag. He stepped out into the night, and Winona didn't waste time in heading directly for the first beds she saw. It was the twins, and she breathed a sigh of relief, every trace of her previous anger evaporating in an instant.

"Fred, George," she called, rushing to Fred's side and grasping ahold of his shoulder, giving him a rough shove.

"Winnie?" he grumbled, peering up at her through hooded eyes. "What? You've come to yell at us some more?"

"Shut it," she snapped, keeping by his side but snapping out a foot to kick George where he lay on her left. "Get up, both of you. Now."

"Wha's gon' on?" muttered George sleepily, pulling up his head from where he'd been nuzzling into his pillow.

"I think the campsite's under attack," she told them in a hurry.

"What?" asked Fred, suddenly more awake. "From who?"

"I don't know," she hissed back. "I didn't see it coming," she added with a frustrated scowl at herself. "Wake the others, I've gotta go get the girls." The twins were sitting up now, eyes wide as they listened to the panicked commotion coming from outside. "Go!" she ordered them, turning and bolting back out into the fray. It was a mess, people shrieking with terror as they ran for their lives.

Winona turned in the direction they were running from, heart dropping into her gut as she spied the source of all the terror.

A large group of masked wizards were storming their way through the campsite. Four figures were hovering along above them, their bodies contorted grotesquely. Winona felt bile climb her throat but she swallowed it down, speeding up as she ducked into her own tent.

Much to her relief, Hermione was already awake, simultaneously rousing Ginny from her slumber and shoving her feet back into her trainers.

Ginny looked scared and Winona moved over to them, hurrying them up. "Winnie – what's going on?" asked Ginny, eyes wide with fear.

"We need to go," she said – because she didn't have the answers they needed. "Now," she prompted them, grasping them both and yanking them towards the tent flaps.

If it were possible, the commotion outside seemed to have grown in the thirty seconds she'd been inside the tent. Ginny and Hermione stared at the scene in shock, but there was no time to take it in. Winona was relieved to see Mr Weasley had returned, and all of the boys were standing outside their tent – those of age with wands held in tight grips.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr Weasley shouted to them over the chaos. "You lot – get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Then Charlie, Bill, Percy and Mr Weasley himself were all bolting in the direction of the attackers.

Fred didn't hesitate to grasp his sister's hand, yanking her in the direction of the woods. George moved in the same instant, grabbing Winona's hand tightly and pulling her after them. She clutched him back, struggling to hold on and dodge the frantic witches and wizards running around them like terrified, headless chickens.

They made it into the woods, but the twins didn't stop running, pulling the girls after them, deeper and deeper into the trees.

Winona realised with a sinking gut that, in the mayhem of it all, she and Harry had been separated. "Harry?!" she shouted into the forest, ripping her hand from George's and spinning in a circle, eyes wild with panic. Her pulse was beating in her ears, the thought that Harry might be hurt or lost, it was too much for her. She felt vaguely faint. "Harry!"

"Win!" called George, wrapping his arms around her middle, keeping her from storming heedlessly back into the fray. "It isn't safe!"

"That's why I need to find him, George!" she shouted back, trying to rip from his hold, desperate to double back and search for her cousin. "You know how much trouble he gets into – what if one of those lunatics finds him?"

A new set of hands grasped Winona by the shoulders, pressing down hard, acting as an anchor to reality. "Winnie," said Fred, forcefully calm. She stopped trying to pull away, turning to look up at him with wide eyes.

It was dark, she could barely see his face, bathed in shadow as it was. The clouds were thick, the moonlight blocked from reaching them, but before the darkness could begin to overwhelm her, George muttered a low, "_Lumos,_" and the tip of his wand lit up with silvery light.

Fred was staring down at her, concern on his face, and George had taken Ginny's hand, the youngest of them was staring up at them all in wide-eyed fear. "The best thing you can do for Harry is to stay calm, and stay safe," Fred told her slowly, and even in her panicked state she had to recognise the truth to his words.

"Yeah," she murmured in dazed agreement. It didn't feel real – like this were all some terrible dream and before she knew it she'd wake up to find everything perfectly safe. But she wasn't going to hold her breath. "Okay." She swallowed. "He's got Hermione with him, anyhow," she added, giving herself a reassuring nod.

"And Ron," Ginny reminded her.

Unable to help herself, Winona let out a skeptical snort, and it set the four of them off into quiet chuckles of cautious amusement. The laughter petered off into nothing, leaving them in a near-crushing silence that made her heartbeat sound even louder to her own ears.

"Come on," said Fred after a few, suffocating moments, one hand trailing down over Winona's shoulder, his fingers ghosting down her arm until they met hers. She didn't hesitate to grip it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. "Let's sit down," he said, voice quiet and gentle in a way he rarely was. Maybe he could sense it was what she needed. "We might be waiting here awhile."

He tightened his grip on her hand, his skin warm and calloused against hers, and took a seat on the thick trunk of a fallen tree. George and Ginny sat down beside them, all of them lit in the glow of George's wand.

Strictly speaking, he wasn't meant to do magic outside of school, but she was sure that, in light of the night's events, the Ministry would let this one slide.

They'd barely been sitting a full minute before there was a great explosion of colour above them, and through the trees they could spy the haunting image of the Dark Mark. It stood, green and eerie against the night sky, a giant skull with a snake weaving in and out of its toothy mouth.

Winona had to swallowed back another mouthful of bile, especially when she considered what this meant – or rather, _who_ this meant.

"What is it?" Ginny asked in a low voice that not even she could deny sounded scared. None of them answered, nobody knowing how. "Who were they?" she asked instead. "Why did they do this?"

"I dunno, Ginny," said Fred softly. That wasn't totally true – they didn't know exactly, but they could certainly hazard a guess. "Dad'll explain it all when we see him – I'm sure."

They sat in silence, Ginny still trembling from the adrenaline. Winona couldn't handle the quiet, couldn't handle not knowing where Harry was, couldn't handle just sitting there doing nothing but _hoping_ he was okay. With a huff she pushed herself off the log they were using as a bench, padding a few feet away and sinking down onto the dirt.

"What're you doing?" Ginny asked in sheer bewilderment.

"Using my inner eye for something more than just a way to make a quick buck," she muttered, the words scathing, and neither of the twins replied. It was probably for the best, she didn't want to fight with them – she was just so shaken from the attack that it was difficult to hold her tongue.

She adjusted the sketchbook in her lap, straightened her spine and closed her eyes.

"I don't get it – what's she–?"

"Shh, Ginny," whispered George. "Let her work."

Winona breathed deeply, rolling her neck and trying her very hardest to force herself into a vision. She tried everything – meditation, chanting – but it was hard to focus with the screams coming from the campsite, and nothing worked. The aether didn't seem to be in a particularly generous mood.

She didn't know how long they sat there in silence, but she knew that by the time she'd given up her toes were completely numb.

Exhaling, she reluctantly opened her eyes. The cries of despair had finally stopped, replaced with a haunting sort of silence that chilled Winona to the core. Like the battlefield after a war, silent by way of death.

"Nothing?" Fred ventured gently.

"Nothing," she confirmed grimly.

"Come on," said George, climbing to his feet and bringing a frightened Ginny with him. "Whatever it was, it seems to have passed. It should be safe to head back to the tents."

"But dad said to wait here until he came get us," Ginny argued nervously. She wasn't usually a stickler for the rules, but the attack had scared her more than she was willing to admit.

"We'll just meet him at the tent," Fred shook his head. "I don't wanna stay out here a minute longer than we have to. Besides, Win's not wearing any shoes," he said with a nod down at Winona's bare feet.

Ginny relented, and slowly they made their way back the way they'd come. The night was cold despite it still being summer, and Winona was beyond glad when the tents came into view. The campsite was nearly a ghost town, people few and far between, everybody having either apparated away or still off hiding from the danger.

"Ginny! Fred! George!" exclaimed Charlie, voice thick with relief as they came into sight. He swooped his sister up into a hug the moment she was inside the tent. "Thank Merlin you're okay!" he said, bringing the twins into a firm hug too before gently wrapping an arm around Winona's shoulders and pulling her in to a hug, squeezing her in a movement she found soothing and then letting go, giving her space.

Smiling up at Charlie gratefully, she shuffled further into the room, taking a seat on the couch beside Percy who was holding a rag to his bleeding nose. Bill sat at the small table, pressing a bed-sheet against a large gash in his arm, blood turning the white fabric a dark crimson.

"Where did you go?" asked Bill from where he sat, Ginny moving over and perching on the chair beside him. He wrapped his uninjured arm around her, giving her a comforting hug.

"Into the forest," replied George simply, pouring out three glasses of water and handing one out each to Fred and Winona, then keeping one for himself. "What was the fight like?"

"I've been in worse," Charlie told them with a great grin on his face, like he were remembering said fight fondly.

"What about the Mark?" asked Fred tightly.

"We don't know anything more than you," said Bill, still hugging Ginny, who seemed relieved to have him there. It made Winona wonder how much she missed Bill when he was gone. She'd barely known Harry was family for a few months, and already being away from him was difficult. Particularly on a night like this.

The tent flap was suddenly pushed aside. Winona didn't miss the way Charlie and Bill both reached for their wands, just to be safe.

Fortunately it was only Mr Weasley, and when Winona saw who followed him inside, she flew up from the couch, very nearly tripping over Fred's outstretched legs in her haste to reach her cousin.

"Did you get them, Dad? The person who conjured the Mark?" Bill was asking his dad intently, but Winona was barely listening.

"You okay?" she asked Harry, bringing him into a tight embrace. He squeezed her in return, and she rubbed her hand up and down his back soothingly, the feeling of relief in her veins not unlike what she thought heroin probably felt like. Harry was here. He was okay.

"I'm fine, Winnie," Harry told her, pulling gently out of her hug and offering her a smile that she didn't for a moment believe. "You?"

She didn't bother answering, waving away the question and guiding him back down to the couch. He took a seat beside her, Ron and Hermione propping up on his other side, and she pushed her glass of water into his hands, ordering him to drink. He complied with a distant nod, too distracted to argue.

"No," Mr Weasley had answered Bill tiredly. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" asked virtually everybody in the room, but none louder than Winona. She turned to stare at Harry with wide eyes.

"Harry's wand?" Fred echoed, as though to be certain.

"Mr Crouch's elf?" added Percy, thunderstruck.

With some assistance from the Golden Trio, Mr Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. As they told the tale, Winona balled the material of her shirt in her fist, her anxiety swelling. The knowledge of the precarious situation Harry had been in was enough to make her stomach swoop and her heart race.

He was fine, she reminded herself over and over again. Harry was _fine._

When they had all finally finished telling their story, Percy kind of puffed up, like he were about to say something particularly prat-like. And he certainly didn't disappoint.

"Well, Mr Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said proudly. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to … embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry … how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control-"

"She didn't do anything – she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who blinked in pure shock. Winona copied the sentiment. Hermione and Percy had always gotten along, better than she did with maybe all of the other Weasley's combined (excluding, perhaps, Ron). It was certainly a shock to see her snap at Percy like that, and Winona looked over at Fred and George, both of whom looked just as blindsided.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy, voice layered with condescension. Winona grit her teeth and told herself not to call him a particularly bad word in front of his own father.

"She didn't run amok!" exclaimed Hermione defiantly. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" interjected Ron impatiently, probably sensing the fight was going nowhere fast. "It wasn't hurting anyone. Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._"

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," added Mr Weasley, voice pensive and quiet. Winona could tell the sight of it had spooked him. "Of course people panicked. It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again," he murmured, the words and his eyes haunted.

"I don't get it," Ron frowned. "I mean, it's still only a shape in the sky."

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," Mr Weasley explained, patient but full of an old horror. The story wasn't a pleasant one to tell. "The terror it inspired … you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside." Mr. Weasley winced, and Winona copied the action. She couldn't empathise, but the thought of that happening to her… She wondered whether they'd cast the Dark Mark over her house, the night her mother had been killed. "Everyone's worst fear, the very worst…" he trailed off weakly, briefly lost in memories of old.

There was a silence that stretched on. Winona swallowed, taking her half-empty cup back from Harry and downing a mouthful of water, sighing in relief as it wet her sore, dry throat.

Then Bill spoke up, quiet and soft. "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" echoed Harry cluelessly. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," explained Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight – the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley in a dull attempt at reproach. "Though it probably was," he added, unable to deny it.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" exclaimed Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters —" Harry began. Everybody flinched, even Winona. She wasn't used to hearing the name said aloud. She didn't particularly mind it – the whole name thing was ridiculous, anyway – but there was still a part of her the could sense the evil that bled from the name, like it was transcribed into the syllables themselves. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?" he asked, a good question that unfortunately had a very simple answer.

"The point?" Mr. Weasley gave a haunted, hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished, tone dripping with the kind of hatred that Winona hadn't known somebody as kind as Mr Weasley could produce.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" asked Ron, a very good question indeed. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," countered Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives. I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?" he asked, a little bit dark.

"So … whoever conjured the Dark Mark …" began Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr Weasley briskly. "But I'll tell you this –– it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now."

The tent fell silent once again, but it wasn't comfortable. Winona felt like at any moment there would be another great bombardment; like the peace was nothing but the calm before a torrential storm.

"Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick," Mr. Weasley finally said, hoarse with exhaustion. "We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try to get an early Portkey out of here."

Everybody stood back to their feet, slowly and reluctantly heading for their beds. Ginny, Hermione and Winona hesitated. None of them particularly wanted to go back to their tent by themselves, but none wanted to be the first to say it. In the end it was Ginny who spoke up, stepping closer to her dad and looking up at him with tired, shiny eyes.

"Dad, I don't want to go back to the other tent..." was all she had to say. Mr Weasley was already nodding.

"Yes, of course, Ginny," he said, sounding like he very much agreed. He spun on his heel, counting the beds filling the tent. "Uh, we only have an extra two beds," he said apologetically.

Before Winona could so much as open her mouth to offer to take the lounge, Fred was there, looking at his dad seriously. "Winnie can have my bed. I'll sleep on the lounge."

"Are you sure, Fred?" asked Mr Weasley.

"Absolutely," he nodded, and Mr Weasley relented with a yawn.

"Okay," he agreed. "Sleep well, girls," he said, turning and wandering to a small bedroom off the back of the room where his bed lay.

Ginny and Hermione moved over to the beds on the opposite side of the room, while Winona hung back with Fred. "Thanks, Freddie," she said sincerely, and he only gave a small, equally sincere smile in return.

"Any time," he swore, and she turned, taking off her bag and slipping onto the mediocre camping mattress beside George, who had already passed out where he lay on top of all his covers.

Winnie crawled under her own covers, her feet thanking her for the insulation, and stared listlessly up at the ceiling.

She could still feel the adrenaline of the evening running through her veins. The same people that had been there tonight were the exact ones who had taken her mother from her as a child – whom had stolen her _life_ away from her – her very _name._ It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

And hour passed, the time dragging by at a snail's pace, but Winona still couldn't sleep. She didn't toss and turn; she just laid, staring up at the sloped ceiling and trying not to fall into a pit of all-consuming, uncontrollable despair.

It was just that everyone felt so far away, asleep and not present, not really _there_ with her. She felt isolated; felt completely alone.

That was her motivation behind climbing to her feet. She brought her thick blanket with her, wrapping it around her shoulders and wearing it like a cape. It dragged along the floor behind her as she wandered back through to the main room where Fred lay dozing fitfully on the lounge.

She felt a stab of guilt as she noted he had no blanket over him. He was curled in a ball, trying to preserve his own heat. Rolling her eyes at him fondly, she took a gentle seat on the edge of the couch, just beside his hip. Bringing her cold feet up and laying her back down, she lay at Fred's side.

Feeling the weight of somebody beside him, Fred flinched awake, blinking at her in surprise.

"I don't wanna be alone," she whispered to him, pulling the blanket so it lay over them both. She pressed her cold feet against his legs and burrowed into his side. He was firm and warm, and so familiar. She curled against him, that gaping hole in her chest finally disappearing, replaced by a fuzzy, affectionate warmth that made her sigh in content.

"Win?" Fred whispered, voice nearly silent through the dark as his arm came up to wrap around her. He held her close, careful and firm all at once, and she pressed a hand against his sternum, feeling his heart beating from within, a little faster than usual.

She didn't look up, kept her face pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, breathing in his familiar scent of fresh soil and fireworks. "Hm?" she hummed, vague and distracted, so focused on his warmth and the feeling of safety that had draped around her like a blanket.

He let out a breath she hadn't realised he'd been holding, bringing her in tight so his face was pressed to her hair. "Nothin'," he murmured, relaxing against her.

She smiled, nuzzling into him some more and finally allowing sleep overtake her.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone – Happy New Years! I hope you all had a wonderful night. I spent it with friends, then spent all of today sleeping it off. It's late at night on the 1st here, but I'm wide awake, so I thought I'd get this chapter up while I had the time. I hope you enjoyed!**


	31. And other such teenage rebellion

It felt like mere seconds went by before something kicked her in the leg and she woke up to a familiar snort-giggle that could only belong to one person.

"Fuck off, Ginny," Winona muttered, nuzzling back into Fred's warmth, feeling his chest rise and fall from beneath her head.

"Language," gasped George dramatically. Winona reluctantly opened her eyes to glare at the siblings, both of whom wore large, shit-eating grins at the sight of her and Fred pressed together. Fred groaned from beneath her, yawning as he too reluctantly prised open his eyes.

"Dad says you two need to stop snuggling so we can leave," said Ginny, impish as could be.

"Right, I'm sure that's exactly what he said," Winona muttered, loath to lose Fred's warmth but also keen as hell to get out of the campsite and back to the safety of the Burrow. She threw her feet over the edge of the couch, stretching her back until it popped, then reluctantly padded back over towards the doors.

She glanced back before slipping from the tent, catching the Cheshire grin on George's lips and the red flush to Fred's face before she ducked out into the early morning haze. It was frosty and still dark, and she hurried into the next tent, quickly changing into some jeans and one of her old knitted jumpers, then slipping her shoes onto her feet before getting her things together and being ready to leave all within five minutes.

Mr. Weasley took the tents down with magic this time, the excited spirit of it all having evaporated, along with their cheer.

Winona stuck by Harry's side as they walked quickly through the wreckage of the campsite towards the queue for Portkeys, where they were able to take an old rubber tyre back to the hill from the day before. The atmosphere was morose compared to then. Winona could sense that nobody felt up to any form of conversation, and she had to confess, she felt the same.

When the Burrow finally came into view, it was along with Mrs Weasley, who stood outside waiting for them, an absolute blubbering mess.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" she cried when her family and company finally came into sight. "Arthur — I've been so worried — _so worried_ —"

She clutched on tightly to her husband in hysterics, more than a little bit relieved to find them each alive and in one piece.

"You're all right," Mrs Weasley was muttering, letting go of her startled husband and staring at all of them with red rimmed eyes, "you're alive. Oh _boys_…"

Then she surged forwards towards the twins. Winona bristled, wondering if she was going to try and slap them or something – but instead she did something far more surprising. She gathered them into a hug so tight that their heads smashed against one another, and they let out grunts of discomfort as she held onto them with everything she had.

"_Ouch_! Mum — you're strangling us —" cried George, both attempting to wriggle free of her vice-like grip.

"I shouted at you before you left!" was all she said, the words coming out in short bursts of sobs. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred … George …"

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr Weasley said soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house.

Winona sat between Fred and Ginny as they all congregated around the table, beginning to pile eggs and toast onto their plates, all of them starving.

Mr Weasley was talking to Mrs Weasley about the attack at the Cup, and reading out an article written by some woman by the name of Rita Skeeter that nobody around the table seemed to be particularly fond of. Winona made a mental note to pay more attention to the news.

She was in the middle of debating the strengths and weaknesses of the Holyhead Harpies with Ginny when the call of her name caught her attention. "Winnie?" asked Harry, and immediately her eyes went to him, eyebrows raised in expectant question. He, Ron and Hermione were all standing by the door, apparently waiting for her to follow.

"I've been summoned," Winona winked at Ginny, who rolled her eyes and turned to engage Charlie in a conversation about the Cup.

She stood to her feet, pushing back her chair and hurrying out after the Golden Trio. She followed Ron's lead as he took them up to his room at the very top of the Burrow, the whole way feeling rather like she were in for something big.

"What's up, Harry?" asked Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them. Winona took a seat on one of the beds, the mattress pleasantly bouncy.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry began, taking a moment to look each of them in the eye. "Any of you…" he said, glancing meaningfully – and maybe a little remorsefully – at Winona. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again," he said it quickly, rather like ripping off a bandaid.

Winona groaned, falling backwards so her spine hit the mattress, the springs creaking under the assault. She stared up at the ceiling above her and scowled, having the awful, awful feeling that this year was going to be anything but easy.

"But – he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean – last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?" Ron was asking Harry hurriedly.

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," Harry assured him. "But I was dreaming about him…him and Peter – you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill…someone."

The way he said the last part was suspicious, but Winona knew better than to call him out on it. Harry was a smart kid, he knew what to keep to himself, and when. If she needed to know – if it was something he felt like he could tell her – then she'd know.

"It was only a dream," Ron sounded very much like he were trying to convince himself of the fact. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" countered Harry quickly. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, bathing them all in a pleasant, peachy sort of glow. "It's weird, isn't it? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't say his name!" Ron hissed at him, eyes flickering nervously around the room as though the Dark Lord himself was going to appear in a puff of smoke and eat them all alive.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"

Winona did, vividly. She remembered Harry coming to her, scared out of his mind about what Trelawney had told him.

Hermione gave something of a derisive snort at the mention of Trelawney, one that made Winona roll her eyes. Yes, Trelawney was mad as a hatter, but she didn't deserve the outright scorn that Hermione presented her with at every possible turn. "Oh Harry," sighed Hermione in exasperation, "you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," argued Harry, quite rightly, too. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance –– a real one, just like Winnie," he said, gesturing at his cousin, who had by now sat back up, watching on with a frown pinching at her brow. "And she said the Dark Lord would rise again … greater and more terrible than ever before … and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him … and that night Wormtail escaped."

Nobody seemed to know how to reply, Hermione and Ron both falling silent. Winona stared at Harry, taking in the earnestness in his emerald green eyes. "Why not tell me sooner?" she finally asked him, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"I didn't want to worry you," he said, soft and just a tiny bit meek. "I wrote Sirius though. Told him about the scar," he added, lifting a hand to brush against the scar that sat clear as day on his forehead.

"Has he replied?"

"I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron suddenly, holding a renewed sense of energy. "I bet your dad'll know what to do!" he told Winona, who tried very hard not to flinch at the casual exclamation of the 'd' word, and yet still failed.

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry, casting a forlorn glance out at the sky.

"But we don't know where Sirius is," Hermione reminded him logically. "He could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he? Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, still a little down. He looked over at Winona with a glint of hope to his eyes. "You haven't heard from him?" he asked her hopefully.

She shook her head. "You'd know if I had."

"And you haven't _Seen_ … anything?" Ron asked.

"Will you stop whispering the word like it's some kind of curse?" she huffed at him. The tips of his ears went red, properly chastised. "But no, I haven't Seen anything about this."

Ron sighed in defeat, like that had been the last possible answer to the dilemma, but Hermione's eyes were narrowed and calculating. Ron suddenly perked up, turning to Harry eagerly. "Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry," he said brightly. "Come on — three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play. … You can try out the Wronski Feint!"

"Ron," Hermione said, sounding vaguely scolding, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now. He's worried, and he's tired. We all need to go to bed."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," Harry interjected suddenly, and Hermione threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and left the room, presumably for bed. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt," Harry said, kneeling down by his trunk to fish out his broom.

"Four on four," Winona said, still reclined on the bed she assumed to be Harry's, since his trunk was at the end of it.

"What?" Ron asked, bewildered by the sudden words.

"I said, four on four," she repeated with a roll of her eyes. "Ginny and I'll play, too." Ron tipped his head back and groaned like she were the most annoying creature on the face of the earth. "Why can't we play?" she asked sharply, and Ron looked surprised by the sudden question. She struggled to taper her own amusement. "Are you saying girls aren't as strong as men? That we're not as good at Quidditch? Are you trying to tell me you're better than us, Ron, just because your reproductive organs are on the outside instead of the inside––"

She had at least three more minutes of material, but Harry swooped in to save the day, stepping between her and Ron before his best friend spontaneously combusted from sheer embarrassment. It didn't look like he was far off, judging by how red his face was turning.

"Ron, why don't you go get the others? We'll meet you downstairs," Harry said, and Ron hightailed it out of the room before Winona could talk any more about their 'reproductive organs'.

Harry turned back to her with an exasperation on his face that only tripled when met with Winona's large, satisfied grin.

"Do you have to torture him like that?" he asked in the voice of an overworked preschool teacher.

"It's just so _easy_," she laughed, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Besides, it's a laugh, innit?" she asked, and Harry chuckled even despite himself. Winona grinned victoriously. The smile dimmed, however, as she remembered the severity of what they'd been talking about only just before. "You sure you're okay, Boy-Wonder?" she asked, the mood become serious once more. "You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding his head quickly. "I would."

"And if your scar ever hurts like that again––"

"I'll tell you," he finished with another nod. "Promise."

She smiled back at him, relieved. "Good," she said, much more relaxed than before as she got to her feet, ruffling Harry's hair as she passed. "Come on," she told him jovially, heading for the door. "Let's go flatten some Weasleys at Quidditch."

Outside the sun had risen fully. Not a cloud was in sight and the sky above them was a deep, endless sea of blue, the sun pleasantly warm against their skin.

The rest of the Weasley kids – sans Percy – were all already outside, milling around in the orchard and holding various types of battered old broomsticks in their hands.

The twins were a few paces away from everybody else, hidden halfway behind a tree. Curious, Winona left Harry to begin the debate about teams as she wandered over to the twins. As she grew closer she caught the tail end of their whispered conversation.

"We have to tell her, Fred."

"No – after everything that happened at the Cup? We can't."

"Since when do we keep secrets?"

"Since now. Since _this._"

"I really don't think––"

"What're we talking about?" Winona asked innocently, and both of them practically jumped out of their own skins at her sudden appearance. Letting out very un-manly yelps, they spun around, eyes wild with surprise. "What're we keeping from whom?" she continued, staring at them calmly even as her mind whirred with possibilities.

Had she forgotten some piece of information that she was meant to be keeping secret? Why were the twins so jumpy all of a sudden? And what did they mean what happened at the Cup?

"Nothing," said Fred quickly, but immediately he could tell that Winona was far from convinced. "It's just…girl troubles," he continued, and her expression shifted into one of confusion. "I'm thinking about asking Angelina to be my girlfriend," he blurted. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Seriously?" she asked, brow furrowed as she struggled to understand. George was now glaring at his twin like he'd murdered his pet cat – or something equally horrendous.

"Yeah," muttered Fred, reaching up to scratch at his flaming red hair. "You – you haven't had any visions about what she might say, by any chance?" he asked, voice wavering over the words.

"No, but I'll keep my inner eye out," she told him, still frowning from the unexpected confession. Fred was wincing, like he smelt something really bad, and Winona couldn't help but get the feeling she wasn't being told the whole story, however just as she opened her mouth to press for more, Charlie's voice cut across the small clearing in the orchard.

"Come on, Winnie!" he called with the beginnings of a competitive grin on his face. "I drew the short straw – so I guess that means you're on my team."

"Short straw?" she countered sharply, tossing one of the Weasleys' battered old Shooting Stars over her shoulder and turning away from the twins, a dangerous glint to her eyes. "That's the best bloody straw you ever drew in your life, Charles!"

She didn't see George slap Fred upside the head, hissing his irritation with his twin's stupid, cowardly decision of avoidance, rather than honesty.

The days passed by quickly, and Winona couldn't have been more relieved that Harry was there with them. If he'd had to go back to his horrible relative's place after the whole debacle at the Cup, she would have surely made herself sick with worry.

She spent a lot of her time helping the twins recreate their order forms – in secret, of course, because if Mrs Weasley knew what they were doing they would have to start from scratch all over again, which was the last thing any of them needed.

Speaking of the Weasley matriarch, she'd gone into Diagon Alley in their place, purchasing all the necessities for the coming school year. Winona was surprised, however, when she found a lumpy parcel on the end of her bed that looked more like some kind of sweater than it did any school supplies.

Unwrapping it, she pulled free a handful of silky, glittering fabric that slid across her skin like water. Holding it up, her eyes went wide as she realised it was a dress.

"Uh, 'Mione?" she said slowly, and Hermione looked up from where she was eagerly poring through her new Ancient Runes textbook. "Why'd Mrs Weasley buy me a dress?" she asked, and Hermione looked up, brow furrowed as she took in the shimmering fabric of the fancy frock.

"Well, on our supply list this year it said we need dress robes," she explained, eyes flickering over the entirety of the floor-length gown.

"Why?" Winona asked, a perfectly reasonable question.

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "Maybe we're having some kind of dance, or a celebration?" she suggested, not seeming particularly bothered by the mystery as she turned back to her book with laser-like focus.

"A dance?" echoed Ginny curiously, looking up from where she was haphazardly tossing odd pairs of socks into the depths of her trunk. "Why in Merlin's name would they put on a _dance_?"

"Beats me," muttered Winona flatly.

"D'you suppose that means we'll need...dates?" she asked, whispering the word like it tasted bad on her tongue.

Winona's mind flew to Jeremiah, and she swallowed thickly, thinking suddenly of how utterly impossible it would be, getting him to agree to be her date to _anything,_ let alone a dance the whole school would be attending. "This year's going to blow," she sneered, eyeing the dress with a renewed contempt.

"You're telling me," agreed Ginny with a sigh.

The morning of September the first came, and Winona was torn between feeling excited to go back to Hogwarts and sad to be leaving the Burrow. It was bittersweet, but the twins cheered her up by telling her about the freedom they would finally have to make order forms whenever they wanted.

Bill and Charlie were going to come see them off at the station, but Percy told them he couldn't, apologising profusely, like he expected them all to break out into sobs at his absence. "I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them all importantly. "Mr Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" George began seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."

Winona laughed so hard that she choked on the juice she was drinking, and Harry thumped her firmly on the back in concern.

They ordered three Muggle taxis to take them into King's Cross. "Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs Weasley whispered to Harry and Winona, who stood in the doorway, watching the taxi drivers gather the many heavy trunks into their cabs. "But there weren't any to spare. Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?" she muttered, a little anxious, making Winona wondered how much time she'd spent around Muggles in general.

"What d'you think'll happen if I set off a dungbomb in the back of the car?" Fred whispered to Winona conspiratorially as Mrs Weasley wandered over to check Ginny had all her things together.

"At least wait until we've gotten out of the car first," she begged him. The wicked grin she got in reply made her sigh. Then, as though cosmically-orchestrated, Fred's school trunk sprang open and his stash of Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks exploded in the poor cabbie's face. Winona snorted again, turning away to hide her amusement at the screech the Muggle gave in reply.

"Okay," Mrs Weasley began bracingly. "Ron, Harry and Hermione, you all take this cab here. Fred, George and Winona, you're in this one, and then Bill, Charlie and Ginny, you're in this last one with me," she told them, and they all hurried through the light rain into their designated taxis.

Stuck between Fred and George in the backseat, Winona clutched her art supply bag on her lap, reaching up to push away her damp hair.

"You lot excited to be heading back to school, then?" the cabbie asked about five minutes of awkward silence and bad talkback radio into their journey.

"Yeah," Winona replied, smiling at him politely in the rearview mirror.

"Not looking forward to seeing Snape's greasy old mug though, I'll tell you that," said George blithely.

"Remember that time we turned his hair pink?" Fred asked eagerly. "Wasn't that a laugh?"

"Yeah, but only because he gave us a Troll in that Potions final," George countered. Winona rolled her eyes, sinking back down in her seat so the brothers could giggle about their triumphs over the top of her head.

"Thinking about more devious forms of torture this year. Ever heard of a Hair-Loss Hex?"

"I like the sound of it already!"

"I read about it in that book Win got me for our birthday – the incantation's simple, really––"

"_Boys_," Winona said sharply, catching sight of the cabbie's bewildered eyes in the rearview mirror. "Muggle," she reminded them with a nod at the driver.

There was a beat of awkward silence. "What school did you three go to, again?" asked the driver carefully.

They managed to weasel their way out of answering by George pretending to suddenly lose the use of his legs, and by that point the cabbie was so bewildered he'd elected to just stop talking to them altogether.

It was almost sleeting as all three cabs pulled up outside of King's Cross station. Winona sighed as she slipped out after Fred, narrowing her eyes against the heavy rain. They all got soaked, standing in the rain and pulling out their trunks one by one. Finally they could all go inside the shelter of the station, but by then they were all already drenched. Winona's hair and clothes stuck to her face, and she pulled her sopping old sweater away from her body with a grimace.

They made it through the barrier and to the platform quickly, with plenty of time to spare. The twins led the way, finding a compartment somewhere near the back of the train and stowing away their things before moving back out onto the steam-shrouded platform to say goodbye to their mum and brothers.

Winona moved to Bill first, reaching out to shake his hand while the twins got a stern reminder from their mum to focus on their studies. "I gotta say, Bill, you certainly lived up to the hype," she told the eldest Weasley brother with a teasing grin.

"There was hype?" he asked, large hand shaking hers back.

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "You're something of a living legend with these guys," she told him, jerking her head towards the twins, who were now insisting they would _never_ sneak into the Forbidden Forest – or, okay, well, not _again._

"Gotta ask," said Bill suddenly, and she turned her attention back to him curiously. He was tall like the twins, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "That vision you had, of my wedding…"

"Can't give you an exact date," Winona told him before he could finish the question. "Why? You're really that eager to get hitched?" she added teasingly.

Bill gave a smile. "For the girl in the picture? Yeah, I guess I am," he replied, simple and easy, and she couldn't argue with that. She reached up, playfully tapping her index finger against her nose before turning just as Charlie swept her up into a hug.

"Look at you, Squirt," he said jovially, swaying to and fro in a playful movement. "A sixth year already," he put her down, reaching up to pretend to mop at his eyes. "I remember when you were a mere eleven year old, all paint-stained skin and messy blonde hair. Everyone thought you were batshit crazy, even then."

"And look at me now," she said proudly. "I proved them right."

Charlie laughed. "You sure did."

"I s'pose it'll be another three years until I see you again, will it?"

"Actually, I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," he said, grinning smugly as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

Fred perked up beside her with interest. "Why?" he asked keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie mysteriously. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it … it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all," he added in a spot-on impersonation of his younger brother that would have made Winona laugh had the words not been so puzzling.

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," added Bill longingly.

"Why?" pressed George impatiently. If there was one thing the twins hated, it was not knowing something, particularly something everybody else knew but them.

"You're going to have an interesting year," was all Bill said in reply, his blue eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it…"

"A bit of what?" said Ron suspiciously.

Then the whistle of the Hogwarts Express blew, loud and piercing across the platform, and Mrs Weasley quickly ushered them all back onto the train before it could leave without them. Winona took a quick second to pull her best friends' mother into a tight hug.

"Have a good year, Winnie, dear," she said, rubbing her warmly on the back before Winona pulled away and climbed onto the train beside the twins.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said quickly.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs Weasley," added Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," Mrs Weasley waved their thanks away with ease. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but … well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with … one thing and another," she said, rather annoyingly enigmatic.

"Mum!" groaned Ron in irritation. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs Weasley, smiling with a knowing glint to her eyes. "It's going to be very exciting — mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules —"

"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Winona, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you," she told them dismissively. "Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" she pressed when they didn't answer, growing anxious at their silence.

But the train began to move before she could prise an answer from them. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs Weasley only smiled and waved, and then they were gone, leaving them all staring out of the window at nothing.

"Come on," muttered the twins, already turning to head back to their compartment. "We wanna find Lee to talk about the Cup."

Winona paused beside Harry. "I'll see you at the feast?" she checked, and he nodded. "Oh, and tell me straight away if you hear from…" she trailed off, a sizeable array of possible things to call him coming to mind. "From Padfoot," she finally went with, voice low so nobody would overhear and get suspicious.

"Yeah, I will," he promised, and she tossed him a smile before hurrying off after the twins.

As they slipped inside the compartment with all their friends, Angelina stood to tug Fred into a quick snog that made Alicia, George and Lee let out loud boo's, and Katie throw a handful of Every Flavour Beans at them playfully.

Winona rolled her eyes, stubbornly ignoring the sourness in her gut, and slipped past them, collapsing down in the space between Katie and Alicia, then leaning between the seats to slap her hand against Lee's in greeting. "What's the go?" she asked, stealing a handful of Beans from Katie's box and assessing the colour of each before plopping them into her mouth.

"Anyone know why dress robes were on the school list this year?" Alicia asked first up, shifting aside to make room for Fred and Angelina, who were now holding hands as they sat down. Winona couldn't help but think she could see a glimmer of unease to Fred's eyes, but she couldn't say for sure and ignored it, turning back to the conversation with ease.

"I'm hoping there'll be some kind of party," said Katie eagerly.

"Every night's a party with me, baby," said Lee with a suggestive leer, and Winona tossed an Every Flavour Bean at his face, hitting him between the eyes.

"How is it possible for you to get creepier with every passing year?" Angelina wondered dryly.

"I age like a fine wine, babydoll," he quipped back, and the girls dissolved into laughter.

"Are nicknames your new gimmick for the year?" asked George from where he sat on Alicia's left, opposite his twin.

"Yeah. Thoughts?"

"I don't like it," said Katie bluntly. "Ange is right, it's creepy."

"Winnie does it all the time!" he argued indignantly. "How come it's not creepy on her?"

Winona looked up in surprise. "I make everything look cute," she told him easily.

The others all laughed, and Lee grumbled petulantly under his breath but otherwise didn't bother debating the point. He held out a Sugar Quill for her to take a few moments later, and she knew he was fine.

The sorting went by as usual, with the twins' usual jeers at the newly sorted Slytherins. She didn't bother reprimanding them, having given up on that particular battle long ago.

Dumbledore proclaimed the feast to start, and food appeared on the plates before them. Winona gladly helped herself to some pork and apple sauce, then spooned a healthy amount of green beans onto her plate, poured herself a pumpkin juice and began to eat.

"Who d'you reckon this year's Defence teacher will be?" asked Fred over dinner from where he sat opposite Winona, between Angelina and George. "I don't see anyone new up at the staff's table."

"I hope it's someone good," said Lee brightly before shovelling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"No one could possibly beat Lupin, though," Winona added, gaining a series of emphatic agreements in response.

Angelina began a conversation about the Herbology homework they'd had over the holidays, but Winona tuned her out. She felt the weight of eyes on her head, so looked up from her plate and directly across the hall to see Jeremiah sitting between his brother and Malfoy. He was already staring at her, and his lips twitched up into a smirk once he saw her looking.

Heart racing from within her chest, Winona suddenly found it hard to breathe. She couldn't seem to force her mouth to smile back, just stared at him like a complete and utter dolt. She'd missed him. Being with Harry and the twins and the rest of the Weasley brood had been a lovely distraction, but she realised now, meeting his eyes across a hall full of oblivious students, that she _missed_ him more than she'd ever missed Adam while they'd been together – and she and Jeremiah weren't even _together_. Not officially, anyway.

"What're you staring at?" Lee asked, loud and obnoxious, cutting through the haze that had invaded her brain.

"Nothing," she answered as casually as she could, breaking her stare with the oldest Nott brother and returning her attention to her food. George began telling them a joke he'd heard over the summer, and thankfully the focus shifted off of her.

About an hour later, once the last morsels of dessert had vanished from their plates, Dumbledore stood to his feet and the whole Hall fell respectfully silent.

"So!" said the Headmaster, hands held out wide, a cheerful smile on his lined, weathered face. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

Winona severely doubted anyone but the twins was planning on checking it, and even then it was only for research, so they knew exactly which rules they were breaking.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Across from her, the twins were gaping up at the Headmaster in pure horror, as though he'd just told them he was going to murder their family owl.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy," Dumbledore began to explain, ignoring the abject horror from the sea of glaring students, "but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"

But at that moment there was a deafening crack of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall burst open. An older wizard limped through, face horrendously scarred, chunks of skin missing from his cheeks and nose. Winona's eyes were wide, staring at the stranger in shock. The enchanted ceiling above them crackled with lightning and rumbled with angry thunder. She looked over at the twins, both of whom were staring at the man cautiously.

The man climbed up beside Dumbledore, shaking his hand and murmuring with him in low tones none of the students could hear. Then he moved back towards the staff table, spearing a sausage with a pocketknife and chewing on it violently.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore addressed the students once more, his voice bright and happy. "Professor Moody."

Winona turned to look at the twins. "Mad-Eye Moody?" she asked them in a hiss.

"Wicked," they murmured back as one, already thrilled about their newly appointed Defence Professor. Winona felt cautious, the guy was creepy and threatening – but at the same time, he was an experienced Auror. She supposed you didn't go through that and come out the other end without at least a few lasting scars – physical or otherwise.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, forcing their attention from the new Professor and back to him, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century," he said, and the anticipation in the Hall was palpable. "It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

The Hall was completely and utterly silent. Fred abruptly cried, "you're JOKING!" at the top of his lungs, and then the tension in the sea of students broke, most of them laughing at the Weasley twins' usual tact.

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," the Headmaster chuckled, smiling widely across the room at their table, "although now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar––"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time," conceded Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament … well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Winona frowned, feeling something prickle at the edge of her subconscious, like there was something important she was forgetting – or perhaps was _going_ to forget; the difference between the present and the future tended to get a little blurry when one happened to be a Seer.

The Triwizard Tournament wasn't something she'd ever heard of before. This wasn't altogether surprising – she'd grown up as a Muggle, after all. Hearing about it now, learning about its gruesome history, she wondered how good of an idea it was to bring it back. Her earlier thoughts about the state of the coming school year floated into her mind, and she felt the urge to bang her face against the tabletop in sheer frustration.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" hissed Fred the second Dumbledore had finished his sentence, a fierce determination glinting in his cornflower-blue eyes. Winona frowned, the idea of either of the twins competing made her stomach feel hollow. The last thing she wanted was either of them risking their lives for five minutes of fame and some prize money – besides, didn't they have enough Galleons after their gambling scheme at the Quidditch World Cup?

She was more than relieved when Dumbledore continued on speaking.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

Immediately the twins became furious, anger and chagrin on their identical faces as they cried out their discontent.

Dumbledore was unfazed, merely holding up a hand to silence his furious, underage pupils.

"This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces.

"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

With that everybody was standing and flowing like a school of fish towards the doors leading back out into the Entrance Hall. Winona stood too, but quickly noticed none of her friends had moved, all of them hovering where they stood, the twins glaring at Dumbledore like he'd personally offended them.

"They can't do that!" said George angrily. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," Fred told them stubbornly, also scowling at the staff table. Winona could practically hear the cogs turning over in his mind. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally," he said eagerly. "And a _thousand Galleons_ prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."

"Come on," ordered Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

"Once we're chosen, I bet Dumbledore won't be able to stop us," Fred said to his twin and best friend quickly, his voice laced with confidence. "All we need to do is convince this judge, and then we're golden."

"You say it like it'll be so easy," Winona rolled her eyes.

"Who says it won't?"

"You're right," she said with yet another eye roll, "I forgot who I was talking to."

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry asked the group conversationally as they all wound their way back up through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno," Fred replied, still utterly confident, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," argued Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" Fred countered shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" Hermione said, voice thick with worry.

"Never thought I'd say this, but I'm with Hermione on this one, boys," Winona said, and Fred and George suddenly looked at her with betrayal that made her huff. "I doubt you're going to be de-gnoming a garden or winning an Exploding Snap tournament. This is real, serious danger. 'Mione's right – people have _died_."

"Yeah," Fred countered airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" he asked, that devious glint still shining in his eyes. Winona decided to quit while she was ahead. The twins were the kings of stubbornness. They'd sooner admit to wanting to snog Snape than concede that she was right about this. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?" Fred asked his brother cheerily.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older. Dunno if we've learned enough…"

"I definitely haven't," Neville's voice said suddenly, sullen and gloomy from behind them. Winona turned to look at him, and he was staring at the floor, Eeyore-ish. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to — oops."

He tripped through the trick step, and Harry and Ron had to haul him back out of it by the armpits. He muttered his thanks with red cheeks, and Winona offered him a smile that only made his face darken.

"If one of us does get chosen, we'd win, right?" Fred asked her as they finished climbing the stairs towards the portrait hole. The Fat Lady asked for the password and George gave it, letting them all clamour inside before him.

"I dunno," she replied helplessly, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as she slowly wound her way through the dozens of armchairs and tables towards the fire, where Angelina, Lee and Katie were all sitting, eagerly discussing the Tournament.

"You don't know?" repeated Fred, disappointment dripping from his pores.

"I'm not a Magic 8-Ball, Fred," she told him tiredly.

"A what?"

"Never mind," she sighed, waving a lazy goodnight to Harry as he headed towards his dormitory for bed.

"You'll be seventeen in October, Ange," Katie was saying.

"Yeah, I'll definitely enter," Angelina replied. "I mean, what've I got to lose?"

Winona was tired. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was curl up in bed with her sketchbook and draw while she listened to the hum of the storm raging outside. Before she could so much as open her mouth to bid the others goodnight, a tiny second year appeared in her vision, eyeing the twins beside her nervously. The younger students usually did – they'd heard the horror stories, they knew to be careful around the pair of human fireworks.

"Winona Andrews?" asked the little girl carefully.

"Yeah?"

She held out a small, folded piece of parchment. Winona took it and murmured a soft thank you, watching as she scurried away. She unfolded it, holding it close to her face so nobody else could read what it said.

_Meet me tonight. Your bench._

Heart stuttering from within her chest, Winona swallowed thickly, staring down at the perfectly calligraphed letters that formed the words.

"Who's that from?" asked Lee, loud and obnoxious. "A secret admirer?"

Looking up in annoyance, Winona narrowed her eyes. "Maybe it is," she replied simply, stuffing the note into her pocket and climbing to her feet. Her group of friends let out playful 'oohs' that she ignored. "I'll see you later," she told them, already moving towards the dorms.

They called out varied forms of goodnights, and then once their attention was back on each other, Winona quickly slipped up the boys' staircase rather than her own. The door to the fourth year's dormitory was slightly ajar, and she made sure to pause and knock on the frame before entering.

"Harry, it's Winnie," she called through the gap. "Got a moment?"

There was some muffled sounds from within, and then Harry's head was poking through the doorway, eyes already heavy with sleep. "Everything okay?" he asked, adjusting his holey old sleep shirt.

"Can I have a favour?"

His brow furrowed. "Yeah?" he answered cautiously.

"I'm not going to ask for your first born, Harry," she told him with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "I just wanna borrow your cloak," she said, not having to specify which one.

His sleepy eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"General mayhem and other such teenage rebellion."

"It's the first night back at school."

She gave a theatrical grimace. "You're starting to sound like Hermione."

Rolling his eyes in response, he turned and disappeared back inside his dorm. She waited a few moments, and then he returned clutching his father's (her uncle's) precious invisibility cloak in his hands. The fabric was slivery and smooth; it was almost like liquid against her skin.

"Try not to get it confiscated," he said around a yawn.

"O ye, of little faith," she replied, and he batted her away, disappearing back inside his dorm, this time shutting the door after himself. "Love you too!" she called through the wood. She got no response, but she had a feeling he was smiling.

She checked she was alone in the corridor before covering herself in the cloak and turning back to the stairs.

In the time she'd been talking to Harry, the common room had emptied quite a lot. There were a few small groups along the edges of the room, but otherwise it was bare and still. Almost all her friends had gone up to bed as well, only Fred and George remaining.

They were seated on the couch, facing one another and talking in low tones. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, and was fully prepared to walk directly past them and out the portrait hole without stopping, but then she heard her name and her feet froze of their own accord.

"…Winnie could help, Fred," George was whispering to his twin. "She'll know what to do."

"I told you, we're not telling her," Fred argued back, casting a look back at the stairs to the girls' dorm as though worried the girl in question might be standing there, listening in. In reality, he hadn't the faintest idea how close to the truth he was. "She doesn't need the extra baggage––"

"It isn't baggage," George hissed in reply. "She'd our best friend. We've already told Lee, so we might as well––"

"She's angry enough about the bet as it is," Fred argued. "If she found out––"

"You're being an idiot."

"Whatever," Fred huffed, standing sharply to his feet. "I'm going to bed."

He turned and marched away, disappearing up the staircase to the left and vanishing from sight. George sighed tiredly from the couch and stood as well, stretching his arms over his head before following his twin up the stairs to their dorm.

Winona remained frozen where she was, feeling vaguely as though somebody had filled her veins with concrete.

The twins were keeping something from her; apparently something rather big that they'd already shared with Lee – but not her. Pain sliced at her insides, and suddenly the guilt about sneaking out of the Tower abated, replaced by indignation. If they could lie and keep secrets, then she bloody well could too, and she didn't have to feel ashamed about it.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Winona strode through the portrait hole and made a beeline for the courtyard near where the bench Jeremiah had been talking about sat. They'd met there several times the year before, and she felt her heart hammering away in her chest as she approached it. What would happen? How far would they go? Will something have changed between them over the summer?

A corridor away from the bench Winona shed Harry's cloak and folded it over her arm, walking the rest of the distance visibly.

Jeremiah was reclined back on the bench, head resting against the wall and his hands folded over his stomach. He seemed perfectly at ease, and as she grew closer he opened his eyes, eyeing her through the darkness with a smirk.

"Well, if it isn't the Little Lion," he drawled, voice raised just a little to be heard over the thunderstorm that was raging just outside.

"Hello, Snake," she replied dumbly, the sound thready and weak. His smirk widened and he sat up properly before standing to his feet and approaching her. "How was your summer?" she asked him slowly, feeling awkward, what was the protocol for the situation? Was she just meant to jump him? Was he here to break things off, rather than continue their secret rendezvous?

"You know what's great about this storm?" he asked as he grew closer, and the low drag of his husky voice made her shudder.

"What?" she asked, breathless as he reached out to grasp her hand, smoothly yanking her into an abandoned classroom off the main hall.

He grinned, the expression reminding her keenly of a shark. "We don't have to be quiet," he said deviously, and the door shut after her, leaving them sealed in the room and alone for the first time of many that semester.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, first off I wanted to say sorry for the wait. I don't have a strict schedule that I keep my updates to, but I usually like to make it at least once a week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter – there's plenty more to come. And for those of you completely abhorring the Jeremiah scenes; it's okay, I agree, and I promise it'll be over soon.**

**Also, as a quick side note; thank you so much for your best wishes over the fires currently ravaging my country. Thankfully I'm not in an area that's had to evacuate, but even where it's safe we can still see and smell the smoke. Our firefighters are doing all they can, but even still, people and animals are dying, and could use all the help they could get. If you can even spare just a few dollars to one of the amazing charities supporting those effected by the bushfires. **

**Have a research yourself to see the cause you would most like to donate to, but personally I'm passionate about the _Australian Red Cross Disaster Recovery and Relief. _Of course, you don't have to donate anything if you can't afford it/even if you just don't want to. You're all still amazing either way, and your thoughts and prayers are enough.**

**The chapter's spotlight review is for srosegarden – thank you so much for reviewing. Hearing that you've been here since the beginning made me smile so wide, and your kind words fuelled my passion for this story. I hope you enjoyed.**


	32. They're young and randy

Winona didn't sleep that night – half because most of it was spent with Jeremiah, but once she got back to her dorm she was just emotionally pent-up and physically sore from the Slytherin's vigorous enthusiasm.

She spent the night drawing, sketching up an old hag hovering over a bubbling cauldron, then adding colour to it just for something to pass the time. She left for breakfast early, only just as the girls were beginning to wake up. She donned jeans and a sweater, then tugged on her school robes and meandered down to the Great Hall.

She was full of contradicting emotions, full of a biting turmoil that she struggled to get ahold of. The twins weren't telling her something – that much was obvious. But on the other hand, she wasn't telling them something too, so she didn't exactly have the higher ground.

As she sat alone at the Gryffindor table, far before anybody else had drifted down from their common rooms, Winona contemplated the dilemma she was faced with. She didn't want to be angry at the twins, but the hurt was still there, simmering beneath her skin. She knew she couldn't just ignore them for no reason – and she didn't want to; it would only make her miserable. As the food appeared and she piled her plate high with bacon, she came to a decision.

The twins must have had a good reason for not telling her. They were her best friends, and she was theirs. They would tell her in time, she had to believe that.

In the meantime she'd try and act like she knew nothing, because what better way to get over her hurt than stuffing it into the deep, dark recesses of her mind to let it rot and fester forever? That was how she usually dealt with things, and she was still kicking, wasn't she?

People began to wander into the Hall, and soon it was full of students and a loose buzz of chatter. McGonagall came over and handed Winona her schedule, then after a moment of thought gave her Fred and George's as well, telling her to give it to them when she saw them.

Winona chewed on a particularly crispy strip of bacon as she scanned all three schedules, checking them against one another. They had everything together except for her Arithmancy class, during which Fred had Divination and George took Muggle Studies.

They joined her eventually, robes draped around them haphazardly. They and Lee were already talking about the Triwizard Tournament as they sat down, tossing about different suggestions and theories about how to hoodwink the supposed 'impartial judge'.

"I mean, an Aging Potion will do the trick, surely," Lee said emphatically as they all sat down opposite her. Winona handed off the twins' schedules to them both, and they scanned them halfheartedly.

"What if the way they check is by looking at our records and seeing our date of birth?" mused George.

"Easy," piped Fred. "We fake the records."

"How exactly are you planning to fake the Ministry's records?" asked Winona dryly. She had the utmost faith in the twins, but there were just some things that she doubted even they could achieve. Breaking into the Ministry and altering the records of their birth was one of those things.

The twins shot her identical sour expressions that she ignored, turning back to her food.

They had double Transfiguration first, in which McGonagall spoke mostly about their course load for the year. Winona sat beside George and behind Fred and Angelina. She caught sight of the budding couple holding hands under their desk, and couldn't help but roll her eyes.

They all decided to go out to the lake for lunch, since the storm from the night before had cleared up. Angelina and Fred held hands all the way down to the water's edge.

Winona was reminded of something Fred had told her over the summer – that he was going to officially ask Angelina to be his girlfriend. The very thought made a pit appear low in her stomach. She wanted them to be happy, but something deep inside of her was telling her it was a bad idea, that Fred was maybe pushing something that wasn't really there.

She could see it in the crease between his eyes, in the hollow glint to his gaze that told her something just wasn't right. And it wasn't Angelina's fault, she was beautiful and amazing and perfect, but something just wasn't _clicking._ Winona didn't know why Fred was pushing it, but she was hardly the right person to be doling out relationship advice.

The only experience she had was a bit of compulsory snogging with Adam and the passionate trysts in empty classrooms with a Slytherin that always left her feeling like she was in desperate need of a shower.

Despite this, she wanted to say something, wanted to sit down with her best friend and ask what he was doing; whether he was okay. But she knew _both_ of them well enough to know that anything she said would likely only be seen as insulting, so decided to give up before she'd even bothered to try.

They had double Defence in the afternoon, one of the first classes anyone had with Moody. Winona wasn't sure what to expect. She'd heard stories from the twins and Mr Weasley, and rumours whispered throughout the school, but other than that she knew very little about the grumpy, enigmatic Professor.

They all settled into the Defence classroom, Winona taking a seat near the back. She noticed Fred automatically move to sit beside her and was already shifting her bag out of the way when Angelina swiped his hand and persistently tugged him to an open desk to her left. The look on his face was dismayed, but he didn't argue, going with her willingly.

Winona rolled her eyes again as George took the spot beside her.

"It's sickening, don't you think?" she asked through a grimace. George certainly didn't need her to elaborate on what she was talking about. "All they did was snog a few times last year, but now all of a sudden they're attached at the hip?"

George reclined in his chair, already focused on folding a spare scrap of parchment into a sloppy little hat that he proudly put atop his head. "I think they're young and randy," he replied smoothly.

"We're all the same age," she reminded him.

"Never said _I _wasn't randy, too."

"Ugh," she gagged. "More than I ever want to know, George."

"Fair enough."

"_Constant vigilance_!"

The words were screamed so suddenly that everyone in the whole room jumped about a foot in the air, most letting out yelps of shock.

Moody was at the back of the room, his scarred, grotesque face either scowling or smiling – it was genuinely impossible to tell the difference – and once he was sure he had their attention, he began to stalk up the aisle, wooden leg clacking loudly against the floor.

"To survive in this world, one must have _constant vigilance_," he began in a rough Scottish accent. "The Dark Arts are a thing of majesty and malice, the likes of which none of you are likely to ever understand. It is _my_ job, however, to make sure you're prepared."

He came to a stop at the front of the classroom, turning to face them, his magical eye flickering over each and every face in the class. Winona felt a shiver run down her spine as it passed over her.

"You're sixth years now. NEWT students. Do you know what that means?"

Nobody in the room so much as dared to move an inch. The entire class was frozen, staring at him in varying degrees of awe and trepidation.

"It means that the training wheels have come _off_. It's time for you to learn what you're up against. Learn the truth about the world you live in. That's where I come in."

He turned to the board, producing a small stick of broken chalk and writing something down in sharp, harsh lettering.

It read _Unforgivable Curses._ Winona felt another chill run down the length of her spine.

"The Unforgivable Curses," he read, turning back to them, twisted little scar of a mouth pulled down into a sneer. "How many are there?" Nobody dared raise their hand. "Surely somebody knows," their new teacher snarled, looking very much like if nobody answered him, he might very well perform the curses on them one by one, just to give them a taste.

A hand raised, and Winona was surprised to see it was Jeremiah. Moody turned both his eyes onto him, but Jeremiah didn't look scared under the weight of them.

"Nott, was it?" asked Moody thinly.

"There are three Unforgivables, Sir," Jeremiah said, clear and confident.

"Can you name one for me?"

Jeremiah didn't need to stop and think. "The Imperius Curse," he relayed with ease.

Winona thought a smile might have flickered at Moody's lips – but again, it could have just as well been a grimace. "The Imperious Curse is the ability to control one's desired target."

"Control?" asked a Ravenclaw boy from the back of the room, quill already poised to take notes.

"Complete and total control," Moody confirmed, and though the words were probably meant to be said grimly, Winona instead was left with the strangest feeling that the thought made their new professor almost…_giddy._

With a gnarled hand he reached into the jar on his desk, pulling out a small spider and securing the lid back on.

Some of the girls in the front row gasped and squeaked at the sight of the creepy insect, but Winona and her friends just leaned forwards with interest. Moody charmed the spider to be three times its usual size, and again there was a low hum of mutterings throughout the room.

Winona could only watch, horrified, as Moody aimed his wand at the creature, cast the Imperius Curse and made the spider do his bidding.

Next was the Crutiatus Curse, as brought up by Angelina, who looked sick even as she spoke. Winona looked away in thick disgust as Professor Moody tortured the poor thing until it was barely clinging to life. She didn't want to even think what it must have felt like – but Moody explained anyway.

"Like a million searing hot needles cutting into every square inch of flesh on your body," he said, a gleeful note in his growling voice that sent chills of disgust across Winona's skin. "Like all your organs are being cooked in boiling water at once. Like someone's pouring acid over your nerves. That's what the Crutiatus Curse feels like. Cast it for long enough and you'll be able to break anybody, no matter how strong of mind."

His tongue darted out, licking his lips before shooting back inside his mouth. Winona ground her teeth together, looking away.

"Can anyone tell me the final Unforgivable?

There was only silence, nobody game enough to answer. Moody didn't quite look disappointed, but he certainly didn't look understanding either. He tutted, like they were all immature children who couldn't stomach the realities of his harsh world.

"The Killing Curse," he said, hard and emotionless. "Quickest and easiest way to kill your desired target. Instant death to whoever it hits, no exceptions – except one."

And suddenly Winona knew what was coming. Her hands balled into fists, a lump appearing in her airway, making it difficult to breathe.

"Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse thirteen years ago," said Moody, and everyone shifted in their seats except Winona, who was perfectly, dangerously still. "To this day, nobody knows how," he said, sounding almost wistful. Winona hated him a little bit more. He cleared his throat and continued on. "The thing about an Unforgivable, particularly the Killing Curse, is that you have to _mean it_."

He lifted his wand, aiming it at the spider on the desk.

"_Avada Kedavra,_" he snarled with feeling.

Like the words were some kind of instant trigger, the world disappeared around Winona, reality slipping away as she was caught by the tide of time.

It was cold, in the sort of way that chilled your bones rather than your skin. It smelt of death and decay, the stench was overpowering. Flashes of bright light, red and green, and ghostly, urgent whispers from all around her.

Winona came back to the present abruptly, only to find everybody's chairs scraping the floor as they stood to their feet and left the classroom, all jabbering excitedly about how thrilling a lesson it had been. She'd missed virtually the whole thing, thanks to a bloody _vision. _At this rate she was never going to pass her NEWTs.

"Miss Andrews, was it?" Moody was directly above her, peering down at her both with his magical eye and his regular one.

She pressed the page holding the prediction against her chest, keeping it hidden. George was still beside her, now with Fred hovering on her other side, identical concern shining in their eyes. She was relieved to have them there, and could only hope nobody else had noticed anything was off.

"Come have a chat," Moody said, the lighthearted words contradictory to his severe appearance.

Winona didn't particularly want to go anywhere with Moody, but she wasn't about to refuse him. He was still a teacher, after all. The last thing she needed was a detention.

"You guys go on ahead," Winona told the twins, forcing a smile onto her lips. "I promise I'm fine."

They didn't look convinced, but they also knew it was more trouble than it was worth to argue the point. Nodding, they picked up their things and reluctantly turned to go. "See you at dinner?" Fred asked, and she was quick to nod.

They disappeared out the door, leaving a reluctant Winona completely alone with ex-Auror Moody.

The Defence teacher grabbed the chair in front of her desk, dragging it closer with a sharp ring of noise that made more chills appear on her skin, before collapsing into it with something of a relieved sigh.

"Sorry about zoning out like that, Professor," she began to apologise. "I've got a bit of an attention disorder–"

"I know all about your particular gifting, Miss Andrews," Moody interjected, and the words fell dead on her tongue. "Dumbledore explained everything."

An uneasy feeling curled in her stomach. "Did he?"

"I suppose I'm part of the inner-circle, now," he said, and Winona got the feeling it was meant to be some sort of joke. She mustered up a fake titter of laughter, but it was faint and unconvincing. "May I see what you've predicted?" he asked, leaning further over the table, tongue darting out again to wet his lips.

"Dumbledore doesn't like it when I show other people what I've drawn," she said, not technically a lie. "If he thinks you should see it, then I'm sure he'll show you, Professor."

Moody's normal, beady little eye hardened like concrete. "You always do everything Dumbledore tells you to?" he asked sharply, the words more spat than spoken. Winona frowned, taken aback by the malice behind the response. Moody reached into one of his many pockets, pulling free a small flask, popping the top and taking a healthy sip of whatever was inside. "Forgive me," he said once he'd put it away. "To find someone who sincerely possesses the Sight…" he trailed off, a hungry look in his one good eye. "It's more rare and valuable than you know."

Ice settled low in Winona's gut. "Valuable?"

"To the right people," he replied, matter-of-fact. "These are dark times we're in, Miss Black."

That definitely was no slip of the tongue. He was showing her exactly how much he knew, and she nervously wondered why. "It's Andrews," she corrected him, her voice as pretty and as hard as diamond.

"Not by birth," he countered, magical eye spinning around in its socket.

"No, but by choice." There was a pause, each assessing the other, silent and considering. "What do you mean, these are dark times?" she asked, the words getting stuck in her head. "The Wizarding world is at peace."

This time Moody definitely smiled; an ugly, twisted expression. "Is it?" he asked, and she decided once and for all that this guy was batshit crazy, with an unhealthy dose of creepy mixed in.

"I should go," she said, shoving her sketchbook back into her bag and climbing to her feet, shouldering the strap and heading for the door.

Moody said nothing as she scurried away, and she didn't look back as she left, rushing directly through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower, the one place she knew she'd feel safe. And the image she'd drawn of an empty, eerie graveyard seemed to be burning a hole in the material of her bag as she walked.

The week passed quickly and despite Winona's personal resolution to keep from growing upset by whatever secret the twins were keeping, she couldn't help but feel slighted. They would huddle together more often than not, sometimes leant over parchment, writing something that they would hide whenever she got close. They would whisper to one another, and weren't as quick to mess around between classes. Once they even passed up an offer of strudel in the kitchens in favour of visiting the library for 'study purposes'.

She was struggling to keep herself from forcefully demanding answers. She reminded herself over and over again that they had every right not to tell her something. But despite her best efforts to keep cool, calm and collected, it was late one Thursday night that things finally came to a climax.

She was heading back up to Gryffindor Tower after her first lesson of the year with Professor Trelawney. It had been virtually as useless as ever, she'd learnt nothing, and her time would have been far better spent working on homework – and yet she'd gone anyway, because Dumbledore said she had to.

She thought that maybe Moody was onto something – did she always have to do everything Dumbledore told her to? Although, however interesting a topic, it was a question for another day.

She was just passing the Charms corridor when she was yanked into an alcove in a move that was becoming frightfully familiar.

"Jeremiah," she hissed as his hands gripped her hips. "What're you doing? It's after curfew. You should be in your common room," she said, bracing her hands on his wiry chest.

"Wanted to see you," he mumbled around the wet kisses he was lavishing upon her neck.

She let him grope her, but her thoughts were elsewhere. They went from her musings over her blind obedience to Dumbledore to her blind involvement with Jeremiah. What was she getting out of this? Did he love her? Did she love him? Was that even important? Was there a point to any of it?

When she thought about him, about him looking at her and touching her, she felt butterflies. Maybe it was simply because it was forbidden, or maybe there really was a connection there. It was so hard to tell. The lines were beginning to blur.

"What're we doing?" she'd asked before she could stop herself.

Jeremiah pulled back, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips, so tight it bordered on painful. "What are we doing?" he parroted cooly, somehow coming off as unimpressed by the question.

"I mean, we snog, we shag, but that's it. There's never anything else. Don't you want more?" she asked, clinging to a pointless hope. Jeremiah's expression was cold, and with shaking hands she reached up to press her palms against his cheeks. "I want more," she admitted shyly, feeling very much like she were baring her soul.

She wasn't sure how unexpected it was when he rolled his eyes, pulling away from her sharply. "I thought we were over this, Andrews," he said in a frustrated sort of voice, like she'd done something to disappoint him. "I thought you weren't like other girls. I thought you just wanted a bit of fun."

Feeling a flare of misplaced bravery, Winona swayed closer, swallowing around her dry mouth and pressing her hands to his chest once more, hoping the contact might warm him up some. "I'm beginning to…" she trailed off, struggling to find the words. "I want more," she finally said again, hopeful and sure.

Jeremiah's expression went dark. "Holding hands and sitting at one another's House tables isn't something we can do," he told her sternly, not a note of gentleness in his voice. It was all Winona could do not to flinch back like she'd been slapped. "I want to keep doing this with you, but I'm not ready for more. Not now. Not ever. This has to be enough."

Winona looked away, feeling the humiliating sting of tears in her eyes. Jeremiah pulled away from her with a small sound of irritation.

"Come find me when you've gotten yourself together," he said callously, stepping away from her and wiping off his shirt like her touch had left some kind of residue on the fabric. With a final, derisive sort of glance, he swept away, disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

What was wrong with her? Was she too needy? Was she being insecure? Clearly he wanted someone with more maturity.

Hurt filled her, along with a sharp sense of inadequacy that left her feeling like she'd been tossed carelessly off a cliff face and met the bottom with open arms. She took a few deep breaths, trying to get herself under control, then turned towards the path that would lead her up to Gryffindor Tower.

The walk felt longer than usual, and so much more lonely. By the time Winona got to the Fat Lady, she was no longer close to tears, but instead had gathered herself, pasting on her most unaffected expression.

She was more than tired as she climbed clumsily through the portrait hole, smothering a yawn with her hand. The day itself, along with everything with Jeremiah, had left her exhausted. She prayed to Merlin that she might fall asleep with ease, knowing her best bet at escape was unconsciousness.

Her plan was to head straight up to bed, but then she caught sight of the twins pressed together at a table along the far wall, a piece of parchment between them as they muttered between one another quietly.

Struck with inspiration, she changed her trajectory towards the two people who she knew could always make her feel better, no matter the circumstance.

Wandering over, filled with a thin bubble of hope, she greeted them with a simple, "hey guys."

Before she could take another step closer, Fred had not-so-subtly slipped a book over the top of whatever they were working on, leaning his elbow on it to keep it hidden from sight. Winona paused, staring at them both, considering her next move. Immediately she knew this encounter wasn't going to leave her feeling better at all. But she was in too deep to back out now.

"What's going on?" she asked, the words slow and deliberate, emotion curdling in her gut like bad milk.

"Homework," said Fred, wholly unconvincing even as he innocently batted his eyelids.

"Homework," she echoed skeptically.

"Yup, essay for Potions."

"We don't have an essay due in Potions," she called him out on his blatant lie.

"Extra credit."

She stared back, unimpressed. "So you're not going to tell me whatever it is you've been keeping from me?" she asked, giving up the pretence altogether and staring at him intently. From beside him, George was glancing between the two of them, torn and just a little bit wary.

"I told you," Fred insisted stubbornly. "It's homework."

Hurt rattled her insides, and it must have shown on her face, because Fred's innocent facade faltered and gave way to a guilty wince. But Winona wasn't in the mood for his guilt. He seemed to sense this too, and his hackles rose instead of dropped.

"Well, what've _you_ been keeping from _me_?" he asked suddenly, and her stomach swooped.

"Excuse me?" she bit out, the words like ice. Harry and Ron were perched in the corner working on their homework, and they both looked over as they heard the oncoming argument. It was rare for Winona to pick a fight with one of the twins. Rare enough that it felt almost like it went against the natural order of things.

"You say we're hiding something from you, but it goes both ways," Fred told her, the words sharp and defensive. "How about you tell me who you keep getting notes from, and where you keep sneaking off to, and then I'll tell you what we're doing?" he said, the ultimatum blatantly offensive.

She hadn't realised he'd noticed these things happening to her, but she knew now that she should have given him more credit. He wasn't an idiot. He was _so_ intelligent, if not one of the smartest people she knew. She supposed she'd just hoped that if she'd stuck her head deep enough into the sand, all of her problems would disappear on their own.

Despite this sound logic, she felt a small flame of irritation and anger flicker within her, like a fire being fed. Fred's eyes were hard and angry, showing no sign of guilt or compassion, and so she reacted in kind, gritting her teeth and glaring back at him icily.

"I am under no obligation to tell you anything," she hissed coldly.

"Oh, you're right, why would you? I'm only your _best friend_!" he shouted back, sharp and sardonic.

"I have a life outside of you, you know?!" she yelled, fingers curled into angry fists.

"Well, so do I!" he countered hotly. "But if you have to keep sneaking off with some guy, the least you could do would be to tell me. Or are you too ashamed to admit you're whoring yourself out to the whole school?"

Winona's heart dropped so low that it disappeared beneath the floor, along with any hint of calm she might have retained. "_Excuse me_?" she snarled, hoping against hope that he might hurry to take back the hurtful words.

"Fred, come on," said George carefully, reaching out to grab his twin's shoulder, attempting to pull him away from the brewing storm. "That was out of line," he tried to say fairly.

But Winona was too far gone to let him help cool things off. If Fred wanted a fight, then he sure as hell was going to get one. "What does it matter if I have a boyfriend? At least I actually have feelings for the person I'm with – _I'm_ not just with him for the _sake_ of it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" shouted Fred.

"You know exactly what it means," Winona snarled. "Do the decent thing and break things off with Angelina. Anyone with eyes can see you're kidding yourself."

Fred took a large step forwards, glowering down and towering over the much shorter blonde. But Winona wasn't so easily intimidated. She stood her ground, glaring up at him defiantly, nostrils flared with fury.

"You don't know _anything_ about me or my relationship with Ange," he hissed at her hotly.

"Yeah? Kind of like how _you_ don't know jack about me and––" Winona cut herself off sharply, stopping just before saying Jeremiah's name. She snapped her teeth shut, grinding them together and scowling at Fred, who leaned closer and held a hand to his ear facetiously.

"No, no, please," he said around an uncharacteristic sneer. "Tell me exactly who is _so_ important. Tell us all who exactly is worth it all."

"None of your goddamn business, Weasley," Winona snarled at him, feeling her eyes begin to water with rage.

Fred took a step back, scoffing loud and sharp. "What happened to you?" he asked darkly.

"What are you keeping from me?" she countered coldly.

There was silence, neither of them answering. It was a tense stand-off, and George looked especially nervous from his place behind Fred, gaze shifting between the two warily.

A hand touched Winona's elbow, and she flinched, whipping around to glare at the person darkly only for the expression to drop when she found it to be nobody but Harry, his brow furrowed with a deep concern.

"Maybe you should head up to bed," her cousin suggested softly, casting a subtle glance around the room, where a small portion of Gryffindor House were staring at the group of them openly. Some looked irritated that the screaming match had interrupted their studying, while others were gaping, struggling to believe exactly what they were seeing.

Winona Andrews fighting with a Weasley twin? It was unprecedented.

"Yeah," she finally said, refusing to look Fred in the eye as she turned. "I think I will," she muttered, not bothering to say goodnight to anyone and gripping the strap of her bag, storming up the stairs leading to her dorm. That same fury was bubbling beneath her skin, blood like a potion in a cauldron set to boil over a flame.

Shoving her way into her room, she found the girls all sitting on their beds, essays and books in front of them, but none were paying them any attention. They were all staring at her in absolute silence, no doubt having heard the screaming match from downstairs.

Alicia and Hope's eyes were wide and shocked, while Angelina's were full of tears. Winona was too worked up to care, she grimaced at them all, making a beeline for the bathroom where she took a shower so hot, it was a miracle her skin didn't melt off. Then she went straight for her bed, shutting the curtains and casting a muffling charm on them so she didn't have to listen to her dorm mates' gossipy whispers about the fight.

She slept fitfully, eventually giving up and sketching absently by wand light. Her eyes stung all night long, but she didn't let so much as a single tear escape. She was stronger than that. She had to be.

* * *

The next morning, Winona was alone in the common room. She was sketching, just a simple outline of a night sky that she was planning to add colour to later. It was early, far before breakfast, before anyone else would even be awake. She loved the common room at that time of morning. It was peaceful, and just what her racing head needed.

To her great surprise, she heard footsteps on the stairs, and her throat tightened with panic, thinking for one brief moment that it might be Fred – and that she wasn't ready to face him yet. But to her relief, Harry's head of messy black hair appeared at the base of the staircase, his eyebrows lifted in surprise to see her there.

"Morning, Boy-Wonder," she gave her customary greeting, but the usually playful words fell flat.

"Are you alright, Winnie?" he asked, moving closer and gesturing to the spot on the couch beside her. She lifted her legs and once he'd sat down she placed them back in his lap. He looked surprised by the move of familial intimacy, but she soaked it up, enjoying the fact that he was probably the one person in the whole castle who wasn't currently cross with her. "I've never seen you and Fred fight like that," he said gently, pressing his hands gingerly to her ankles.

"I don't wanna talk about it," she mumbled, absently dragging her pencil across the page in her sketchbook. "What about you? Why the early start?" she asked, desperate to keep the attention off herself.

Harry's expression was suddenly guilty, and Winona felt her stomach swoop with concern. "There's something I haven't told you," he began quietly.

"Pray tell," she said, heart hammering with concern.

Harry took a deep breath, then began to speak. He told her all about his dream, what had happened in it, what he had seen. Winona listened intently, putting aside her sketchbook and shifting her full attention to her cousin.

When he was finished, she frowned at him in confusion. "But why didn't you tell me?" she asked him, undeniably hurt. She'd thought they told one another everything – and if not _everything_, then at the very least something this important had to make the cut.

"I know how you worry," he shrugged, a guilty look on his face. "I wrote to Sirius about it, though," he added, the guilt turning into concern. "That's actually why I'm up so early. He wrote back, said he was heading north, coming back towards Hogwarts."

"But he'll just risk getting caught," she exclaimed, panic seizing her. "He can't come anywhere near Hogwarts. The Ministry's still out for his head!"

Harry was already nodding. "I'm going to write him now, tell him not to come."

"I'll write him too," she decided, and Harry moved over to the closest flat surface, produced a quill and a piece of parchment and began to write. "Can I use the same parchment?" she asked once he'd finished signing his name.

Harry nodded, and she took his quill, dipping it in ink and then pausing. What could she say? What _should_ she say?

She wanted to tell him things were awful, that she felt like her sanity was slipping away, like she was losing her very best friends, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. But, at the same time, her and Sirius' relationship had yet to evolve to the point where she felt comfortable baring her soul. At the heart of it all, they were still complete strangers.

Father or not, it took more than a single meeting and a handful of letters to build trust between two people. Taking a deep breath, she began to write.

_Sirius,_

_Please don't head north. Harry's fine, I'm fine, and there's absolutely no reason for you to go putting yourself in danger. Please, be smart. Write us when it's safe and let us know you're okay._

_-Winona_

She handed the letter back to Harry, and he sealed it in an envelope. "Want to come up to the owlery with me?" he offered. She leapt at the opportunity, nodding her head and sweeping to her feet, shoving away her art supplies and following him to the portrait hole.

They walked in companionable silence, wandering their way through the utterly silent castle. Winona felt a wave of sadness at the realisation of how much she loved it there, and how limited her time there was. It was already her second to last year. Time really did fly when one was having fun.

She opened her mouth to mention this to Harry, only to be interrupted by a loud cackle from overhead. Both of them started, turning to grimace at Peeves, who hovered above them, a wicked grin on his impish little features.

"Awfully early for a stroll," he cackled like it were side-splitting a joke. Winona wasn't surprised – apart from the Bloody Baron, she wasn't sure there was anything Peeves didn't find hilarious.

"We're just heading to the owlery," Winona told him impatiently. "Go harass someone else, Peeves. We're not in the mood."

"Oh! Itty-bitty Andrews isn't in the mood!" he crowed in that high-pitched, playful voice, floating around them in circles.

"Come on," said Harry, taking her arm and gently pulling her along, keeping his head ducked to avoid meeting the poltergeist's eyes. Like that might help.

Peeves only cackled again, and when the cousins looked back up it was to see a large, ornamental vase falling from its podium towards them. Letting out a yelp, Winona acted on instinct, yanking her wand free from her hair and yelling the first spell that came to mind.

The vase froze in mid-air, like someone had hit pause on the television. Harry blinked in surprise, and Winona turned to glare at Peeves. "Get lost, Peeves, or I'll fetch the Bloody Baron and see what he thinks of your little tricks," she threatened him darkly.

Peeves pouted like a scorned child, blew a loud raspberry in their faces, then zoomed out of sight before either Gryffindor could so much as say another word.

"What spell is that?" breathed Harry, eyeing the frozen vase cautiously.

"Freezing charm," she told him with a huff, thinking internally that it was far too early in the morning for this shit. "You learn it fifth year," she added distractedly, muttering a quick _Wingardium Leviosa _and gently guiding the large, and no doubt expensive, vase back onto its stand.

She finished, rolling her neck to work out the kinks and tucking her wand back into the knot atop her head, setting off once more for the owlery. She would have had to have been blind not to notice Harry's stare on the side of her face.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You're just really good at magic," he told her, giving a small shrug. Winona couldn't help but snort in callous disbelief. "You are," he insisted, and she sent him a fond smile.

"I'm good with Charms and Jinxes, I s'pose," she conceded. "But _never_ trust me to turn a turtle into a tea kettle. My Transfiguration is rubbish."

Harry smiled, and they continued on in silence for awhile. Outside the air was sharp and brisk, autumn slowly becoming winter, and Winona revelled in the chill in her lungs.

"I know you said you didn't wanna talk about it…" Harry trailed off suddenly, eyes on his feet as they wandered across the courtyard, slowly heading for the owlery.

Winona tightened her grip on her bag, reaching up to fuss with the topknot in her platinum hair. Without even saying much, she knew he had a point. She didn't particularly _want_ to talk about it, but she also knew that if she didn't she'd probably explode from the tension next time it was least convenient. Besides, if she was going to tell anyone, she'd rather it be Harry.

"They're keeping something from me," she told Harry, with no need to clarify who _they_ were.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

The look she shot him was equal parts fond and exasperated. "If I knew that, there wouldn't really be an issue in the first place, would there?" she countered quickly. Harry's cheeks went a little pink, making her chuckle.

"You haven't _Seen_ it, I mean?" he asked, dark brows pulled into a frown.

"Nope," she shrugged, making it seem less depressing than it felt. Harry's frown deepened, his concern for her obvious. "If I got a vision for every problem I had in life, things would be a hell of a lot simpler, wouldn't they?" she mused, nudging his shoulder playfully with her own. "Besides, as upset and irritated as I am with those two, I'm not going to invade their privacy by spying on them with my inner eye," she added reasonably.

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right," Harry murmured. "Do you think you'll make up with them?"

"The proud, bitter part of me wants to say no," she admitted to him quietly, the words an admission for only him to hear. "But of course I will. I need them. They're my _people_. Besides, I know they probably have a good reason for not telling me whatever it is they're not telling me," she said around a heavy sigh, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I guess I just have to trust them," she finished, the words a little flat and a lot sad.

"But you do, don't you?" Harry pressed, that puzzled frown on his face. "Trust them?"

"With my life," she replied immediately, the words an instinct, but nevertheless true.

"Then what's the problem?"

Winona didn't speak, lips pressed into a thin line as they began their climb up the steep steps that led to the owlery.

"They said you were keeping a secret, too," Harry said halfway through their trek. "Is it because you know that if they're honest with you, you'll have no choice but to be honest with them?"

Winona couldn't help the small quirk of her lips. "When did you get so wise, Boy-Wonder?" she asked him with another playful bump.

But Harry didn't smile, he only frowned, seeing right through her weak attempt to derail the conversation. "What's your secret, Winnie?" he asked quietly.

Winona felt physically ill, faced with a terrible decision. If there was one person in the whole world she wanted to be honest with – even above the twins – it was Harry. But this wasn't something she could just say. Telling him the truth, admitting what she'd been doing, it was too much. Maybe she was just ashamed, or maybe she was too scared she'd lose his respect. Probably because she'd long since lost her own.

"Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies," she murmured to herself as they stepped onto the landing of the owlery.

"Sorry?" Harry asked, not understanding.

She smiled wryly. "I'm saying that I don't wanna lie to you, so it's probably best you don't ask me anything else," she replied, blunt and a little sad.

Harry frowned, considering. "Is it dangerous?" he pressed on heedlessly; ever the Gryffindor. "Are you in trouble?"

Emotionally, yes, but that probably wasn't the kind of danger he meant. "No," she told him, unsure whether it was true or not. "It's nothing, really," she added as they made their way over to Hedwig, the only snowy white owl in the whole tower. She stood out, feathers shining in the early morning light, seeming to glow against the dark browns and tawnies that surrounded her.

Harry didn't look up at her, cooing at his beloved owl and handing her their joint letter. Winona was suddenly struck with an urge to be honest – or as honest as she could manage, at least.

"It's just this guy I'm seeing," she revealed, and Harry looked up in surprise, one hand still gently stroking Hedwig's glowing feathers. "I don't think my friends would approve, and right now I just want to keep it a secret. We're not ready for people to know." And she doubted they ever would be, but she couldn't make her mouth form the sad, extra words.

Harry frowned again, pensive. "Is _he_ dangerous?" he finally asked, a perfectly reasonable question, one she felt compelled to answer honestly.

"I don't know," she admitted softly, looking away to hide the pain and confusion in her eyes. "I'd like to think he isn't, but…" she trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

"Are you happy?"

Winona paused again, considering the question seriously. "I don't know."

Harry leaned closer to Hedwig, murmuring something to her, to which she made a clicking sound and took off into the sky, off to find Sirius, the only family either of them had – other than each other.

"Well, from what I know of relationships – which really isn't much," he told her around a wry smirk. Winona had to smile. "I think you should be doing something, _be_ with someone, who makes you happy."

She chewed on her tongue a moment, debating how to answer. "The world isn't black and white like that," she finally said. "_Love_ isn't black and white like that."

Harry's expression made it obvious he didn't agree. "I think it is," he said simply. Winona didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything, merely winding her arm through his and leading the way back down the stairs. As once they headed towards the beautiful, looming figure of Hogwarts castle.

"What about you?" she asked him once their feet were pressed to soil rather than stone, trudging their way through the grass towards the school.

"What about me?" he echoed in confusion.

"Anyone caught your eye, yet?" she said playfully, gripping his arm tighter, grinning at him eagerly.

Harry's cheeks went bright red, and he let out an embarrassed groan. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"Oh, come on," she complained. "We just spent ten minutes gossiping about _my_ love life. Why can't we gossip a little about _yours_?"

"There's no one," he said, voice breaking a little over the words, and her grin widened.

"Am I gonna have to go get myself a vision, or will you just tell me now and save me the trouble?" she laughed.

"Hey!" he cried, pulling away from her, scowling at her with a mix of petulance and indignation, in the way only a teenage boy could. "You said you wouldn't do that to the twins, so you can't do that to me, either!"

Winona laughed, grabbing his arm again and pulling him along. "Alright, you have a point," she conceded with a playful roll of her eyes. "No visions for self-gain purposes," she droned like a child at daycare, reciting the rules to an overworked teacher.

"Thank you," Harry nodded, but even he couldn't hide the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and Winona grinned, her spirits lifted and her heart that little bit lighter.

They made their way to breakfast together, coming in about ten minutes after everyone else. Harry's friends were down the very front, near the teacher's table, so she let him go with a quick ruffle of his hair, then turned towards the pair of identical redheads sitting with Lee up the very back, closer to the doors.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she started forwards, dodging a group of first-year Hufflepuffs and winding her way over to them. George and Lee were discussing something, and from Lee's enthusiastic gestures she assumed it was Quidditch related. Fred, on the other hand, was twirling his spoon listlessly in his bowl of porridge, chin propped up on his open palm, eyes glassy and vacant.

She sat down beside Lee and opposite the twins, making sure the sound of her bag hitting the floor was loud enough to garner their attention.

The boys fell silent at her sudden appearance. She didn't bother with pleasantries, speaking loudly and clearly, eyes darting from Fred's to George's and back again.

"Sorry I was a tosser," she said plainly. "Something went down on my way to the common room, and when I got there and you were being all secretive again, I just snapped. I said some uncalled for shit, and I'm sorry for that. Most of it was said in anger and hurt. I didn't actually mean it."

The twins both blinked at her as one – in fact it would have been a little creepy if she weren't so used to it by now.

"If you don't want to tell me whatever's been up with the pair of you, that's fine, I respect you and your privacy, and I can only hope you can do the same for me."

The twins didn't seem to know what to say, glancing at one another, communicating in their silent way.

From beside her, Lee snorted loudly. "Who're you and what've you done with Winona Andrews?" he asked playfully. "The _real_ Winona would never handle this with so much maturity."

She didn't hesitate to glare at him. "Shut up," she warned him, and he wisely fell silent. Turning back to the twins, she watched as they switched their focus back to her.

"It's already forgiven, Win," said George with a small, affectionate smile. Fred nodded his head, although she couldn't help but notice an edge of ice that clung to his cornflower blue eyes. "We're sorry too, by the way," George added quickly.

"It's already forgiven," she promised him, and he grinned, turning back to his food and pulling Lee back into their previous conversation about the Holyhead Harpies.

Winona focused her attention on Fred, a small frown knitting at her brow. "What made you wanna apologise?" he asked after a moment, and her frown grew. "You're usually too stubborn to be the first one to concede."

She smiled, the expression a little dry. "I spent the morning with Harry," she revealed with a shrug. "He had some surprising words of wisdom for me."

"And what were they?" he asked curiously.

She considered not telling him, but in the spirit of forgiveness and honesty, decided to tell the truth. "That I should focus on what makes me happy," she told him simply. "And you make me happy."

Fred tilted his head, the look in his eyes suddenly intense. Winona felt her heart rate spike, but before she could so much as open her mouth, a familiar figure slid into place beside Fred, a wary frown on her pretty face.

"Both of you, I mean. You _and_ George," Winona quickly amended, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat and nodding her head at George, who was now using a salt shaker to illustrate whatever outlandish story he was telling. Angelina's frown was now more of a glare, and Winona knew more than just one apology was in order. "Sorry for what I said last night, Ange," she said, meeting her friend's eyes with only slight hesitance. "I didn't mean it, I was just acting out. I think you and Fred are perfect for one another."

Ange's steely expression melted, replaced by something more gentle and familiar. "Do you really think so?" she asked, a little wary but mostly just hopeful.

Winona chewed on her tongue, but saw no way out of the situation other than to say, "yeah, I really do," even though it was a complete and utter lie.

Angelina smiled, forgiving even despite Winona's cruel words the night before. "We all say things we don't mean," she said graciously, and Winona smiled back, hating herself that little bit more because, who was she kidding? She'd meant every single word.

Angelina began talking, saying something about some riddle her friend in Ravenclaw had brought up, but Winona wasn't listening to any of it. It hadn't escaped her notice that Fred had yet to offer an apology for his own words spoken out of anger the night before.

He had most of his attention on Angelina as she spoke, and so Winona took a moment to stare at his face. She couldn't for the life of her figure out what what going on inside his head. She'd been hurt more than she could say by what he'd said, and she wondered if maybe he wasn't apologising because somewhere deep down he'd really, truly meant every word.

That terrified her to the core, and she took a shaky breath, shutting her eyes a moment and willing the pain in her chest to go away. It took a minute, but finally the pain began to ebb. Slowly, she opened her eyes only to find Fred staring at her unabashedly.

She met his eyes without hesitation. She'd always been able to read him, no matter the situation. But suddenly he was like an ancient rune – impossible to decipher. She wondered what he was reading in her eyes; but she knew she'd never be brave enough to ask.

"What do you think the answer is, Winnie?" Angelina asked loudly, bringing her attention back to the conversation at hand.

She blinked, breaking her stare with Fred. "I think the answer is a cowboy wearing rain-boots."

Angelina frowned – clearly she wasn't anywhere in the realm of right, but Winona didn't particularly care. George leant over and started talking excitedly about this new Jinx he'd heard about, and Winona took the opportunity to pile her plate high with food and start eating.

Why did the world only seem to make less and less sense, the older she grew?

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to say thanks for the support last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one. Again, for those of you who are desperate to see Jeremiah piss off once and for all; it'll happen. We're getting there. But I'm taking this story slowly and realistically. Don't worry though, he'll get what's coming to him.**

**Thanks for your kind words about the fires. My family and I are still safe, but a lot of other families in my country aren't as lucky. Consider supporting them if you can, or even just tweeting at our Aussie government to get them to pull their finger out and actually do something about this catastrophe. **

**Review of the week goes to _Bjosefine_: thanks for your kind words about my writing. It's important to me that I balance canon and original content. I like seeing both types of settings when I'm reading fic, so it's fun to get the best of both worlds in my own writing. It's my hope that this story explores some facets of the Wizarding world that aren't in the books, and that it expands on the characters I enjoy most. Also, thanks for your thoughts and best wishes for my family in the wake of the fires. Like I said, we're all fine, but there are plenty who aren't as lucky.**

**I'll see you guys soon with another new chapter!**


	33. If the fates allow

"We can't keep doing this," Winona panted, robes bundled up around her thighs, the sleeves falling down to expose her pale shoulders to cold air of the dungeons.

Jeremiah gripped her tighter, and her head fell back with a huff at the sensations he was making her feel. "Why not?" he asked, coy and victorious as he looked at her through hooded eyes, remaining firm an extra moment before finally pulling away and straightening his own robes.

Winona hurried to do the same, pulling her school shirt back down over her chest and knotting her Gryffindor tie securely around her throat. Without very much dignity, she pulled her panties back up, settling her robes back around her legs.

"Doesn't it make you feel..." she trailed off, wondering how to word it. "Dirty?" she finally settled on, only to wince at how stupid it sounded when she said it aloud.

Jeremiah's eyes glinted in a way she might _almost_ call playful, if not for the sneer fixed on his lips. "That's the best part," he said slyly. She gave a small smile of weak agreement that seemed to appease him. "You go first, make your way back up to the entrance hall for dinner. Try not to look suspicious for once," he added in a dry voice, as though her antics could be awfully tiring at times.

"We didn't _actually_ get caught last time," she reminded him, just as flat as she ran her fingers through her messy hair. "Snape still thinks I was just down here to plant dungbombs."

The twins had been awfully confused when Snape had appeared by the Gryffindor table the next night, ordering her to follow him to serve her detention. "Detention?" George had parroted as she'd reluctantly gathered her things. Fred was similarly bemused. "What for?"

"Don't play dumb, Weasley," the Potions Master had snapped, sneering around the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "There's no doubt Miss Andrews was acting on _your_ orders. Dungbombs are something of your signature move, are they not?" he'd drawled in the tone of someone experiencing great boredom.

"You set off dungbombs without us?" Fred had asked, blinking at her in surprise.

"Andrews," Snape had snapped sternly, and with a grimace of distaste and a muttered promise to explain later, she'd scrambled to her feet and followed the Great Dungeon Bat down to his cave, where he'd proceeded to make her clean cauldrons for four hours – without the use of magic.

The whole time, all she'd been able to think was: _the shag with Jeremiah hadn't even been worth it._

"Well, get going, before anyone sees us together," Jeremiah muttered, bringing her back to the present.

It was certainly not the romance most girls dreamt about, but there all the same. For a split second she considered leaning in for a kiss, but at the last moment chickened out. Jeremiah didn't like showing affection if he wasn't already halfway through ploughing you like you were his whore – which, in all fairness, she basically was.

Swallowing back her own frustrations, Winona straightened herself up one final time before slipping out of the unused classroom and out into the hall. It was empty and silent, and she ducked her head down, ignoring the stares of the portraits, all of whom looked far too knowing for her liking.

She managed to wind her way up through the dungeons without any issues, but once she got to the entrance hall she was stopped abruptly by a large wall of students, all chattering excitedly about something at the foot of the staircase.

"Did you just come from the dungeons?" asked a familiar voice, and Winona looked over to see Ginny standing before her, a brow arched skeptically in her direction.

"No," Winona lied point-blank.

Ginny looked hardly convinced, which was fair considering Winona was still stood literally in the doorway leading down to the dungeons, but she thankfully didn't press the issue. She just crossed her arms over her chest and leaned towards the mass of students blocking the way.

"What's going on?" Winona asked, smoothing down her hair once again as she wandered from the entrance to the damp dungeon, stopping beside Ginny and pushing herself up onto her toes to try and get a look at whatever everyone was so excited about.

"Announcement about the Tournament," Ginny explained, looking rather unfazed by the whole affair. "The students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will get here next Friday. We're getting out of class early, but we have to go greet them out in front of the castle."

"Cool," Winona nodded, trying to look interested. To be honest, she was just tired and dirty and sore. She wanted nothing more than to head up to the dorms for a scolding hot shower and take her chances with a nap before dinner.

"Go on, then," Ginny told her just as her friend Luna appeared from the crowd. Winona smiled at her kindly. Luna was great; she never cared what anyone thought of her. Winona only wished she could be embody that sort of effortless confidence.

"Go on, where?" Winona asked Ginny innocently.

"Wherever you'd rather be right now," Ginny quipped.

Winona grimaced at how transparent she was. "I'm just dying for a shower," she said honestly, "and a nap, if the fates allow."

"Go," Ginny waved her off once again. "The twins were looking for you, by the way. I'll tell them where you've gone when I see them?"

"Thanks, Ginger," Winona said sweetly, reaching up to boop Ginny affectionately on the nose before hurrying around the crowd of students and back up to Gryffindor Tower.

She was lost in daydreams of a blissfully hot shower and maybe some equally hot chocolate from the kitchens, completely unaware of her surroundings as she said the password and climbed into the common room.

She was expecting it to be empty – everyone either down in the entrance hall with the rest of them or still making their way back from classes. She was surprised, then, when as she stumbled noisily into the room, tripping over a rug with a cuss, she was met with a sharp squeak and a loud thump.

Whipping her head around, Winona set her eyes on the most horrific thing she'd ever seen in her life. Fred was on the couch by the fire with Angelina. He was shirtless, eyes wide and horrorstruck, lips swollen from snogging. Angelina was holding her hands over her chest, which was clad in a less-sexy more-practical bra, the colour a plain white. Her eyes were narrowed, glaring at Winona crossly.

"Holy shit," Winona said before she could think to stop herself.

"_Winona_!" Angelina hissed, and finally gathering her wits, Winona let out a small squawk at the ridiculousness of the situation, slapping a hand over her eyes and turning her back on the embarrassed pair.

"Sorry," she told them quickly, hand still pressed firmly across her eyes. "Sorry. But really, be glad it was me. The common room? Honestly? You two are lucky a first year didn't walk in on you. Although, I s'pose it would've been a laugh for the rest of us," she rambled, unable to help the awkwardness she felt. She sealed her lips shut before she could say anything else and make the situation even worse than it already was.

"We're decent, Winnie," Angelina sighed, and Winona turned back, peeking through her fingers to confirm before lowering her hand and biting back a smirk.

They both looked embarrassed, but Angelina was more frustrated and sheepish, while Fred looked just to the right of mortified, as though he were _wishing_ it were a first year who'd walked in on them, rather than her.

"Anyway..." she muttered, idly toying with her hands, clicking her tongue at the uncomfortable situation. "I'm gonna go, uh," she faltered, "just go. That way," she clarified, pointing in the direction of the stairs before giving a weak, awkward smile and scurrying off towards the dorms.

She went straight for the shower, trying to let the scalding water wash away the image of Angelina on top of her best friend. She remembered that only a short hour ago, she'd been in the same position with Jeremiah, and promptly shuddered, scrubbing her skin extra hard, just to be safe.

She dressed in clothes for dinner – simple track pants and a grey sweater – and brushed her hair out, tying it behind her head in a sloppy bun. Then she took a deep breath and stepped back into the dorm, hoping that with any luck, Angelina wouldn't be waiting for her.

She never had been a particularly lucky person.

Angelina looked up from where she was sliding her feet into some worn sneakers, and if Winona wasn't mistaken, she was blushing. "Winnie," she greeted her awkwardly.

"I didn't see anything good, don't worry," Winona hurried to assure her, but Angelina didn't look comforted by the words. So, maybe it could have been phrased better. "What I mean is, I see you dressing up here all the time, so it's nothing new."

"But Fred––" she tried to say, embarrassment swimming in her eyes.

"Was just shirtless," Winona reminded her easily. "I've spent pretty much every summer at his house since first year – I've seen him shirtless before, Ange," she added with a snort. But her friend still looked humiliated. "Uh, sorry again about interrupting…it," she said stiltedly, unsure how to word it without offending her much more conservative friend.

But Angelina surprised her by giving a snort of wry amusement. "Nothing to interrupt," she said, bitter.

Winona's eyebrows just about escaped her forehead they raised up so high. "Oh?" she asked, curious despite the warning bells ringing in her head, telling her _DANGER: DO NOT PROCEED!_

But apparently the one word was all it took, because suddenly it was like she'd given Angelina permission to swoop closer, gushing about her sexual frustrations. Winona could only bite her tongue to keep from groaning aloud in sheer horror.

"You have a boyfriend, right?" Angelina asked in a secretive tone. Winona's eyes went wide. "Fred asked me if I knew if you were seeing anyone, because he and George think you are, but you won't tell them who," she whispered even though their dorm was completely empty, Alicia and Hope probably already down in the Great Hall for dinner. "I told him I didn't know, but it makes sense – all the sneaking around, I get it now. You've got a boyfriend."

Winona didn't want to outright lie to Angelina's face. Besides, anything she said to the contrary would only look like denial anyway. "Okay, yeah," she reluctantly admitted, heart thumping loudly in her chest. "I am seeing someone."

She graciously thanked Merlin when Angelina didn't press for a name. "And have you two…y'know…?" Angelina asked awkwardly, making a suggestive sort of movement with her hands.

"Are you really asking me about my sex life right now?" Winona asked, the whole thing abundantly surreal. When had they gone from bickering over whose shirt was whose to talking about boning their boyfriends?

"Come on, Winnie," Angelina bemoaned, reaching forwards to tug on her arm. "I don't have anyone else to go to with this stuff."

"Uh, Alicia? Hope? Katie? Hell, even Lee? Literally _anyone_ but me," she hissed, her cheeks growing warm. "I can't believe _you_ wanna talk about this. I mean, aren't you the one always telling us to be mature and wise and focused on our schoolwork?"

"Things change," Angelina muttered quietly. She looked so sad all of a sudden, so lost, that Winona didn't have it in her to turn her away any more.

With a deep sigh, she tipped her head back, prayed to Merlin for strength, before facing her friend properly and asking in a reluctant voice, "what exactly do you want to know?"

Angelina brightened, more than relieved by her friend's change of attitude. "So, you've, you've _done it,_ then," she whispered, eyes wide and imploring.

"First of all," Winona began with another heavy sigh, "if you can't _say_ the word sex, you're probably not ready to be _having _it."

Angelina's dark skin went just a few shades darker, and Winona smirked on the inside. "Well, that's just the thing," she murmured, suddenly shy. "Fred and I haven't…" she trailed off, still struggling with the word.

Winona blinked in surprise. "You haven't had sex yet?"

"We've fooled around a little, but we haven't…gone all the way, I guess you could say," she told Winona lowly.

Winona ducked her head to meet her friend's downcast stare. "You're not ready?" she asked sympathetically.

To Winona's surprise, Angelina scoffed. "_I'm_ ready," she told her with a touch more confidence than before. "Fred, however…" she trailed off again.

Winona tried not to splutter at the sheer horror of what she was gleaning from the conversation. "You mean he's having…issues?" she asked uncomfortably, making a suggestive hand gesture of her own.

"No!" Angelina cried, reaching up to rub at her face as she groaned. "What I mean is, he always stops us before we get to that point," she continued on once she'd reigned in her embarrassment.

Winona blinked, still surprised. "Every time?"

"Every time," Angelina confirmed with a grim nod. "And there've been a _lot _of times," she added a little wistfully.

Winona's insides curdled together. "Does he ever say why?"

"He only ever says that we should wait. Or that it's not a good time, or place. I feel like, really, he's just making excuses," she sighed the sigh of a sad, unsatisfied girl.

"That's weird," Winona murmured around a confused twist of her face. "He's a guy. Shouldn't they be desperate to get to that part? It's wired into their DNA or something, right?" she mused, thinking of her stolen moments with Jeremiah. It seemed sometimes that it was the only thing ever on his mind. The Slytherin was insatiable.

"You know from experience?" Angelina pushed, a little impish but mostly just curious.

"You could say I do, yeah," Winona admitted, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, balling the material up in her fists.

"Can I – can I ask you something?" Angelina asked softly.

"Uh, sure."

Angelina's skin grew darker once again, the look in her eyes innocent and yet somehow also not. "What does it feel like?"

Winona couldn't have possibly stood to her feet any faster. "Nope," she said immediately, holding out a hand as though to physically swat away the question. "Not going there."

"Come on, Winnie," Angelina begged, hurrying after her.

"Uh-uh," she insisted, forcing her bare feet into shoes and making a break for the door. "Nope. Not happening."

"Winnie!" Angelina complained.

"Nope!" she called back for the third time, voice carrying as she picked up her bag of art supplies, shoved the door open with her shoulder, and escaped out into the hall. The common room was mostly empty when she wandered down, all except for Fred, who was standing by the fire. She'd never seen him look so awkward before.

"Win!" he exclaimed upon seeing her, an anxious look to his face. Winona desperately wanted to bash her head against the stone wall, hoping it might knock her out just long enough to avoid whatever conversation was coming.

Only Fred didn't say anything. He just cleared his throat, awkward and unsure. Winona gripped the strap of her bag tightly, chewing on the inside of her cheek and trying to neither laugh hysterically nor go give herself that concussion.

"Uh, is Ange okay?" he finally asked after a long, extremely uncomfortable silence. It seemed like an afterthought, like smalltalk, almost.

Winona cringed as thoughts of Angelina's questions flooded her brain. "Yeah," she answered him shortly, clearing her throat when her voice sounded wrought. "Yeah, I'm sure she'll be down in a moment."

"Good," Fred nodded again, but the look in his eyes was distant, his thoughts elsewhere. She realised he was probably wondering how much Angelina had told her, and couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her lips as though summoned.

A little mischief to make herself feel better certainly wasn't out of the cards, was it?

"What?" asked Fred anxiously when he caught sight of her impish expression. Winona said nothing, content to let him stew. "_What_?" he pressed anxiously, growing stressed in the face of her silence.

"Nothing," she said, widening her eyes and fluttering her lashes innocently. Fred, practically her mentor in all things mischievous, only seemed to grow more uncomfortable.

"What did Ange say?" he pressed, looking very much like he hoped the castle itself would swallow him whole, never to be heard from again – because at least then he wouldn't have to deal with this conversation, either. Winona could relate.

"Nothing," she told him again, voice holding just an edge of playful teasing. She gave a tiny little grin and walked past him casually, heading straight for the portrait hole. But Fred caught hold of her elbow, pulling her gently back to him. Surprised, she glanced up at him, firelight dancing across his freckled cheeks. "Fred," she said gently, the genuine anxiety in his blue eyes beginning to hurt her heart. "I'm messing with you. She's barely told me anything," she promised him.

He didn't look totally convinced, but she didn't waver, staring up at him imploringly, wanting to soothe his fears.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head, allowing a hint of impishness to return to her eyes, hoping it would cheer him up. "Is there something to tell?"

"No," he muttered immediately, like it were a reflex. Too fast, she noted, meaning it was a lie.

"Okay," she said instead of calling him on it. "Well, I'm gonna head down to dinner now," she told him, gently extracting her arm from his grip. He blinked down at their hands in surprise, as though he'd forgotten he was still holding on. "You okay?" she asked slowly. "You seem a little out of it."

"Just..." he trailed off, not seeming to know how the sentence would end. In his eyes were a hundred million thoughts, she could see them swimming around in his irises like fish in a pond. Questions and desires and secrets and more questions. So many things he wasn't saying – just another barrier between them. She hoped he would voice at least one, just one thing to get a glimpse inside that brilliant brain of his. But in the end, all he said was, "it's nothing. I'm just a little tired."

She was disappointed but refused to let it show, bobbing her head once and attempting a smile before beginning to slowly edge away.

"I'm gonna, uh, gonna wait for Ange," he told her, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Okay," she replied. "I'll see you down at dinner."

And she turned away, feeling that barrier between them grow to be the size of a canyon, full of everything they weren't saying.

* * *

The day of the thirtieth dawned and Winona woke late, having been up the whole night before, busy sketching and experimenting with her watercolours. Nobody had woken her – but that wasn't unusual, her dorm mates knew how cranky she could get.

Dressing quickly, she made her way down to the common room, surprised to find Hermione loitering at the foot of the boys' stairs.

"Hey 'Mione," she greeted her around a small yawn.

"Oh, Winona!" said Hermione energetically, and Winona blinked at the crazed look in her eyes. "I've been looking for you the last couple of nights, but you haven't been in the common room."

"Detention, kitchen visits, assorted pranking escapades," she waved her hand vaguely, "you know how it is."

The look Hermione cast her that she most certainly did _not_ know how it was, but she was on task now, not to be distracted by Winona's rebellious attitude towards school and life in general. "I've started an organisation," she began importantly, then stopped as though waiting for a comment.

"You have?" Winona blinked in surprise. "Uh, brilliant."

"It's called S.P.E.W.," she told Winona with a smile. "It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

Winona could only blink again. " 'Mione, I just woke up and I haven't had a cup of tea yet," she reminded the energetic witch. "You'll have to break it down for me."

"Basically we're advocating for the rights of House Elves," she told her eagerly.

"Oh," Winona murmured, taking the information in. "That's nice," she added, trying to be supportive. "Um, what're your aims?"

"Thank you for asking! We have an array of short-term and long-term goals, but what it all boils down to is liberating the House Elves from their enslavement, beginning here at Hogwarts."

Winona took yet another beat to understand. "Right," she said, slow and careful. This was obviously something she was very passionate about, misled though it may have been.

"Would you like to buy a badge?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Only two sickles."

Winona was saved from having to answer by the appearance of Ron and Harry. They seemed to be in good spirits, talking excitedly about the other schools that would be arriving that very afternoon, musing on what the students might be like. Apparently Ron had heard some very nice things about the Beauxbatons girls in particular.

He cut off what he was saying when he noticed Hermione and Winona at the foot of the stairs, ears going a little pink.

"Morning boys," Winona greeted them with an easy smile. "Excited for today?"

"Yeah, especially since we get to leave Potions early," Harry said brightly as the four of them began to walk towards the portrait hole, climbing through one by one and making their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ron and Hermione went up ahead, bickering pointlessly about one thing or another – as was usual – while Winona and Harry hung back, chatting a lot more amicably about the coming Triwizard Tournament.

"Would you enter, if you could?" she asked him quietly.

Harry took a moment to think. "I dunno, maybe," he said, clearly torn. "Eternal glory isn't exactly something I'm dying to achieve, and it's not like I need the extra Galleons." Winona hummed, knowing it was the truth. Besides, Harry was already famous enough – and he hated it. Why would the Boy-Who-Lived want any more attention than he already had? "What about you? I know the twins are dying to find a way to get picked."

"Let them," Winona scoffed. "The last thing I want is to get involved in the Tournament. It just sounds like too much effort. _Three extremely dangerous tasks_?" she said in her best impression of Dumbledore's croaky voice. "I have better ways to spend my time than risking my life for a couple bucks and a shiny trophy," she shrugged, and Harry smiled at her answer.

The Great Hall had been fully decked out, banners floating atop every House table, all showing their animal mascot. The four of them wandered over to the red and gold one, and Winona spied the twins sitting a little away from the others, murmuring between one another quietly.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying, voice a little more gloomy than she was used to. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

Winona wanted to speak up, but Ron beat her to the punch. "Who's avoiding you?" he asked, sitting down beside them and already beginning to pile his plate high.

"Wish you would," snapped Fred in reply, irritated by the interruption. Winona sat down opposite them and beside Harry, reaching across the table to snatch some of the bacon off Fred's plate. He didn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in being defensive about his secrets.

"What's a bummer?" Ron pressed, looking at George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," replied the other twin without so much as a moment's hesitation.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked them lightly, probably sensing the oncoming squabble and rushing to avert it. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen, but she wasn't telling," George told him bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"It was pretty funny, actually," Winona admitted to the Golden Trio once she'd swallowed her mouthful of Fred's bacon. "She looked about ready to transfigure _him_ into a pillow."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" Ron mused thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before," he said eagerly. Winona snorted loudly, making the youngest Weasley brother frown at her in offence.

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred before he could say anything in retort to her amusement. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who're the judges?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione with ease, like she were reciting it from a book – which, knowing her, she probably was. "Because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

They all stared at her, and she gave an important humph.

"It's all in _Hogwarts, A History_. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. _A Revised History of Hogwarts_ would be a more accurate title. Or _A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School_."

Winona's face scrunched in confusion. "What are you on about?" asked Ron in bemusement that Winona matched.

"House-elves!" cried Hermione, her eyes flashing, and Winona fought the urge to groan, hoping she wouldn't ask her to buy the badge again. The last thing she wanted was to walk around with a badge that read SPEW. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A History_ mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

Fred looked away, probably to keep from arguing with her over the cause. His eyes drifted to his plate, only to find it empty of the bacon that had been there a moment ago. His eyes darted up to Winona, who didn't even bother trying to look innocent as she munched on a rasher of bacon.

"There's a whole plate there, y'know," he grumbled, but she could tell from the warm glint in his eyes that he wasn't that irritated. She smiled at him sunnily before turning her attention to George and Hermione's conversation.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?" he was asking her patiently.

"No, of course not," Hermione said primly, "I hardly think students are supposed to-"

"Well, we have," said George, gesturing at Fred and Winona. When Hermione shot them a look of utter disapproval Winona shared a smirk with Fred at her ire. She was flooded with relief at their exchange. Was it her imagination, or had that gaping canyon between them just shrunk a little? "We've been loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them – they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world, don't they Win?"

Winona shot him a glare for roping her into it, but she couldn't help but say, "He's right, 'Mione. The Elves have the time of their lives down there. All you've gotta do is speak with one to know."

"That's just because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but before she could continue with what Winona was sure would have been a rousing debate, the owls arrived with the post, effectively cutting her off, much to everybody's relief.

Winona was just grabbing some pancakes when she realised Hedwig had landed on Harry's arm, little leg stretched out, a pair of letters tied together with twine.

"Sirius?" she asked Harry in a whisper, and he nodded, glancing at both envelopes before handing off the one with her name scrawled across the front.

Harry began to read his to his friends, but Winona was more interested in her own reply, shuffling slightly away from the trio and towards the twins, who were now happily discussing their plan to fool this impartial judge and get into the Tournament.

She quickly opened the envelope, fishing out the parchment inside. The words on it had been written hastily, like he'd been strapped for time.

_Winona,_

_Are you stubborn? If so, you get it from me._

_I'm already in the country, safely hidden. I won't be found any time soon. Don't worry about me. I am concerned about Harry, though. I know you're watching out for him, but with his scar hurting again…well, just don't stop watching him. Keep me posted about what's happening at the castle. And use the same owl as Harry – a different one every time, as well._

_I hope to see you again soon._

_~Sirius_

"What's that?" Fred's voice brought her from her daze as she reread Sirius' letter. She sat up properly, subtly running her fingertip down the page, the parchment cool under her skin.

"It's a letter," she told him plainly, and he rolled his eyes so hard she briefly worried he'd give himself a migraine. "It's from Sirius," she continued once she'd enjoyed herself enough. She held it out for him and he took it with a smile, leaning closer to his twin so they could read at the same time.

"So he came back, then," said George with a hum, lifting a goblet of juice to his mouth.

"Wonder where he's hiding," mused Fred. Winona snatched the letter back, folding it delicately and slipping it into her pocket.

"Let's not wonder too loud, yeah?" she murmured, and he agreed with a nod.

The day passed slowly, the entire school abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Winona was more than relieved when the day finally ended, their Care of Magical Creatures lesson cut short by a half hour, and they all meandered back up to the castle to deposit their things.

Everyone but Winona walked down to the entrance hall without a bag – they'd been told they weren't allowed – and Snape looked like he desperately wanted to snipe at her for it, but even he knew that she was the one person in the castle that order didn't apply to.

In a way, her bag was kind of like a safety net. Part of it was simply practical – what if she had a vision, but was stranded without anything to draw on? But over time it had become something of a security blanket. She knew that she felt safer when she had it on her, safer when she could clutch the strap and know her supplies were within. On the rare occasions she went anywhere without it, she could feel the difference in herself, her anxiety growing and threatening to choke her.

She idly wondered whether she'd ever be free of it, but also whether she ever wanted to try.

Outside, it was freezing cold. She had her robes on, wrapped around her tightly, keeping the frigid wind from touching her skin, but the cold seemed to seep up from the very ground, soaking her toes in ice.

They were waiting out there a good twenty minutes, the sky black and the air biting, with absolutely no sign of the other schools' arrivals.

Winona had always felt the cold more than everyone else, liking to rug up even in the warmer months, just to be safe. She was eternally chilly, it was her cross to bear. She began to shiver, teeth clacking together as she shook.

"Cold?" came Fred's voice suddenly. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing behind her, a small smile on his face, blue eyes nearly luminescent in the dying light of the ending day.

The force of his stare was almost too much to bear, and she looked away, eyes back on the stars above them. "No, Fred, I'm trembling because it's so hot outside," she replied with her usual degree of sarcasm, rewarded by Fred's answering chuckle.

"Come here," he said, and she was just about to glance over her shoulder in confusion, only for her best friend to unexpectedly wrap his arms around her body. He pulled her back against his chest and began rubbing his hands up and down her arms, clearly in an attempt to warm her up.

Winona couldn't help but laugh at his solution. It was such a _Gryffindor_ thing to do. "What're you doing?" she chuckled, gripping his arms and holding on, his skin hot beneath her own, like a source of heat in its own right.

"Keeping you warm," he told her, breath hot against her ear, and she had to make a conscious effort not to shiver at the sensation. The feeling of his arms, firm and strong, wrapped securely around her body, was making her stomach do funny things. Her insides seemed to twist and burn, but not in an unpleasant way. She could feel every jut and dip of his body against hers, and her skin prickled with awareness in a way she'd never before experienced – not even with Jeremiah.

She abruptly stopped laughing, taking a deep breath in an effort to regain her control, and she noticed that Fred had stilled from behind her. She wondered what might be going through his mind, what he could possibly be thinking, what his motivations had been in the first place. An innocent, playful gesture between friends? On the outside it may have looked that way, but from the inside, between the two of them, it definitely didn't _feel _like it.

"Hands off the merchandise, Freddie," came Lee's cheerful voice, abruptly breaking whatever silent, unspoken spell had befallen the pair. Fred's arms retreated, their weight disappearing from around her in a flash, leaving her feeling cold and exposed.

Winona shifted to the right, her own arms coming up to hold herself, but it was a cheap imitation for the warmth Fred had exuded. "Merchandise?" she forced herself to speak, glad the words sounded as playfully sharp as she'd intended. "I'm nobody's merchandise, Jordan."

"She's so cute when she's angry," Lee grinned like a giant dork, and she kicked him firmly in the shin in reprimand. He let out a curse that made McGonagall squawk, and Winona snickered at his expression.

From the other side of the pair, however, George wasn't smiling. He wasn't quite frowning, either. Instead there was a conflicted expression across his face, a kind of befuddlement, or maybe even a concern. Winona searched for the words to ask what was wrong, but she came up empty. Maybe because, deep down, she already knew.

Fred's words from the week before echoed unexpectedly in her head, remembering the awful things he'd said to her in anger. Hurt ricocheted through her, the same as it always did when she thought about it. She'd apologised for her behaviour, but he hadn't apologised for his.

But that was Fred, she supposed; he wasn't the type to apologise. He never had been. Winona wasn't even sure he knew how. She didn't dare turn to look at him, too afraid of what she might find reflected in his eyes.

Thankfully she was saved from having to face any of this, as a moment later someone near the front of the gathered Gryffindors was shouting for them all to look, and they turned as one to see some kind of giant carriage flying through the sky, its bottom grazing the tips of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. A dozen huge, winged horses were pulling it along, their coats glowing golden in the moonlight.

The large carriage landed, and a woman at least the height of Hagrid stepped out, her glamorous satin robes sweeping the ground, opals glittering on her fingers and around her throat. She greeted Dumbledore in a lilting French accent, and their Headmaster didn't even have to bend to kiss her hand in reply. They were a little far away for Winona to hear what they were saying, but she was more focused on the students spilling out of the carriage, anyway.

About a dozen boys and girls, all around their age, were stood clumped together, searching for heat. They were dressed in nothing but thin, blue satin robes, and were shivering even more violently than Winona.

The girls in front of her were giggling excitedly, and not even McGonagall's sharp glares could stop their tittering. "He's _cute_," whispered Katie, and Winona couldn't help but lean forward to engage.

"Who's cute?" she asked at a normal volume, and Katie, Alicia and Angelina all immediately shushed her, Katie's cheeks dark even in the low light.

"That Beauxbatons boy," her younger friend whispered, eyes on the group of shivering foreigners. "The one on the far right."

Winona narrowed her eyes at the boy in question, finding that she was right. He couldn't have been any older than seventeen, with broad shoulders, intense eyes and a jaw chiselled by Merlin himself. "Yeah, I can see it," she whispered back. The group of French teens began to wander past them, up into the warmth of the castle, and the girls watched with wide, appreciative eyes.

"I'd climb him like a tree," murmured Alicia sincerely, and both Winona and Katie let out snorts of amusement that made McGonagall scowl.

A few more minutes passed by, and Winona kept her eyes fixed firmly on the stars above them, halfheartedly searching for the arrival of the next carriage while trying desperately not to think about the way her body had hummed at Fred's touch. She wouldn't think about it. She _would not _think about it…

Her attention was snagged by Lee suddenly shouting, rather dramatically, "The lake! Look at the lake!"

A giant ship had appeared from the inky depths of the lake. It was creepy and skeletal, water dripping from its body back into the lake it had come from. An anchor dropped with a loud thud, and then a plank. People began to disembark, all of them wearing thick coats made of dark fur.

Winona watched as a tall, thin man emerged from the group, heading straight for Dumbledore, shaking their Headmaster's hand with a wide – however completely insincere – smile. They greeted one another amicably, and Winona watched in surprise as the man – whom could only be Karkaroff, Durmstrang's own Headmaster – waved forwards a student.

His face was revealed in the firelight, everyone around them began to mutter amongst themselves. It took Winona a moment to place him, and once she had she turned to Fred and George, both of whom were eyeing the young celebrity eagerly.

"Krum?" she asked in surprise. "Krum's a _student_?"

"You knew he was the world's youngest professional Seeker," George said, staring at Krum and Karkaroff as they ascended the stairs and disappeared inside the castle.

He was right, but she still hadn't known he was _that_ young, nor had she known he would be coming to her school for the year. Angelina and Alicia were muttering excitedly between themselves from up ahead, the cute Beauxbatons boy all but forgotten.

All the Heads of Houses began to shoo their students back up the stairs and into the castle, blessedly out of the freezing cold. Winona stuck close to Fred and George's side so she wouldn't get swept up in the crowd. She gripped Lee's arm and yanked him back to the flats of his feet as he attempted to practically vault over Angelina in an effort to get a better look at Krum where he stood up ahead.

They all settled into place in the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons kids sitting with the Ravenclaws, the Durmstrangs with the Slytherins. Winona rolled her eyes at the Slytherins' smug expressions, turning to mutter a joke at their expense to George that made him choke on thin air.

Dumbledore greeted everybody enthusiastically, then proclaimed the feast to begin.

All anybody seemed to be able to talk about over dinner were the foreign students and the Tournament set to officially begin at the end of the feast. "I'll bet Krum's the one picked from Durmstrang," said Lee in between scooping spoonfuls of stew past his lips. "They'd be mad to go with anyone else."

"What about from Hogwarts?" asked Katie from where she sat to his left, opposite Winona. "Who d'you think'll be our Champion?"

"Well, if we fail – which is unlikely – then it'll obviously be Ange," said Fred loudly, and Angelina ducked her head in embarrassment as several people turned in their direction.

"Shut up, Fred," she muttered, but the words lacked bite, and Winona could tell she was secretly pleased by his very public endorsement.

"What d'you think the tasks will be?" asked George eagerly, a question that had come up loads in the last few weeks. Everybody was speculating on what the three tasks could possibly be. Would they be dangerous? Exciting? Something they'd never be able to see anywhere else? Winona was curious too, but she got enough sneak peeks as it was. She was looking forward to them being as much of a surprise for her as everyone else.

"Whoa," breathed Lee before anybody could respond to George's musings.

"What?" asked Alicia she she'd swallowed her mouthful of black pudding.

Lee blinked as though dazed, lifting a hand and rather rudely pointing directly at some poor girl walking past. She was drop dead gorgeous, with luscious silvery-blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, and not only was Lee dazed, but so were the twins, all of them staring at her like they were looking at the Holy Grail itself.

Winona thought the girl reminded her of something she recently seen, but she couldn't figure out what, or where. She saw Angelina humph, eyeing Fred in annoyance as he gaped at the girl like an idiot. "Close your mouths, you morons," Winona said quickly, "you're gonna catch flies."

"If we do, it'll be worth it," muttered Lee emphatically, and the twins nodded in absentminded agreement.

Picking up a small handful of peas from the bowl in front of her, Winona took aim and tossed them into Lee's still-gaping mouth. He choked on the tiny projectiles, and she grinned triumphantly.

"Ohh, me next," said Fred, pulling his attention away from the Beauxbatons girl and leaning back on the bench, mouth held open in anticipation. Winona rolled her eyes fondly, tossing a pea at him, which he caught expertly. George broke into wild applause, like he'd just witnessed a record-breaking stunt at the Olympics.

"I'm surrounded by children," Angelina muttered to Alicia, but Winona couldn't even find it in her to be annoyed by the comment. She just grinned affectionately at the twins, turning back to her shepherd's pie and listening as the group moved back to their musings on the Tournament tasks.

Things continued, lighthearted and easy, until the remains of their dessert were magically vanished from their plates, leaving them sparkling clean, and Dumbledore stood to address everyone as one.

"The moment has come," said their Headmaster, and Winona watched as the twins leaned across the table to get a better look, laser-like focus in their identical blue eyes. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The crowd clapped enthusiastically for Ludo, but Winona couldn't help but notice the twins grimacing and eyeing the man with a simmering disdain. She filed the expressions away to be dealt with later, her attention focused on the beginning of the Tournament.

"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Everyone seemed to straighten at the mention of the champions, and Dumbledore gave a small, knowing smile.

"The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch," he said importantly, and Filch appeared from whatever dark corner he'd been lurking in, dragging a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It was old and worn but beautiful all the same. Winona leaned around Angelina so she could get a better look. "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways … their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament; one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Winona watched as Dumbledore withdrew a generally unimpressive looking goblet from the casket, holding it up for a moment for everyone to see.

It was full to the brim with flames, dancing an earthy, ancient dance within, glistening with a blue-white light. Winona's fingers twitched with the urge to try and encapsulate what she was seeing, immortalising it on paper forever. But there was a time and a place, and she knew that the others would be less than impressed if she chose that moment to pull out her sketchbook, so instead sat on her hands to keep them from straying.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

Everybody was still for an extra moment after Dumbledore had finished speaking, then the spell seemed to break and the whole Hall was full of the excited chatter of over a thousand students. Her friends all stood to their feet, but Winona remained in a daze, staring at the cup up front of the room, having the strangest feeling like she were forgetting something.

But, as always, it wasn't something that had already happened – rather, she was forgetting something yet to _come._

"Coming, Winnie?" Alicia asked when she realised Winona had to move. Starting and blinking out of her stupor, Winona hurried to nod, gripping her bag and climbing to her feet after the others.

"An Age Line!" Fred was saying loudly as they joined the sea of students flowing out into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing — it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione from ahead of them, having heard every word. "We just haven't learned enough…" she added, expression twisting with concern.

"Speak for yourself," said George briskly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Winona rolled her eyes, confident she already knew the answer. Harry barely coped with the attention he already had. The last thing he was going to do was go out of his way looking for more.

She opened her mouth to say as much, only to run smack-bang into Ron's back, the boy having come to a standstill in an effort to get a better look at Krum, who was walking towards them from his place at the Slytherin table.

Winona felt chills break out along the skin of her arms, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold, or Fred's confusing touch. Karkaroff had stopped dead, beady eyes fixated on Harry, or rather his famous scar. His students behind him were gawking too, making no move to hide their interest in the famed Boy-Who-Lived.

She could sense how uncomfortable Harry was, and stepped around her friends, shifting ever so slightly in front of her cousin, chin tilted up as if to say:_ you want him? You gotta come through me_.

And maybe it was an overreaction, but she couldn't deny just how much Karkaroff rubbed her the wrong way. The Durmstrang Headmaster's eyes flickered away from Harry, and fixed on her like daggers. His gaze trailed over her, and she wondered whether she was imagining the recognition in his creepy, unwanted stare.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," a familiar voice growled, and just as quickly, Karkaroff looked away.

He spun around to look at Moody, and Winona knew she wasn't the only one satisfied to see fear appear in the foreign wizard's eyes. "You!" he cried, voice dripping with malice and an age old accusation.

"Me," Moody agreed dryly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

Snapping his mouth shut so fast that Winona heard his blackened teeth crack together, Karkaroff spun on his heel, promptly leading his students out of the Great Hall, presumably back to their ship.

Knowing she had to keep the exit clear, Winona gripped Harry's arm, leading him out along with their friends. "All right?" she asked him under her breath, just to be sure.

"Yeah," he replied, doing a good job of looking unaffected.

"What a creep – am I right?" she muttered, and Harry gave a little puff of laughter.

"Winnie!" came the twins' voices in unison, the call of her name more of a whine than anything else.

"That's my cue," she sighed. "I have a feeling I'm gonna be up half the night overseeing these idiots and their latest scheme."

Harry smiled, shaking off the unsettling encounter with Karkaroff. "Good luck," he told her quietly.

"Come on, Winona," said George, too impatient to wait any longer, bounding over to her like he had springs attached to his shoes. "Time's against us," he added dramatically, scooping up her hand in his and eagerly tugging her down the corridor, weaving in and out of the Gryffindors all slowly meandering their way up to the Tower.

"Pray for me!" Winona cried back to Harry in jest, and she just caught sight of his grin before he was swallowed by the crowd.

Fred and Lee were up ahead but they reached them quickly, coming to a stop by their side, panting from exertion.

The boys said nothing as they bounded their way through the portrait hole, nearly tripping in their haste to get to their dorm. "I'll meet you guys there," Winona told them.

"What? Why?" whined Fred.

"Because I want to put on something more comfortable if I'm going to be up all night making sure you don't blow yourselves up," she retorted as she turned to leave, hearing Lee's snort follow her up the stairs.

She took a lightning shower, changing into some old, checkered sleep pants and a paint-stained teeshirt, then slipping some fuzzy socks onto her feet. She was just finishing up brushing her hair when the other girls made it back to the dorm, chattering animatedly amongst one another.

"You certainly took off in a hurry," commented Alicia upon seeing her sat on the edge of her bed, impatiently working at a stubborn knot in her hair.

"Oh, you know me," Winona replied vaguely, "places to be."

"You're leaving?" Angelina asked in surprise.

"Just for a few hours," she said, giving up on her hair and just piling it messily atop her head where it would remain out of her way. "I'll be back."

"Where could you possibly be going dressed like _that_?" asked Hope critically.

"Well, let's just say I'm not meeting the Queen," she replied, dry and unbothered as she scooped up her bag and made her way towards the door.

"A booty call? Really, Winona?" asked Angelina in a disappointed voice.

She spun back around, frown pulling at her face. "For your information, I'm actually going to go hang out with the twins, make sure they don't accidentally poison themselves in their latest scheme," she said curtly, eyes narrowed. "What exactly was it that crawled up your arse and died, Angelina?"

Her friend suddenly looked apologetic, but Winona was beyond caring.

"Whatever," she said, giving a shrug. "I'll see you guys later. Don't wait up."

The boys' dorm was a familiar space, almost as much as her own dorm. She thanked Merlin – not for the first time – that the twins and Lee were the only Gryffindor boys in their year. Their whole year was rather small compared to the others, in fact. Mrs Weasley had told her once that it was because they'd been born at the height of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's power.

The middle of a war wasn't exactly the most conducive place to be having babies, so the birthrate for that whole period of time was a little spotty.

Winona burst into the room without bothering to knock and found the boys all already changed into their pyjamas, George and Lee hovering over a cauldron while Fred leaned against the poster of his bed, flicking determinedly through George's Potions textbook.

"How's it going?" she asked, letting the door click shut after her, then locking it for good measure.

"Just making a checklist of all the ingredients we'll need for the potion," said Fred cheerfully.

"What's the plan if we _don't_ have everything?" she wondered.

"You can nick Harry's cloak and do a supply run," said George, looking up from where he was counting out his amount of lion-fish spines to shoot her a teasing grin.

"I'll do no such thing," she replied primly, making a beeline for Fred's bed. She bounced on the mattress for a moment before settling herself back against Fred's pillows and digging into her bag for her art supplies. "Look, I've already got my fuzzy socks on," she added as though it were an airtight argument, lifting her leg and wriggling her toes at them playfully.

The twins exchanged an eye roll before diving back into their task.

"African sea salt?" Fred asked them quickly.

"Check," replied Lee, and Fred scribbled something in the margin of the textbook.

Winona smiled at them fondly as she fished out a pencil. It was chilly even with the fire burning, and she only found herself a few minutes in before she started to get cold. Without so much as a second thought she lifted Fred's blanket and crawled beneath it, burrowing into the feathery warmth it offered and using her fingertip to smudge the graphite of her work.

Considering it was one of the twins' numerous whacky, harebrained plans, it was actually relatively peaceful in the dorm that night. The twins were murmuring to one another quietly, George obediently stirring the potion as the recipe specified. Lee had had a long day, and he'd passed out already, collapsing to the floor next to his bed, snoring away pleasantly.

The twins had covered him with a blanket, but otherwise couldn't be bothered to move him.

There wasn't really anything Winona could do to be of any help. She was rubbish at potions, and she too was feeling the effects from the excitement of the day. She knew she really should have gone back to her own dorm, but Angelina's cold words kept her away.

Besides, Fred's bed was so soft and warm, and it smelled just like him. Her eyes began to droop shut, and she could feel herself slowly succumbing to sleep.

At some point one of the twins wandered over, and she knew, as she always did, that it was Fred. He gently pulled her sketchbook and pencil from her hands, placing them on his beside table. She was too tired to so much as open her eyes, murmuring vaguely to him with no idea what she was actually saying.

She heard his low chuckle like music to her sleep-fogged brain, and wondered whether she imagined the way his fingertips traced across her face as she dozed. She felt warm and safe and perfectly at home. And she fell asleep easily, thoughts swimming with nothing but of Fred.

* * *

**A/N: Unrelated to this story, but would any of you be interested in a Bucky/OC story set in the Marvel Cinematic Universe? And would anyone be interested in beta reading it and giving me some feedback?**

**I've been working on it for a few weeks now, and already it's very close to my heart. I'd love to know if any of my readers have any interest in that as a pairing/story concept. Let me know!**

**My review highlight this time goes to _inkyvlaudy –_ thanks for your review! It made me so happy to read what you think so far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**


	34. How could you lie to me?

Winona woke up to Fred and George letting out loud _whoops_ of excitement. She sat up from where she'd been dozing in Fred's bed, yawning as she scrubbed at her eyes.

"Shit – sorry, Win," said George, the first to notice her wake.

Fred whirled around, grinning at her widely. "We just finished the potion!"

"Just now?" she asked, voice thick with sleep. "Doesn't it only have a four-hour brew time?"

Lee appeared, having been bent over to dig in his trunk for something or other. "Well, we had to start over more than once," he told her, shooting a pointed glare at Fred, who grinned sheepishly.

"You know potions aren't my strong suit," he argued, and Winona couldn't help but smile.

"So what now, then?" she asked, reluctantly lifting the covers she was wrapped in, pressing her feet to the floor.

"We're gonna get changed out of our jammies and head down to the goblet," Fred told her eagerly.

"Alright, I'll meet you in the common room," she said, lifting her hands above her head as she walked to the door, stretching her back until it popped.

"You're not going to take the potion with us?" Lee called after her.

Winona turned back around, eyebrow cocked. "Why would I do that?"

"So you can enter the Tournament?"

"But I don't _want_ to enter the Tournament," she replied, just as condescending and slow.

Lee looked like he'd been personally offended by her words, and even the twins seemed surprised. "Seriously, Win?" asked George as though waiting for her to change her mind. "_Eternal glory_," he reminded her seriously. "You aren't the least bit tempted?"

"Glory's not my thing," she waved her hand dismissively.

"But a _thousand Galleons_ prize money," said Lee importantly. "Imagine what you could do with that."

And for a split second she _did_ imagine, seeing herself buying a studio space somewhere in London, maybe Diagon Alley, and spending her days painting to her heart's content. But it was an unrealistic fantasy, and she shook her head to clear it.

Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she told them in no uncertain terms, "I think I'd rather just be a cheerleader to one of you tossers, anyway. You'll need all the help you can get, particularly from someone like me."

"Gonna use your _inner eye_ to see the _future_, then?" Lee snorted, loud and derogative.

Winona was used to it, merely rolling her eyes, the words like water off a duck's back. "Something like that," she replied dryly. Fred reached out and slapped Lee upside the head, and Winona shot him a grateful smile. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said, shooting them a halfhearted wave before pushing out into the corridor and making a beeline for her own dorm.

The girls were all already up, pottering around the dorm brushing their hair and getting ready for the day.

Alicia was the first to look up, eyebrows shooting up her face in surprise at seeing her there. "Well, well, well," she said slyly, "look who finally reappeared. Not doing the walk of shame, are we?"

Winona snorted in exasperation. "Please," she scoffed. "I only fell asleep in the boys' dorm."

Angelina was sitting on her bed, feet on the covers as she tied her laces. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, something that didn't go unnoticed by Winona. "That's against the rules, you know," she said, the words layered with disapproval.

Winona glanced back, unimpressed. "I'm well aware," she told her dryly, eyebrow cocked as she tried to figure out why Angelina cared. It wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep in the boys' dorms, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. "What's with the attitude, Ange?"

Angelina hesitated in her answer, and Winona gave her space to figure it out, placing her bag on the end of her bed and digging in her trunk for a pair of relatively clean jeans and a red teeshirt, turning her back on her friends to change.

But Angelina never got her words together. In the end it was Hope who broke the tense quiet. "She's just jealous," she said, the words careless.

"I am not," Angelina argued immediately, but she sounded a little too defensive to be believable. Her friends' silence was enough to tell her what they thought, and she glared at them angrily. "Even if I was, I'd have a right to be. Fred's _my_ boyfriend, not yours," she said sharply.

Winona's features pulled into a frown. "What?" she asked, bewildered by the words. "Ange, Fred's my _best friend_," she said, slow and steady, like she were talking to a child. "I don't _want_ him to be my boyfriend."

"Well, you're certainly not acting like it," Angelina sniffed, committing to her ire.

Now properly dressed, Winona didn't bother slipping on socks, just shoving her bare feet into her sneakers and snatching her bag back up. "Whatever, Ange," she said, aware how condescending she sounded, but wholly uncaring. "Come find me when you've decided to grow up."

Angelina glared at her, but Winona just stomped from the room without even stopping to brush her hair.

The twins and Lee were obediently waiting in the common room, and her irritation must have been obvious on her face, because the first words out of Fred's mouth were, "What happened?"

But she didn't want to go into it, grinding her teeth for a moment before forcing a smile onto her lips and saying, "Just stupid girl stuff. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Fred didn't looked convinced, but it was enough for George and Lee, who were already bounding towards the portrait hole. "Time's a-wasting, Freddie," said his twin eagerly. "Let's do this!"

Fred switched from concerned to eager in the drop of a hat, bounding after the others like Tigger on crack. Winona smiled, finding it didn't come as difficult as she'd expected, and hurried after them.

They ran into Peeves on the way down to the entrance hall, but the twins barely spared the poltergeist a passing glance. Peeves squawked in indignation at being ignored, but there were far more important things to be focusing on.

"Hurry up, Win!" shouted Fred, noticing that Winona was still several steps behind them.

Winona pushed herself faster, bag banging against her hip, sure to leave a bruise. She took the stairs a little more carefully than them, and as soon as the people in the hall saw the twins, they burst into a smattering of excited cheers. The twins did a pre-emptive victory lap, soaking up the school's fanfare.

Winona came to a stop beside Harry, Ron and Hermione, bumping her cousin on the shoulder in silent hello. He smiled at her, but was stopped from saying anything in return as George and Fred appeared in front of them, the latter leaning in to wink at Harry cheerfully. "Done it," he said in a triumphant whisper, eyes alight with the thrill of the mischief. "Just taken it."

"What?" asked Ron dumbly.

"The Ageing Potion, dung brains," Fred retorted with an exasperated roll of his eyes.

"Just one drop each," added George, looking about ready to lay an egg in his excitement. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee interjected giddily, and Winona turned her head enough to share a smirk with Harry.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione, doubt and disapproval warring for pride of place on her face. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this." She suddenly turned to Winona, a disappointed frown on her lips. "And you're condoning this?"

Winona snorted, and even Harry and Ron looked amused. "I helped them brew the potion," she said fearlessly, ignoring the disapproving frown Hermione sent her way.

"She uses the word 'help' very loosely," Fred interjected, a grin on his lips and laughter in his eyes. "She sat in the corner and sketched until she fell asleep on top of her work."

Winona rolled her eyes. "Will you just get this show on the road, already?" she pressed, nudging Fred in the direction of the glowing flames in the goblet.

"Right," said George with a sure nod. "Let's do this."

"Ready?" Fred asked to the other two, so eager he was bouncing on his toes like a lunatic. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

Winona remained beside Harry, watching with amusement and just the slightest hint of concern as Fred strolled confidently up to the age line. It was a thin gold line, seeming to have been drawn onto the stone in a perfect circle around the cup.

Fred walked right up to it, then paused at the edge. Winona rolled her eyes in fond exasperation as he waited until every last eye in the entire entrance hall was on him before stepping dramatically over the line.

Nothing immediately happened, and Winona was genuinely surprised that it had worked. George gave a loud yell of triumph, bounding over the line with him, but barely a full second passed before there was a loud sizzling sound, and both of them were hurled violently back over the age line.

Winona let out a yelp, gripping the strap of her bag and rushing to their sides. Before she could reach them, there was a loud pop and where before there had been clean-shaven skin, the twins now had long white beards sprouting from their faces.

Winona paused in her haste to reach them, eyes wide with shock.

Laughter began to ring out in the hall, growing louder by the second. The twins both sat up from where they'd been sprawled across the stone beneath them, glancing at one another in surprise, only to break out in loud, amused snickers as they caught sight of one another's new facial hair.

"I did warn you," said a deep, familiar voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He looked at Fred and George, his milky blue eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

The crowd kept laughing, and Winona rolled her eyes, crossing the space to the twins and holding out both hands, helping them to their feet.

"Come on then, you ridiculous old men," she said in a playfully prim voice, gripping their arms once they were standing and directing them back towards the stairs. "Let's go get these beards dealt with."

Lee followed after them, struggling to walk in a straight line with how wildly he was laughing. "I dunno, I think I like it," said George as they walked, reaching up to stroke a hand down his new facial hair. "I think it makes me look distinguished. Don't you agree, Fred?"

"Yeah, I quite like it too. Maybe we'll be able to get Rosmerta will sell us some firewhiskey," Fred said eagerly.

Winona rolled her eyes fondly. "Why bother buying it, as opposed to just nicking it like you usually do?"

The twins snapped their fingers at her. "That's why we keep you around, Andrews," said Fred around a grin. "You're the brains of the operation."

Winona just rolled her eyes again, gripping his arm and forcing him to keep walking. The Hospital Wing was empty apart from Summers and Fawcett, just as Dumbledore had said. Madam Pomfrey was hovering over the latter, whose eyes were watering slightly with embarrassment from the beard hanging from her jaw.

"Morning, Poppy," said Fred in a loud, confident voice that made Winona duck her head in exasperation. Madam Pomfrey glanced over, an irritated scowl on her face that merged into frustration when she saw who it was and why they were there.

"More of you?" the healer asked in a dry, unimpressed voice. "Although, considering your track record, I really shouldn't be surprised."

The four friends wandered further into the room, Fred and George each hopping onto a bed along the far wall. Lee and Winona dragged over chairs to sit in between the two beds, laying across their seats haphazardly, like they owned the place.

They were only there for a few minutes, talking animatedly about the pros and cons of growing their own facial hair, before Angelina walked in, a frown on her face.

"Oh, hey Ange!" called Lee loudly, and their friend hurried over to Fred's side.

"Harry told me what happened," she said, a disapproving scowl pulling at her lips. "Not very clever, was it? Of course Dumbledore wouldn't be tricked by an ageing potion."

Fred shrugged, uncaring. "At least it was a laugh," he replied easily, but Angelina didn't smile. Her eyes were on Winona, who had her legs thrown up thoughtlessly onto Fred's bed, her feet in his lap.

"Winona," she said in tense greeting. "Not surprised to find you here." Suddenly feeling keenly unwelcome, Winona awkwardly removed her feet from Fred's bed, placing them firmly on the floor.

"Everything alright?" George asked awkwardly, sensing the sudden frostiness in the room.

"Fine," said Angelina and Winona at the same time, but that just made it all the more unbelievable.

She wanted to ask Angelina again exactly what her problem was, but it was pointless, because really, she already knew.

Angelina was jealous of her relationship with Fred. Winona couldn't help that they were close, and was beginning to feel attacked by Angelina's constant disapproval. It was like she couldn't even say hello to her best friend without Angelina making it into something it wasn't. Because there wasn't any reason to be jealous. There really, _really_ wasn't… Right?

Her thoughts suddenly flew to only the day before; the way her skin had tingled under Fred's touch, and the way her chest had felt full and warm as he held her close, like she were something precious to him. Like she were everything.

"What do you all think you're doing here?" came Madam Pomfrey's voice, sharp and stern. "I'm removing their beards, not treating a life-or-death injury. All of you out – except one, if they insist on support."

Lee pushed himself to his feet, stepping towards the door. "Coming, Ange?" he asked, not realising the awful misstep he'd just taken.

He'd automatically assumed Winona would be the one to stay, like she were more worthy of it than Angelina. She bristled at the words, brows pulled down in a frown, the twins wisely keeping their mouths shut, eyeing the two girls warily. There was an unmistakable glint of challenge in Angelina's eyes. Like the next few moments were some kind of battle, or test.

Swallowing, Winona stood slowly to her feet. "Uh, I'll come with you, Lee," she said, the words stilted and awkward. "I'm starving anyway," she added in an attempt to keep things lighthearted, but could tell nobody was convinced.

From the corner of her eye she saw Angelina take her vacated seat, but resolutely refused to look. Winona swallowed, tossing a halfhearted wave to the twins before scurrying out the door after Lee.

"That was weird," her friend said as they began to amble their way down towards the Great Hall for breakfast. "Want to tell me _why_ that was weird?" he pressed when she didn't speak.

"Love to," she replied, arms crossed over her chest. "But first someone's going to have to tell _me._"

Lee could sense she wanted to change topics, and instead he began to ramble off complaints about his old sneakers, hopping on one foot in an attempt to show her the hole at his toes.

She was listening absently, nodding at all the appropriate times but not really listening to anything he was saying. Her thoughts were a swirl of activity, trying to piece together what was happening between her, Fred and Ange.

There was nothing for Angelina to be jealous _of_; she knew that logically. She and Fred were best mates, nothing more. So what if she was beginning to become aware of Fred's physical appeal? She was only human. And so what if she sometimes got caught up in his bright blue eyes, or became distracted tracing the smattering of freckles on his cheeks, or felt warm at the cadence of his familiar voice or his bright, uninhibited laughter?

"Winnie?" Lee asked, and her eyes snapped to him guiltily, unsurprised that he'd noticed her distraction.

"Uh, I forgot something," she lied fluidly.

Lee blinked in confusion. "What?" he asked, but she was already leaving, walking backwards with an apologetic look pasted onto her face. "I thought you said you were hungry!" he called to her as she got further away.

"I'll see you later!" she called back, spinning on her heel and walking briskly in the opposite direction.

She just wanted to go find a quiet corner and lose herself in smears of colour and the scratch of her pencil against parchment, but something told her that wasn't such a good idea. She'd be sitting in silence, nothing to distract her from the building panic, the sensation threatening to choke her.

She needed a distraction more than anything else. She needed something to take her mind off her terrifying thoughts, plunging her back into familiar territory.

The answer came to her suddenly and she changed her path, turning in the direction of the entrance hall. Groups of students were still clustered around the Goblet of Fire, whispering amongst themselves as every now and again someone would stroll up to it and slip a piece of paper with their name scrawled on it into the flames.

Winona was relieved to find Jeremiah standing against the wall beside his younger brother Theodore, the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, and the ever-scowling Blaise Zabini.

She hesitated nearby, making an effort to look casual as she stared in his general direction. It took a few moments, but finally he caught her eye, his own narrowed in suspicion that turned to satisfaction as she subtly jerked her head at the doorway leading deeper into the castle.

Once she was sure he got the message, Winona turned and wandered into the corridor. She didn't hear his footsteps after her, but she somehow knew he was following.

Making sure nobody was around to see them, she slipped into one of the empty, abandoned classrooms that sat along the first floor, one they'd used plenty of times in the past. She was only waiting maybe a minute before the door creaked open and Jeremiah appeared, shutting it after him and locking it with a flick of his wand.

The pair paused for a brief moment, eyeing one another carefully, before he swooped in and pressed a bruising kiss to Winona's lips. She revelled in the way he gripped her, hard and indelicate. His musky scent invaded her senses, and she stroked her tongue against his as he pressed her back against the wall.

He pulled back once he'd gotten her shirt off, tossing it carelessly to the side. "What's the occasion?" he asked, panting just a little from the lack of oxygen before ducking back down to her throat, raking his teeth against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"I need a distraction," she admitted, untucking his shirt and pulling it up and off so she could drag her fingernails down his back. He pressed against her, growling into her neck, fingers leaving marks against her hips.

"Well, you're in luck," he said, voice husky and deep, and she pressed her chest against his, the fabric of her bra scraping his skin. "I'm excellent at distractions."

"That's what I'm counting on," she replied breathlessly.

She tried to lose herself in Jeremiah's touch, tried to focus on him and him alone. But unbidden flashes of fiery red hair and luminous blue eyes flickered behind her closed lids. Growling with frustration, she yanked Jeremiah's face back up to hers, kissing him with renewed vigour as he blindly worked on their undergarments.

And finally, once he was inside her, she was able to forget about Fred and the lingering sensation of his innocent touches. Jeremiah took her like he owned her, and she lost herself to sensation, coming with Jeremiah's name on her lips.

He pulled away first, barely waiting to catch his breath before he was tugging his clothes back on over his body. "That was the best you've ever been," he told her in what had to be the most fucked-up compliment she was ever likely to receive.

She didn't respond, pulling her jeans back on in a daze.

She'd hoped being with Jeremiah would fix her, make her feel better. But instead it had done the opposite. In the moment it had been distracting, a suitable diversion from her confusing, swirling thoughts, but now that it was over she felt nothing but disgusting and numb.

"See you, Lion," said Jeremiah playfully – almost like they were _friends –_ as he unlocked the door, cracking it open to peer out into the corridor before slipping out himself.

"Yeah," Winona whispered after him weakly, pulling her shirt back on over her bra then curling her arms around her own waist in a poor imitation of a hug. "See you."

* * *

Winona was the first of her friends to arrive at the Great Hall that evening. She eyed the Goblet of Fire where it stood by Dumbledore's empty chair, then took her seat at the Gryffindor table, waiting in silence for the others to reappear.

Alicia, Katie, George and Lee came in as a group, moving immediately to her side once they spotted her there. "Been looking for you," said George, taking his usual place at her side. "Where've you been?"

"Just by the lake," she told him, and it wasn't a lie. After her shameful tryst with Jeremiah, she'd wandered down to a tree by the lake, settling herself in the branches and contenting herself with drawing until the sky began to drizzle. She'd made a dash back to the castle, then went down to the kitchens for a cup of hot chocolate, wasting time in front of the fires down there until it was time for the Halloween feast. "What about you?" she asked, eager to have the focus off of herself.

"Lee and I spent all afternoon on the essay for Flitwick," said Alicia with a groan, "and we're still only about halfway done."

"Oh, I forgot about that," Winona murmured, wincing at the reminder. She'd wasted away the day, not even giving a second thought to the homework she had waiting up in her dorm.

The others didn't seem to sense her distress over the matter, laughing gently at her expense. "Typical Winnie," sang George around an amused grin, and she gave a weak smile in return. "Try not to completely fail the class, yeah?" he added playfully.

Winona rolled her eyes. "I'll do my best," she said, the words lacking their usual sarcasm, but before anyone could pick up on it they were distracted by the appearance of Fred and Angelina, taking their seats opposite Winona and sending the group smiles.

"Where've _you two_ been, then, eh?" asked Lee suggestively.

"None of your business, Jordan," retorted Fred, a frown marring his face. The others picked up on the expression almost immediately.

"Everything okay?" George asked his twin quietly, leaning over the table so he could be heard.

"Yeah," said Fred, "it's nothing."

Winona looked over to unexpectedly meet Fred's eyes. The sight of him sent a thrill through her, one she would deny to her dying breath, and she glanced self-consciously over at Angelina, who was scowling like she'd just drunk a glass of spoiled milk.

Uncomfortable, Winona looked away, turning her attention to the food that had suddenly appeared in front of their faces. She piled mini meat pies onto her plate, relieved when George and Katie sucked her into a conversation about who they thought would be the Hogwarts Champion.

Dinner was a slow affair, and it seemed like an eternity before their plates were finally cleaned of food and Dumbledore was standing to his feet to begin announcing the Champions.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," their Headmaster began, deep voice reverberating around the Great Hall. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he gestured to the door behind the staff table, one through which Winona had never been — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore dimmed the lights, leaving them in a state of semidarkness. It only made the Goblet of Fire that much brighter, and Winona inched forwards on her seat, eager for the show to begin.

"Any second," Lee whispered, excitement clear upon his face.

And he was right. Barely two heartbeats passed before the flames within the magical goblet turned a deep, glowing red. It began to spark, like someone had set off fireworks within, then out shot a tongue of flame, a charred piece of parchment fluttering in the air.

Dumbledore plucked it from the air in surprisingly nimble fingers, clutching it tightly and holding it out so he could properly read it.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

A booming cheer swept the Great Hall, and Winona clapped too, watching with vague curiosity as Krum stood from his place at the Slytherin table and slouched his way up to the staff table and into the chamber beyond.

The cheers and chatter had barely even stopped before another flash of flame darted from the goblet, a second strip of parchment fluttering towards Dumbledore's outstretched hand.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

The beautiful Beauxbatons girl from the night before stood and gracefully made her way into the chamber after Krum.

Silence settled over the Hall, the entire school in knots of hope and anxiety, waiting to see who their Champion would be. Despite the strange new tension between herself and Angelina, Winona sincerely hoped her friend was called. She deserved it, and Winona knew that if it was her, she'd have been able to handle whatever the Tournament threw at her.

With a flash of red, the final piece of parchment was thrust from the flames, and Dumbledore plucked it from the air, holding it out and proclaiming in a loud, supportive voice that, "the Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"

The cheers from the Hufflepuff table were so loud that Winona began to get a headache. Cedric Diggory smiled charmingly from where he stood, walking to the staff table and disappearing out after the other chosen two.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed after a long few minutes of nothing but the Hufflepuff's tumultuous cheers. But Winona was distracted, her extra senses prickling with breathless urgency. She gasped, the sound quiet but carrying to George, who sat close on her left.

"Win?" he whispered, and without thinking she reached for him, gripping his arm tightly.

"Well, we now have our three champions," Dumbledore was saying from the podium, but to Winona's ears it might as well have been pure gibberish. "I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"

Dumbledore cut himself off suddenly, and there was no question as to why. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again, and with a bright shower of sparks it spat out a final piece of charred, ripped parchment.

If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see the future possibilities spread out before her like a map; but they were fuzzy and out of focus, like she were viewing it through foggy lenses. From somewhere in the back of her mind she could hear the sound of a dragon roaring and wondered what _that_ had to do with anything.

"No," she whispered, just _knowing_ what Dumbledore was going to say. She could see it now, and was angry at herself for not seeing it sooner, for not _preventing_ it. She'd been so caught up in her own problems, too distracted by her own drama. She hadn't been _looking._ "No," she said again, the word sharp and forceful, like if she was stern enough the reality of the situation might change.

"Win?" Fred whispered urgently from across the table, but she didn't look away from Dumbledore. And when he spoke, Winona was the least surprised person in the entire Hall.

"_Harry Potter_."

Winona turned to look at Harry, pulse beating in her ears. He was utterly stunned, eyes wide and full of pure, unadulterated confusion. Nobody clapped, but everybody began to whisper, the low buzz of noise growing in the Great Hall like an oncoming tsunami.

"I didn't put my name in," said Harry weakly, his voice only just carrying to where Winona sat, full of trepidation. "You know I didn't."

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. Winona began to rise from her seat. She wasn't going to just let Harry walk up there alone, wasn't going to let this – whatever _this_ was – just happen.

But George's hand gripped her own, forcefully tugging her back down beside him. Harry met her eyes as he passed and gave just the faintest shake of his head, silently telling her to stay put. Her every instinct told her to follow him, to put a stop to whatever was happening, but she could feel the control slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

Harry disappeared into the next chamber, and there was a moment of quiet, only a few whispers filling the Hall. Then Dumbledore calmly bid them all a brisk goodnight and left the room, a majority of the teachers following him into the chamber the four champions had entered.

The moment they were gone, the entire Hall was in an uproar. The Gryffindors were tied between being thrilled one of their own was in the Tournament and furious that Harry had somehow hoodwinked the Goblet and entered even though he was underage.

"How'd he do it, though?" George was asking anyone who would listen.

"At least we've got a Gryffindor in the running, now," said Angelina eagerly.

"Coming, Win?" asked Fred, the only one to have noticed that Winona hadn't stood up with the rest of them. She remained in her seat, staring at the table in front of her blankly.

"I'm gonna wait here for Harry," she told him distractedly.

"Come up to the common room, Win," said George enticingly. "Party's on us."

"The party's always on you," she replied.

She could feel the twins doing their telepathy-thing above her head, but she didn't care, spinning in her seat to set her eyes on the door to the side chamber where Harry was awaiting his fate. "Want us to wait with you?" George finally asked as only a few stragglers remained in the Hall.

"No, don't be stupid," she replied, stare never leaving the room at the top of the Hall, even as she batted them away with her hand. "Go, start the celebrations. We'll meet you up there."

And they listened, leaving her alone and staring up at the door with such concentration it was like she were trying to make Harry materialise there.

She was waiting awhile, at least twenty minutes passed before there was any movement at all. The first people to appear were Madame Maxime and the Delacour girl, speaking in rapid-fire French as they walked from the Hall without so much as a glance at the lone Gryffindor girl in the room.

Next were Karkaroff and Krum, both of them striding out without saying a word, although Krum sent her a curious look as he passed, obviously wondering what she was still doing there.

Finally the one person she wanted to see was walking through the doors. Winona saw Diggory was with him. They weren't speaking to one another, but at the same time she didn't sense any animosity.

"Winnie," breathed Harry upon seeing her sat there, the only person in the whole school to wait for him. His shoulders were hunched with the stress of the evening.

Winona stood to her feet, hurrying to his side and joining them in the walk towards the entrance hall. "So, tell me – just between us," said Diggory as they walked. "How did you get your name in?"

"I didn't," replied Harry without pause. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Ah…okay," murmured Diggory in the voice of someone maybe humouring a small child.

"If he says he didn't do it, then he didn't do it," Winona snapped at Diggory, hands balled into tight fists at her sides.

Diggory looked surprised by the strength of her reaction, and he quickly held up his hands in surrender. "Yeah, of course," he said, but she could tell he was just keeping the peace. Typical Hufflepuff. There was a beat of awkward silence as they came to a stop in the entrance hall."Well, see you, then," Diggory said to Harry stiltedly. Her cousin gave a vague nod of his head, and Diggory wandered in the general direction of the Hufflepuff common room.

By silent agreement, Harry and Winona stood perfectly still, listening to the sounds of Diggory's footsteps as they eventually petered off before disappearing into nothing all together.

Once she was sure they were alone, Winona turned to her cousin, gathering him up in her biggest hug to date. Harry gripped her back, holding tightly as he soaked up her unwavering support.

"I didn't do it, Winnie," he told her, the words spoken into her shoulder. She noted distantly that he was the same height as her now, and held him that little bit tighter. "I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire," he swore, voice shaking just a tad, which she knew to be from fear. Fear she wouldn't believe him.

"I know," she promised, soothing a hand down his shaggy black hair before pulling out of the hug and gently gripping his shoulders. "Hey, I know this wasn't you," she said again, making sure he understood how sincere she was being. "Anyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot who doesn't know you from a bar of soap," she told him with a half-smirk that he did his best to return, failing miserably.

He just looked tired, she found. The type of tired that left rings under your eyes, and made your whole face droop towards the ground. He was far too young to be looking so exhausted, but then again, so was she.

"Come on, Boy-Wonder," she said, folding her arm around his shoulders and gently leading him in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. "The twins have a party already going," she told him apologetically. "But if you just wanna escape up to bed, I'll handle it."

"Thanks," he said, his voice so small and sad. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Winona still squeezing him tightly, a gentle reminder that she was still there, and that she was never going to leave. "You didn't see this happening?" Harry asked abruptly, and Winona was so surprised by the question that she pulled back, staring at him in shock.

"Of course not," she promised, then frowned guiltily. "I don't know why I didn't… I'm sorry, Harry. If I'd just _seen _it––"

"Moody said someone must have entered me on purpose," he said quietly, expression pulled down in thought. He wasn't mad at her, not like she was at herself. "He said that they would have had to have been really powerful, and that they might have done it because…they want me dead."

"That's not gonna happen, Harry," she told him, no hint of uncertainty in her tone. "Nothing's going to happen to you," she promised him. Because she wouldn't let it. She'd die before anything evil so much as _touched_ Harry.

She'd spent her whole childhood as an orphan, her whole life thinking she was alone, that it was just her against the entire, cruel world. And then she meets this kid, small and a complete trouble magnet, and suddenly she has a_ family._ She has a cousin, and a father. And she's not alone anymore. Now she has people to care for, and be cared for by.

She could tell Harry wasn't so sure he believed her, that he wasn't in any danger, and to be honest, it wasn't something she could actually promise – and they both knew it. Well-meaning as they were, the words were empty.

"I'll keep an eye out," she added meaningfully. He nodded, knowing she didn't mean just on the physical plane. "You're not going through this Tournament alone, you hear?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know."

But she wasn't so sure he did.

The Fat Lady wasn't alone in her frame. An older, streaky looking witch was perched beside her, and the both of them were staring down at Harry keenly.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady slyly, "Violet's just told me everything. You've just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" cried the unfamiliar witch, offended.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," the Fat Lady told her soothingly, then reluctantly opened the portrait hole for the cousins to climb through. The moment the door was opened the pair were hit with a tsunami of noise, so loud it nearly threw them backwards.

Hands gripped them, and Winona quickly thrust out a hand, gripping hold of Harry's shirt, stubbornly refusing to let go. She'd sworn to get him up the stairs to bed, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred as he appeared in front of them, eyes alight with excitement and maybe a touch of firewhiskey.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George, materialising beside his twin.

"I didn't," Harry tried to tell them, but his protests were swallowed by the crowd. "I don't know how-"

Angelina appeared, gripping Harry's shoulders, a crazed glint to her dark eyes. "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor-" she was babbling happily.

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" added Katie in something of a shriek.

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some-" said George eagerly.

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast-" Harry tried to say, but Winona knew it was time to step in.

"Alright, boys and girls! The Champion needs a good night's rest!" she shouted to the gathered crowd, and they all gave childish groans of disappointment.

"You suck, Andrews!" shouted a voice from the back of the crowd.

"Only in your dreams, Larsen!" she shouted back without batting an eyelid, and the seventh year sat back down meekly. "Go now, while you still can," she muttered to Harry, who sent her a smile thick with gratitude before escaping up the stairs as the others were distracted.

The party continued on even in Harry's absence, but Winona wasn't in the mood. Her mind was swirling with her worries over Harry, her doubt on whether or not Moody was right. Was someone out to kill Harry? _Again_? Couldn't the kid catch a damn break?

She decided to head back up to her dorm to sketch and try and get her mind off of her concerns, and was just on the first step of the stairs when a hand gripped her arm. She spun around, hardly surprised to find Fred grinning back at her. She noted idly that with her on the step, they were the same height, and tried not to analyse why that made her heart race.

"You're not staying?" he asked over the music filling every nook and cranny of the common room.

"Not in the mood to party," she shrugged.

"We managed to scrounge up some firewhiskey…" he sang enticingly.

She smiled, rolling her eyes fondly. "The last thing I need right now is alcohol," she told him flatly.

He pouted dramatically, but it only made her smile. "Suit yourself," he said with a heavy sigh, and she escaped back up to her dorm, relieved to find it empty of everyone except Hope, who was already crashed out on her bed.

She didn't want to have to deal with the lingering tension that for some reason remained between herself and Angelina. She just wanted to curl up in her bed and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

She'd just changed into her pyjamas when there was a tentative knock at the door. Moving over to it so as to not wake Hope, Winona pulled it open, glancing at the person beyond.

Hermione stood with a frown on her face, her untameable hair even more wild than usual. Winona slipped from the room, gently closing the door after her. "Hope's a light sleeper," she explained over the noise of the party still in full-force downstairs. If she listened closely enough, she thought she could hear the sounds of the twins trying to set up a game of limbo. "What's up?" she asked Hermione clearly.

"Have you seen Harry?" the fourth-year asked, hands twisted together anxiously. "I wanted to stay with him, but Ron wanted to come back up here, and I didn't know how long he'd be…"

"I walked back up with him," Winona told her. "He's okay, but..." she hesitated, not wanting to say more, but Hermione's earnest expression urged her on, "but I'm worried he won't be for long."

"You think he's in danger?" Hermione asked shortly, lips pressed together in concern.

"I think that while the Gryffindors are impressed, the rest of the school's gonna have it out for him," she admitted quietly. "He's gonna need you and Ron more than ever." At the mention of Ron, Hermione's eyes flickered away. "What?" Winona asked, suddenly tense.

Whatever is was, Hermione seemed reluctant to tell her. But Winona narrowed her eyes into a glare until the younger student broke and gave in. "It's just that, well, Ron's not really taking this whole thing very well," she revealed uncomfortably.

"Not taking _what_ very well?"

"Harry being named the fourth Champion."

"What's not to take well?" Winona asked, admittedly a little sharper than intended, and Hermione winced.

"From what I've gathered so far…" she began slowly, "he's just a little jealous."

And suddenly Winona knew what she meant. Harry was always the one in the spotlight, and on top of that, Ron had five brothers. Of course this would grind his gears more than anything else. But even so, despite understanding, Winona's loyalty was to Harry – not Ron.

"I understand. Really, I do," she said, voice thankfully holding steady. "But the last thing Harry needs right now is for his best friend to have him on the outs over something he couldn't even control."

"I know," Hermione said, reaching up to tug at a wild ringlet of hair, yanking at it in her anxiety. "I know," she repeated, brow furrowed like she were already working on problem solving.

"Look, go get some rest," Winona told her, feeling a flare of pity for the girl who she got the feeling was about to become the meat in a very uncomfortable sandwich. "Just promise me you'll be there for Harry in the morning."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, her eyes shining with sincerity. Winona could suddenly see exactly how much Harry meant to Hermione. He was her best friend in the world, something that was easily overlooked in the presence of Ron.

"Alright," she smiled, the expression as genuine as it was tired and drawn. "Get some sleep," she prompted her again, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder companionably. "See you tomorrow, 'Mione."

Hermione smiled back, nodding in agreement as she turned to head back down the corridor to her own dorm. Winona watched her go a moment, thinking idly that Harry didn't know how lucky he was to have a friend like Hermione, before shaking her head to clear it and heading back inside her dorm, making a beeline for her bed and burrowing under her covers with a sigh of satisfaction.

The next day, Winona considered waiting for Harry in the common room, but the last thing she wanted was for him to think her overbearing, so instead she reminded herself that Harry was a big boy and he could walk down to breakfast on his own.

Most of her friends were already down in the Great Hall to eat, with the exception of Angelina. "Ange wanted to get a head start on her Potions essay," Katie explained, voice raised just slightly to be heard over the twins' rambunctious shouts across from them. They were debating with Lee over their hypothetical band name. Winona wisely didn't mention that none of them could actually play an instrument.

And so breakfast passed quickly, Winona spending most of it eyeing the door, keeping an eye out for Harry. He never came into the Hall, but neither did Hermione, and she knew that as long as he wasn't alone, then he was alright.

That Sunday was a relatively quiet one for herself and the twins. Their other friends all went down to the Pitch to play a few rounds of Quidditch, but Fred and George were eager to spend some time perfecting their inventions while Winona reluctantly admitted she had to get started on the homework she'd been neglecting.

They broke often to joke, or rest their eyes, but mostly they did the responsible thing and worked.

It was nearing dinnertime when a tapping at the window caught their attention. The three friends glanced to the glass to find a tawny owl hovering outside the tower. Winona was the first to her feet, moving over and gently prying open the window, taking the letter from the owl and watching as it took off back into the sky, in the direction of the owlery.

Glancing down at the letter she was holding, Winona was only mildly surprised when she found it addressed to her. Her first thought was Dumbledore, but the handwriting of her name didn't fit, too sharp, not whimsical enough to be the Headmaster.

She leaned against the wall, peeling it open and fishing out the note within.

_Lion,_

_Twenty minutes. The tapestry. You know which one._

_Snake_

Staring down at it in surprise, Winona felt her cheeks grow a little warm. "Who's that from, then?" Fred asked loudly from his place sprawled on the rug by the fire. She glanced up form the note to see both twins staring back at her expectantly.

"Who do you think?" she asked coyly, disguising the fact that it wasn't actually an answer.

They lost interest, most likely assuming it were Dumbledore or Trelawney, and she let out a faint sigh of relief.

She leant down, swiping her thick woollen jumper from the floor and pulling it on over her plain teeshirt. Distractedly she began to run her fingers through her loose hair, hoping to make herself look like less of a slob.

George had gone back to his inventing, scribbling something down in the margin of the book he was holding as he muttered to himself about sprigs of hemlock and the water-to-caster-oil ratio. Fred, on the other hand, was eyeing her critically.

"What?" she asked, a little self-conscious as she wiped at her face, just to be safe.

"Wanting to look nice for good ol' Dumbledore, are we?" he asked, a strange hitch to his voice.

"Well, I can't very well roam the castle looking like a feral cat now, can I?" she countered. Fred didn't look convinced, but she wasn't worried. He was probably just being difficult for the hell of it. "I'll be back later," she told them, quickly making sure her shoes were tied before heading for the portrait hole.

Jeremiah was already behind the tapestry when she got there. He was leaning against the wall looking positively sinful in his dark robes, the colour making his eyes seem to smoulder.

"You're early," he purred as she stepped closer, not hesitating to melt into him. "Someone's eager," he chuckled before catching her in a bruising kiss, all tongues and teeth and pure, unadulterated desire.

There was no affection there; no warmth or love. Winona knew that, but his skin was hot against hers, and if she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could just imagine that he wanted her for more than just her body.

"We're not even using classrooms, now?" she breathed once he released her mouth, kissing his way down the column of her throat. "Just a tapestry?"

"The danger's kind of exciting though, isn't it?" he asked, pausing to nibble on her ear before gripping the hem of her jumper and pulling it up and over her head. It crumpled to the floor, and he held her chest tightly to his, pressing their lips together once more.

She was distracted, so caught up in the feel of him against her that she didn't hear the sound of footsteps by the tapestry. All she knew was, one moment everything was hot and dark, and in the next the tapestry was thrown back, light shining on their intertwined bodies, revealing their forbidden encounter.

Winona gasped, pulling back and blinking as she struggled to adjust to the sudden light, but once she saw who had found them, she desperately wished she hadn't.

Fred and George stood before her, the Marauder's Map held in George's hand, leaving no questions as to exactly what had happened. George was gaping, eyes wide and shocked, while Fred's expression, on the other hand, was downright _livid._

Everyone stared at everyone else, none of them seeming to know what to say. Fred was the first to act.

"You son of a _bitch_!" he roared abruptly, reaching into the alcove and gripping Jeremiah by the front of his robes, yanking him out into the corridor with a strength Winona hadn't known he'd possessed. "How _dare_ you touch her!"

He rammed him up against the wall, and Winona gasped, ducking down to get her discarded jumper, sloppily yanking it over her head before rushing out into the corridor after them. Fred looked about ready to slam the Slytherin through pure stone, blue eyes seeming to glow with fury.

"Fred! Fred – let him go!" she yelled, leaping between them and pressing a hand against her best friend's chest. She'd never in her life seen him look so furious – like he wanted to reaching down Jeremiah's throat and yank his spine from his body.

"You think you can just – just _force_ her to––" he was shouting, and she shoved harder against his chest, forcing him back a step.

"Stop it!" she shouted back at him, her voice shrill from panic. "Fred, calm down!" she hissed when his nostrils flared with rage. She understood, suddenly. He wasn't mad simply because of what he'd seen – he was mad because he thought it wasn't consensual. "I wasn't doing anything I didn't want to do, Fred," she told him, voice steady and sure.

Jeremiah stepped away from the wall, straightening his robes with a flick of his wrists, a wide, smug smirk on his face, eyes glinting proudly. It was the first time Winona had looked at him and thought he looked unattractive.

Fred's eyes flickered down to Winona, and she met his stare with a reproachful one of her own. She couldn't have possibly named the emotions swimming in his gaze. He was angry, but it went beyond that. Hurt? Betrayal? _Why_?

"I think you should go, Jeremiah," she said, slow and deliberate.

"_I'm_ the one who has to leave?" he asked from behind her, his voice cold.

"Please just go," she begged him without looking away from Fred.

She heard Jeremiah's jaw click behind her, then his footsteps hitting the floor as he stormed off down the corridor. Winona didn't move her eyes from Fred's, the pair locked in a strange, inexplicable battle of wills, neither willing to be the one to concede.

Finally the sound of Jeremiah's footsteps dissipated, leaving them in a silence that rang with tension.

In the end, Fred was the one to break their stare, giving a sudden scoff and turning away. Winona glanced over at George, who was glancing between them both warily, not seeming to know how to react.

"Jeremiah Nott?" Fred finally spoke, pacing away from her before spinning around to pin her with a judgemental stare. "Really, Winona? _Jeremiah Nott_?"

"Look, I know you're confused––" she began quickly.

"How long?" he snapped, not letting her finish. Winona's teeth clicked together as she shut her mouth, and she clenched her jaw until it hurt, heart pounding so loud she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. "How long, Winona?" he barked, more furious than she'd ever seen.

She didn't want to tell him, suddenly full of a shame that burned bright and painful in her chest. She pressed her lips together, looking away to collect herself. "Since Christmas," she confessed, her voice lacking its usual strength.

She didn't look up at Fred, too afraid of what she might find. "So, what? You've been lying to us for nearly a _year_?" he asked, and she felt humiliation add to her panic as her eyes began to burn with tears. "Merlin, do you _love_ him?" he pressed, spitting the word like it were dirty.

She ground her teeth together some more, throat tight as she struggled to form words. "I don't know," she admitted hoarsely.

"How can you _not know_?" he spat, and she looked up to see him gripping at his deep red hair, tugging it from the stress. "You either love him, or you don't."

"It's not that simple," she insisted weakly.

Fred stared back, eyes like a dragon's, glinting with a fiery fury that threatened to consume her. "Explain it, then," he said, the words like ice.

"What do you want me to say, Fred?" she demanded shrilly, gritting her teeth when her lip began to wobble traitorously. "I don't know if I love him, because I don't know what love _is_!" she said, fuelled by a passion, a sudden nerve she hadn't had before. "I don't know _how_ to love someone, okay? I don't even know what it _means_!"

"That's bullshit," he spat abruptly. "Are you really playing the orphan card right now? It's pathetic, Winona."

She flinched away as though she'd been struck, eyes watering enough that her vision began to blur. "Fred, come on," said George reproachfully, and Winona brought her own arms up around her middle, giving herself a sad imitation of a comforting hug. "We should just calm down. We don't wanna say something we don't mean…"

"How could you lie to us?" Fred barrelled on, heedless of his brother's warning. "How could you lie to _me_?"

"You don't need to know every single little detail about my life," she hissed.

"This isn't _little_!"

"It just wasn't any of your business, Fred," she snapped. "You don't get to control who I date."

"Date?" he echoed, utterly incredulous. "That didn't look like a _date_ to me. He's only using you for your body!"

"You don't know anything about us," she bit back, voice cool and dark.

"I know enough," he spat. "And like I said, it's pathetic. _You're_ pathetic."

He was lashing out, she knew, but his words were so sharp and hurtful that they seemed to stab her heart where it sat inside her chest. His eyes were dark and gleaming with betrayal, glaring at her in something she could only call hurt.

Her eyes stung, and she sniffled quietly, turning away to try and hide her tears. "You don't have to be cruel," she said, her voice lacking volume.

But Fred's frosty demeanour didn't even melt at the sight of her wet eyes. "And you don't have to whore yourself out to the first guy to pay you a lick of attention, but here we are," he snapped back, and Winona sucked in a sharp, pained breath.

"Fred," said George, low and reproachful.

"It's fine, George," Winona insisted, tilting her chin up in an attempt to hold onto what little dignity she had left. "It's fine," she said again, but her voice wobbled. She couldn't look at Fred's furious, pained eyes any longer, and turned away before a sob could escape her lips.

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, letting her legs carry her far, far away from the twin whose venomous words had cut to her core. And she wanted to never forgive him. She wanted to be angry at him for all her life. But she knew the truth.

Who could she blame for this but herself?

* * *

**A/N: It finally happened, one less secret to hide. Things seems bleak now, but stick with me – and for those of you wondering, Jeremiah's storyline is pretty much wrapping up. A little more closure to be had, but things are going to start slowly taking a turn for the better. Thanks for sticking with me this far! I know the Jeremiah stuff was hard to handle, but this is the story I wanted to tell; Winona's character growth, learning what it means to love and be loved.**

**Also, don't be too mad at Fred, we all say things we don't mean when we're hurt, and he'll redeem himself in time.**

**Review of the week goes to _Nicole Starling_ – your review made me squeal in the best possible way. Every time you review any of my stories, it's always some of the best feedback I get. You're honestly the best, and I hope you enjoyed this one. Lots of drama, but don't worry, there is fluff on its way!**


	35. We all have secrets

**A/N: Hey guys – the response last chapter was crazy. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and I've been on an editing spree the last few days so I figured I'd treat you all and throw up another chapter, since I already have it ready. **

**Thanks to those of you who mentioned being interested in my Bucky/OC story, and even more to those willing to beta read it and give me some feedback! I've sent private messages following up with a few of you, so keep an eye out for those, and I hope we can work together soon! **

**More notes at the bottom of this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Apparently the world didn't stop turning just because it felt like your whole life had been blown to pieces. Everyone went back to classes that next day, unbothered, but Winona wandered through the halls, listless and aimless, like one of the ghosts.

Fred wasn't speaking to her – he wouldn't even so much as _look_ at her – and although George wasn't ignoring her, he was distant. She couldn't blame him; he was torn between his best friend and his twin brother. It wasn't an easy position to be in, and she certainly didn't envy him of it.

She noticed things between the two of them didn't look easy, either. Winona would catch them having hissed arguments unlike any she'd ever seen them have before. Days passed, and she realised she hadn't seen them genuinely laugh, or even prank anyone, since the incident. And damn if that didn't make her feel like dragon dung.

She had to count her blessings, however. Despite Fred's hurt, he hadn't seemed to have told anyone what he'd seen. The entire school, and all her friends, never said so much as a word about Jeremiah. She wondered why Fred wouldn't blab her secret to the whole world – he surely seemed bitter enough to do so, if the words he's spat in anger were anything to go by.

Lee, Alicia, Angelina and Katie were all incredibly confused as to why she and Fred were no longer on speaking terms, but to their irritation neither Fred, nor she or George, would tell them anything.

And so life went on and Winona suffered in silence. The days passed by and she spent most of her time with Alicia and Katie. Angelina seemed to be glued to Fred's side these days, and despite not having a clue what was going on, Lee stuck close to George's side, seeming to sense it was the safest option in the grand scheme of things.

She wanted to talk to someone about what had happened, but Jeremiah was ignoring her, refusing to meet her eye in the Great Hall, or even in classes. She knew the person she wanted to speak to most was Harry, but her poor cousin was already so slammed by ire and teasing from the rest of the school over the Tournament, that she didn't want to add to his distress.

It was a whole week after the horrible incident that Harry finally seemed to notice something wasn't quite right.

They were at dinner in the Great Hall, and Winona was sat with only Ginny, the rest of her friends all chatting loudly from further down the table. When she glanced up, it was to find Angelina and Fred in an unnecessarily graphic snog.

She tried to listen as Ginny spoke about how much she wished Quidditch wasn't cancelled for the year, but mostly she just toyed with her food, staring forlornly into her mash potatoes.

To her surprise, somebody took the open seat in front of her, and both girls looked up to see Harry sitting opposite them, a weary look on his face that made Winona's heart hurt. "Hey, Ginny," he greeted the youngest Weasley politely, before his eyes slid over to his cousin. "Winnie, can we talk?"

Winona turned to Ginny. "Mind giving us a minute, Gin?"

Ginny quickly nodded her head. "I'll go see what Luna's been up to," she said, shooting Harry a shy smile before moving across the aisle to the Ravenclaw table.

"How're you doing?" Winona asked her cousin once Ginny was out of earshot. Thankfully the people on either side of them were engaged in lively conversations, and for once, nobody seemed to be paying the Boy-Who-Lived any extra attention.

"Rubbish. You?"

"Rubbish," she parroted with a sigh.

"Why aren't you sitting with your friends?" he asked quietly, casting her friends a glance. They were laughing uproariously at something someone had said, and Winona wondered whether anyone else could see how the twins' laughter was too forced to be real.

"You know how you and Ron aren't talking?" she asked pointedly, pushing away her plate, suddenly uninterested in the food. "It's pretty much like that."

"They think you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, too?" Harry asked, the words playful, but his voice anything but.

Winona narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. She kicked out her foot, striking him in the shin. "You think you're _so_ funny," she sniped. Harry smiled, but she could tell it was strained.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked after a moment, keeping his voice low. He was sweet like that, sensitive even when he wasn't sure why it was necessary.

"It's not important," she said with a dismissive shrug.

The look he sent her was dry. "I beg to differ."

Pausing, Winona chewed carefully on her next words. "They caught me with a Slytherin," she finally said, knowing she couldn't lie. Not to Harry.

Her cousin's expression scrunching with confusion. "When you say _with_ a Slytherin…?"

"I mean _with_ a Slytherin," she confirmed around a grimace that was full of self-loathing. Harry looked about ready to gag, realising what she meant. She winced apologetically.

"Right then," he murmured, struggling to come to terms with what she'd just told him. "Who?"

Again, the truth was her only option. She didn't want to hide anything from Harry, and there was no reason to. If anyone was going to be on her side, it would be him. Right? "Nott," she admitted, voice barely loud enough to hear. She kept her eyes on her plate, afraid to see the judgement in her cousin's eyes.

Harry choked. "Theodore Nott?!" he asked loudly. She kicked him again underneath the table. "Sorry," he whispered with a wince.

"If you really must know, it was his brother, Jeremiah," she hissed, utterly ashamed to admit it. Even saying his name made her feel dirty, and she hated herself just a little bit more.

"But…_why_?" Harry asked, genuinely confused, as though he couldn't possibly understand why she would want to kiss a Slytherin, let alone shag one.

Winona's nose scrunched. "I happen to like him," she said, even though by this point, she was beginning to doubt even that.

"Really?" Harry asked, sounding just as doubtful. Was it just the fact Jeremiah was a Slytherin, or did he really know her well enough to know she was so deep in this, she'd begun to lie to _herself_?

Defensive all the same, Winona's eyes narrowed. "Are you just gonna criticise me?"

Harry seemed to see his error. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "Why're they mad at you for it, though? Surely they don't care who you're…_with_," he finished, looking about as comfortable saying it as a fish did riding a bicycle.

"Well, it's been going on awhile now," she admitted, drawing nonsense patterns on the tabletop with her fingertip. "I think they're upset that I've been lying to them about it."

Harry was frowning. "How is it we've both managed to lose our best friends within the same week?" he asked, glancing up at the fake clouds above their heads as though expecting an answer to drop from the enchanted sky.

Winona's nose scrunched again. "You're not mad at me?"

He looked back at her in surprise. "No. I think it's disgusting, but then again, you're my cousin – I'd think it was disgusting no matter what House they were in."

Winona smiled, feeling her spirits lift just a little bit. "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you more over the last week," she told him, guilt flooding her insides. She'd meant to be, she really had – but she'd been so caught up in her own drama that it had fallen to the back-burner. Winona's self-hatred doubled.

"It's okay, you've clearly been going through a lot," he assured her. "Besides, I've had Hermione."

"Still," she said sadly, but Harry was happy to move on.

"I had the Wand Weighing ceremony just now," he told her. "I just got back. It was awful. Rita Skeeter insisted on interviewing me. Her Quick-Quotes Quill kept writing that I was crying."

"Rita Skeeter is a plague on wizarding kind," Winona said without so much as a beat of hesitation.

"What's she done to you?" he asked, surprised by her vehement response.

"Nothing," she told him. "But I've read her articles. They're nothing but gossipy trash."

"Yeah, I got that feeling," Harry muttered.

"Did you have to do a photoshoot, too?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Winona smirked, reaching over the table and playfully ruffling his wild hair. "Your hair's all pushed back," she told him with a weak flicker of amusement. He batted away her hand, reaching up to fix his unruly hair himself. She laughed, feeling a little warmer than she had a few minutes ago.

Feeling the familiar weight of eyes on her face, Winona turned to her left, unintentionally locking eyes with Fred, who had been staring at her as she laughed. The moment their eyes met he winced and turned away, rejoining the conversation around him with forced vigour that made Winona's heart ache.

Harry and Winona made their way up to the Tower together, talking idly about the Summoning Charm he was struggling with in class. Winona wasn't much help, she'd always struggled with it too.

They parted at the common room, Harry heading straight up to the dorms while Winona took a seat by the window, pulling out her sketchbook and beginning to work on a rough charcoal drawing of Harry.

She wasn't disturbed for a while, but soon enough she felt someone standing over her, and looked up to see it was Harry again. He was holding out a letter.

Excitement flared in her chest, and she swiped the envelope from his hand, peering down at her name written across the front in sharp, cursive letters. "Sirius?" she asked Harry, even though she already knew.

Her cousin nodded. "Just got one, too," he told her quietly, holding up an envelope with his name written across the front in Sirius' angled script. He took a seat on the chair beside her, and she was filled with a rush of affection at the fact that he'd waited to give her hers before opening his own.

Winona made quick work of the envelope, tearing it open and eagerly staring down at the note from her father.

_Winona,_

_Can you and Harry get the common room to yourselves at exactly one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? I need to talk with you both, face-to-face._

_There's a lot I want to say, but can't in a letter. I look forward to hearing your voice again. If anything unusual happens, to either you or to Harry, let me know._

_I'll see you soon, Winona._

_All my love,_

_-Sirius_

He wasn't signing as 'Dad', but part of her was glad. They'd only met briefly, after all, and all their bonding so far had been through the written word. She wanted to see his face again, hear his voice just as much as he wanted to hear hers.

Why did life have to be so unfair? She might have gained a father, but he was on the run from the Ministry, unreachable but by owl. She wanted to know what a hug might feel like, from a parent. It wasn't something she could remember ever experiencing; being safe in a parent's arms.

"So we'll stay up together on the night of the 22nd, then?" Harry whispered, and she looked away from the letter to nod to him.

"We'll meet here after dinner," she agreed. It was still two weeks away, but she found herself excited for it.

It helped keep her spirits up over the next fortnight, which was just long days of tense conversation with her friends.

None of them except the twins knew what had happened, but their friends were stuck awkwardly floating between them and Winona, unsure where to step. She felt bad, but at the same time she wasn't about to come clean and tell them everything. They probably wouldn't be as mad as Fred – not that she was even really that sure why he was so mad in the first place – but they wouldn't let it go, either. She'd rather keep them in the dark for as long as she could, telling herself it was for the best.

The following Sunday, Winona found herself down by the lake with Harry and Hermione, all of them working on their homework in the rare Scottish sunshine.

The two fourth years were busy practising Summoning Charms while Winona was painstakingly bullshitting her essay on the theory behind turning vinegar into wine.

Harry and Winona engaged in light conversation every now again, but were always eventually shushed by Hermione, who berated them for getting distracted.

Winona was considering hitting her with a silencing spell – just for a laugh – when a vision hit her head on.

She gave a loud gasp and hurried to tug her drawing materials out of her bag. "Winnie?" asked Harry in alarm, watching as she spilled the contents of her pencil case onto the grass in her haste.

"Vision," she said, managing to just get the word out before suddenly the light of the sunny day shuttered away, replaced by an endless, inky black.

The roar of a beast sounded loud and deafening in her ears, so strong that her very skeleton seemed to vibrate with the force of it. She felt flames on her face, scolding hot, and her skin almost seemed to sizzle under its heat. There were screams and cheers from all around her, thunderous in volume, and she could see flashes of scaly orange and flaming crimson. It was everywhere, all at once, and there was something coming for her, something hungry and angry, it wanted to kill – no, to protect. Protect what? Everything was so loud, and bright, smoke was filling her lungs, she couldn't breathe––

"Winona?!"

She came to with a shuddering gasp. Out of instinct she threw her sketch against her chest, hiding its secrets from sight. Blinking back to herself, she saw the sunlight streaming down through the leaves of the tree they lay beneath, and Harry and Hermione's concerned faces staring back at her.

"Winnie, are you okay?" Harry was asking, and she realised his hands were curled around her shoulders, holding tight as though trying to anchor her to the present.

"Yeah," she said, but her throat felt raw. She could still taste the smoke on her tongue.

"That was a powerful one," he said mildly, shifting back, giving her room to breathe.

"You're telling me," she muttered, fingers curling around the edges of her sketchbook.

Neither of them asked what she'd seen, even though she could see the curiosity burning in their eyes. She loved them all the more for it.

"What's it like?" asked Hermione suddenly, as she began to smooth down her hair and wipe away the sweat clinging to her brow. "Seeing the future?" she elaborated at Winona's confusion. "That vision looked particularly scary. Can you feel what you're doing when you're…_seeing_ something?" she asked, and Winona had to smile at the reluctant curiosity she was displaying.

"No," she told her simply. "It's almost like I leave my body. Like I'm actually _in_ the future. It can be overwhelming. Dumbledore says it's something that'll be easier to control with time, I just have to keep practising."

Hermione looked like she had a thousand more questions ready, but Harry interrupted her before she could press for more. "Hold still," he said, and Winona did as she was told, watching as his fingers reached out to her hair, plucking something from her long, blonde tresses. "Beetle," he explained, holding up the little thing for her to see, before turning and brushing it from his hand. It buzzed as though irritated, then took off, its little wings moving too fast to see, flying in the general direction of the forest.

Winona took a moment, then finally glanced down at her newest prediction. There was a great sort of pit, deep and lined with jagged rocks and large boulders. In the middle sat a massive, massive dragon, all dangerous spines and sharp, threatening teeth.

In the bottom corner of the page stood a tiny little figure, dwarfed by the dragon before it. The figure was too small to make out its face, but that wild head of hair was impossible to mistake.

"Harry," she said, slow and just a little bit unsteady.

He hummed, looking up from where he'd been absentmindedly flicking his wand, trying to get the movement just right for his Summoning Spell.

"I think I just found out what the first task's going to be," she told him, and his expression went slack in surprise. Heart racing, she handed over the sketchbook. He took it without hesitation, laying eyes upon his – quite immediate – future.

"Dragons?" he asked, and Hermione hurried to lean over him to get a good look. "The first task is _dragons_?" he said, glancing up at his cousin with wide, alarmed eyes.

"Apparently so," she murmured, mouth twisting into a concerned grimace.

"How am I meant to fight a dragon?" he asked, a perfectly reasonable question, one she didn't know the answer to. She shrugged, helpless and a little bit afraid.

"I'm sure Dumbledore won't _actually _let anyone get hurt," said Hermione primly, but even she couldn't mask the concern in her eyes. "Especially not you, Harry."

"Yeah," he murmured, but it was plain to see that he wasn't convinced.

The knowledge of the first task sat heavy with the lot of them, but they knew they couldn't tell anyone – that would only bring questions of how they knew, which would only reveal Winona's secret. As it turned out, however, the outing of Winona's secret was beyond any of their control, as they discovered only a few short days later.

Winona had barely gotten any sleep, tossing and turning as always, so when she wandered down to breakfast with Alicia, Angelina and Hope, she was praying it was going to be a quiet day of easy classes before she could go take a nap in the common room. Fate had other plans.

They were running a little bit late, and everyone was already in the Hall, chattering away. Winona had the strangest sense that she was being watched, and she turned her eyes to the rest of the Hall, only to find most of the student body with their eyes fixed on her. Many of them didn't even turn away when she caught them; they just openly gawked.

She knew it wasn't her imagination that they were staring, and most of them seemed to be whispering behind their hands as they goggled at her like she were Viktor fucking Krum.

Her first thought was that Fred had finally caved and told everyone about her relationship – if it could even be called that – with Jeremiah. Angry, her eyes slid down the table until she found him, only he didn't look either guilty or smug, instead he looked utterly horrified.

Confused by the strange reaction, she could do no more than look away, saying a quick farewell to the girls before moving further down the table towards Harry and Hermione.

Harry stood to his feet, meeting her halfway, the look on his face severe and urgent. "Harry?" she asked warily, feeling the stares on her back seem to almost triple in strength.

"Winnie, I don't know how they found out," he said nervously, holding out a copy of the Prophet, eyes wide and full of worry.

"Found out what?" she asked, pulse loud in her ears as she took it from him. It wasn't open to the front page, but rather one near the back of the edition. She brought it up to get a better look.

_The Secret Seer at Hogwarts_

Just reading the title, the blood drained from her face, leaving her a ghostly pale. Her hands began to shake, and she swallowed thickly, eyes wide as she forced herself to read on.

_If I were to say the name Winona Andrews, nobody reading this would be likely to know who I was talking about. Today, that changes. The Daily Prophet has heard exclusively from a source (whom wishes to remain anonymous) from within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that pretty sixth-year student, Winona Andrews – Winnie, to her friends – is nothing less than this generation's only known True Seer._

_Winona is a quiet girl, and not particularly studious, but she holds a gift most witches and wizards spend their whole lives trying to replicate with the use of crystal balls and tea leaves._

"_Winnie's been able to See things as long as I've known her," says our source, one of her closest friends. "She goes into these trances, and she's just able to draw the future. Nobody else knows, except Headmaster Dumbledore. I think he wants to keep her ability for himself."_

_We haven't been able to get ahold of Miss Andrews for a comment on the matter. Is Dumbledore really shielding the truth of her ability from the world, for nothing but his own gain? Could it be we have the next Cassandra Vablatsky right under our very noses? Watch this space for more news as the secrets unfurl._

Winona stared at the copy of the Prophet in horror. Suddenly the whispers made sense, and when she glanced up it seemed everyone was staring at her, some gaping like idiots, most just whispering about her to their friends.

She had no idea what to do. What could she do? What was there to do? How had they even found out?

Her eyes flickered back down to the words on the page, baring her soul for the wizarding world to see. She didn't have to wonder who the anonymous source was – there were only a small handful of people who knew her secret, and only one of them was currently furious with her. But furious enough to blab to the press? She didn't want to believe it, but there was only one person it could have been.

People continued to stare, and Winona felt like she couldn't breathe.

"I have to get out of here," she said to Harry without looking up at him.

"Winnie–" he tried to say, but she wasn't ready to hear it.

"I'll find you later, Harry," she told him, spinning on her heel and making a beeline for the doors to the entrance hall. The sea of stares and whispers followed her as she walked, and she felt a strong humiliation burn like acid in her gut. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She knew she needed to find Dumbledore. He would fix it, surely he would.

"Winnie!" a painfully familiar voice shouted after her, but she didn't so much as pause, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste to get away from him. "Winnie – stop!" Fred shouted again, and she could hear his beaten up old shoes slapping against the stone as he sped up. "Winona!"

She reached the landing at the top of the grand staircase, spinning on her heel in time to slam her scrunched up copy of the Prophet into Fred's chest. He froze, blue eyes wide and shocked.

"How could you?" she snarled at him, venom coating her voice.

"Win, this wasn't me. You know it wasn't," he said, but Winona barely heard him. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, and she gave him another shove, taking a large step back. She didn't even want to look at him.

"Nobody else could do this," she said sharply, pointing out the plain facts of the matter. "Nobody else had reason to."

"I would never tell _anyone_, whether we're fighting or not, Win," Fred swore, and she really wished she could believe him. But the furious, betrayed looks he'd been sending her since the night he'd caught her with Jeremiah told a different story.

Her eyes welled up with tears, and one spilled over her cheek. Angry, she reached up to wipe it away. At her tears, Fred looked like he'd been sucker punched in the gut. "I trusted you," she said, a sad, pathetic little whisper.

"Winnie, I swear on my life, I swear on _George's_ life. This _wasn't_ _me_," he insisted, desperate for her to believe him.

She stared at him, struggling to come to terms with it. The look in his cornflower blue eyes was sincere. She wanted to believe it so bad, it hurt. Another tear spilled down her cheek, but this time Fred was the one to wipe it away, shifting closer, blue eyes so big and round. She could see his worry for her, but it only made her heart twist with agony.

His hand against her skin was warm and reassuring, and with him this close she could smell his scent, the familiar combination of fresh soil and gunpowder.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked him, voice cracking with emotion as she stared up into his eyes, absolutely hating how vulnerable she felt in that moment. She was stronger than this – she had to be. But right now she didn't feel it.

"Yeah," Fred said, but there was a softness in his gaze that took away the bite the words otherwise would have held. "Furious. You?"

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Absolutely fuming."

They stared at one another, and for a moment his cruel words and her careless actions meant nothing. They were gone, disappeared between them, leaving only the soul-deep connection they'd always shared.

But then Peeves shot past, screeching something about the Bloody Baron, and the moment of armistice between them dissolved.

Winona shut her eyes, squeezing tightly and indulging in his touch for just one more moment before pulling away and rubbing stubbornly at her eyes. "I have to go find Dumbledore," she said hollowly, feeling just as empty in her chest. "You should get back. Ange's probably wondering where you've gone by now."

The use of his girlfriend's name seemed to sober him, and Fred stepped away, nodding his head once. Winona swallowed, feeling the space between them like an endless chasm. Her heart hurt again.

Then without another word, she forced herself to turn away, head ducked low as she padded off in the direction of the Headmaster's office. Fred's eyes followed her until she stepped around the corner, and finally she could breathe again.

The password to Dumbledore's office was still the same – much to Winona's relief – and he called for her to come in the moment she knocked on the door.

"Winona," he said when he saw her, sounding maybe more sympathetic than she'd ever heard him before. Her eyes red and puffy from crying – she probably looked pathetic. "Sit," he waved a hand at her usual chair. She made her way over, putting down her ever-present bag and sitting heavily in the seat.

Dumbledore flicked his wrist at the tea station in the corner and the tea immediately began to prepare itself.

"How are you doing?" he asked her, shutting the book he was browsing and taking a seat at his desk, steepling his hands beneath his chin.

"Not well," she answered honestly.

"I read Rita Skeeter's article in the paper this morning," he told her, the deep, familiar cadence of his voice soothing. "I've already owled the editor, expressing my extreme displeasure at the invasion of your privacy."

"Doesn't really do much good now," Winona murmured darkly. "The damage is done, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he replied, low and just a little sympathetic. "Do you know who this anonymous source is?" he asked after a moment, taking his teacup as it floated towards him. Winona lifted her head to do the same, but when she sipped her tea it only tasted like dirty water on her tongue.

"The only people who knew the truth were Harry, Ron, Hermione and the twins," she promised him, voice hollow even to her own ears. "It wasn't any of them," she added, believing the words as she said them. Given a little time to cool down, plus Fred's earnest promises, she was convinced it wasn't him who'd betrayed her trust.

They may have been fighting, and maybe the damage between them was irreparable, but she didn't believe he was capable of betraying her like that. There was too much history; their bond too strong. And, at his heart, Fred was a Gryffindor. He was loyal to a fault.

But then, if it wasn't him, who could it have been?

Although, if she was truly honest, the question of _who_ wasn't as much important as _what;_ as in _what now_?

"What do I do now, Professor?" she asked the Headmaster, voice embarrassingly small. "Would anyone believe me if I denied it?"

Dumbledore gave a pitying sort of smile that made Winona bristle. She didn't want pity, least of all his. "I don't think there's much use," he told her plainly, and she gripped her little teacup tighter. "I'm not going to lie to you, Winona," he continued, and she glanced back up, scared to hear his next words, whatever they may be. "Now that the truth is out, you're going to be in danger."

Winona gave a silent gulp, feeling her skin prickle, on high alert. "From who?" she asked, the next logical question.

Dumbledore leaned back in his majestic chair, old eyes glinting with knowledge she might never know. "There are people in this world, Winona, who would seek to control and exploit your ability for their own benefit," he told her steadily. Her stomach turned to lead. "They will stop at nothing to gain your talents for themselves."

Winona's mouth felt dry. "So, what can I do to stop it?"

"Nothing," he told her. She looked away, putting down her teacup when her fingertips began to tremble. "There will always be people like that in the world. All you can do is live your life and learn to protect yourself as best you can."

Winona swallowed, the tea in her stomach curdling like bad milk. "The whole school knows," she said, the hollow feeling in her gut only growing, like something small and hungry was gnawing at her insides. "There's nowhere to hide."

"You needn't hide. Not here," said the Headmaster, voice light and whimsical. She looked up at him in confusion. He was smiling, the expression small but confident. "You will always be safe within these walls," he promised her heartily. "Now, I do believe you have a Transfiguration lesson to get to," he said, and she reluctantly stood to her feet, shouldering her bag and taking a slow step in the direction of the door. "Winona," he called before she could go any further. She turned back to look at him. "I think you'll find that everything will be okay, in the end," he said kindly, blue eyes twinkling in the firelight as he handed her a small slip of paper with an explanation as to why she would be late to class. "Everything always is."

She meandered her way down to McGonagall's classroom, dragging her feet the whole way. She paused outside the door. The last thing she wanted was to sit inside a room with her classmates, feel the weight of their judgemental stares on her back.

But she couldn't just skip class, no matter how much she might want to. Trying very hard to draw on her so-called Gryffindor courage, Winona stepped through the doorway, head held high.

"Miss Andrews," McGonagall was the first to spot her, and in an instant every head in the room swivelled around to stare at her, just as she'd predicted. Winona swallowed around a lump in her throat. "I assume you have a valid explanation for your tardiness?" the professor asked her sternly. She gripped the strap of her bag, heading directly up the aisle to McGonagall's desk, handing over the note from Dumbledore.

The Transfiguration teacher scanned it quickly, then nodded her head and gestured for her to take her seat.

Turning around, Winona was surprised to see that the open seat wasn't beside Alicia or Hope, as it usually was, but rather beside George, who met her eyes before flickering his own to the open spot meaningfully.

Relief filled her like a water in a dam, and in that instant she felt like she could have started sobbing on the spot. Thankfully she kept her control, collapsing into the seat beside her best friend and pulling out her textbook and quill.

McGonagall continued on with her lesson, but Winona could feel the weight of all the eyes in the class on her back. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, pulse pounding in her ears. Something brushed her hand, and she flinched, only to glance over and see it was just George.

He was smiling a sad, sympathetic little smile, and without hesitation she gripped his hand, holding it tightly, skin warm and calloused under hers. Her eyes stung with tears, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall, pretending to pay attention to McGonagall's lesson while she drew on her best friend for comfort.

Class dragged on, seemingly forever, and by the time it was finally over, Winona was just about ready to blow a gasket. McGonagall dismissed them, and Winona didn't hesitate to leap to her feet, shoving her things back into her bag and turning to look up at George as they walked from the classroom.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, doing a good job of ignoring all the blatant stares being sent their way.

"What do you think?" she scoffed, glaring at a pair of Ravenclaws who were openly gaping from a few metres down the hall. They let out small titters and turned away, rushing off to their next class.

"I think that if you frown any harder, you'll get permanent wrinkles," he joked, reaching out to poke her playfully between the eyes. She batted his hand away, trying her best to cement the scowl on her face.

They reached the end of the hall, the path branching off in two directions. George had to go right, down to the dungeons for double Potions, while Winona had to go left, out onto the grounds for her Care of Magical Creatures lesson. She was surprised to find that Angelina and Fred were waiting there; Angelina to go with George, Fred with her down to Hagrid's hut.

They were whispering to one another, in the middle of some kind of hushed argument. Fred looked frustrated, and Angelina hurt. George cleared his throat as he and Winona approached, and the couple glanced up sharply, their argument coming to a screeching halt.

"Winona," said Angelina tersely. Nobody could have missed the tension in her voice. She eyed Winona warily, with a suspicion that Winona felt was greatly unwarranted.

"Hey, Ange," she greeted her amicably anyway, gripping on tight to the strap of her bag, holding it like a lifeline.

She could see the thousands of questions swimming in her eyes, but before she could voice any one of them, Fred spoke up, a defensive edge to his voice. "We should go," he said to Winona. "Don't want to be late."

Winona wanted to ask since when he cared about tardiness, but she didn't dare rock the boat. She just nodded her head, shooting an unconvincing smile at George and Angelina before spinning on her heel and padding down the corridor that led to the school's grounds. She heard Fred mutter a farewell, then felt him following after her, sticking close to her side.

They said nothing on the walk down to class, but the silence wasn't as uncomfortable as she would have thought. It was full of tension, yes, but that was a given. Winona kept her eyes on her feet, ignoring the blatant stares of her classmates as she navigated the path down the hill towards Hagrid's hut.

Unfortunately, Winona and Fred were the only two Gryffindors to be taking NEWT level Care of Magical Creatures, the rest of the class was made up of students from other Houses. Nobody they passed on the way down said anything, and for a moment she almost believed she'd bypassed any confrontation, but when they reached their usual meeting place for class, Hagrid was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, well, if it isn't Hogwarts' secret Seer!" crowed a leering voice. Winona's grip on her bag strap tightened, the material cutting into the flesh of her palm. She spun around, meeting Jonathan Downey of Ravenclaw's teasing eyes. "Say Andrews, could you do me a favour and read my palm for me? I'd like to know what I'm having for lunch," he sneered derisively.

The group of Slytherins at the back of the class all tittered, and his fellow Ravenclaws snorted with cruel laughter. The Hufflepuffs just looked uncomfortable.

"Doesn't work like that, you prick," Winona replied without missing a beat.

"Then how _does_ it work?" he pressed, edging closer. "I'm sure we'd all _love_ to hear about how you see into the future. Tell me, do you wind up as as much of a freak after school as you are now?" he laughed tauntingly, and his little crowd of fans all giggled like it were the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard.

Winona grit her teeth, in her mind repeated a mantra of _I will not hit him, I will not hit him, I will not hit him, I will not–_

"Shut up, Downey," snapped Fred, and Winona looked up at him in surprise. He had a furious glare on his face, eyes like little chips of ice, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Or what, Weasley?" Downey countered, arms crossed over his chest, a combative smirk on his stupid, ugly face. "You gonna tell on me for hurting your freaky little girlfriend's feelings?" he jeered.

Fred's entire body was tense, and Winona could sense the oncoming fight from a mile away. She reached up, wrapping a small hand around Fred's bicep, gripping tightly, a grounding presence. "He's not worth it," she told him quietly, gently beginning to pull him backwards, out of the danger zone.

Fred was reluctant, but he wasn't an idiot. He moved back with her even as he glared daggers at the bulky Ravenclaw. Downey laughed, the sound like two stones being crushed together. "That's right, Weasel, walk away," he sneered triumphantly. "Hide behind your little groupie."

Winona paused, turning to look at the cruel Ravenclaw, blood in her veins turning to ice. "What did you just call me?"

"A groupie," said Downey without so much as a hint of shame.

Winona's hands balled into fists. "I'm no one's groupie," she snarled, letting go of Fred and taking a threatening step closer. As she moved, the Ravenclaw produced his wand, a hint of wariness appearing in his cold eyes.

"What're you gonna do, read me my tea-leaves until I die of boredom?" he scoffed, but nobody laughed this time, probably because of the way Winona's eyes flashed in warning.

"No," she said, scarily calm. "But I will tell you your future."

He smirked, gripping his wand in his fist, eyes sharp and mocking. "Go ahead," he sneered. "We can't wait to hear it."

"I'm afraid you're never going to have any children," Winona told him in a sympathetic voice, wandering slowly closer, eyes wide, the picture of innocence.

Downey's expression scrunched in confusion. "What does that–?"

But before he could finish getting the question out, Winona brought up her knee, jerking it mercilessly into his crotch. The Ravenclaw instantly crumpled to the ground, holding himself in agony, tears appearing in his eyes.

The students around them all gave loud gasps of shock, some scuttling out of the way as though Winona was on a rampage and they were next on her list.

Victorious and just a little bit smug, she leaned in to whisper in the bully's ear. "Call me a groupie again, and I'll leave you pissing out of a tube," she threatened, then pulled away just as Hagrid came around the corner, cheerful as ever until he noticed the state of disarray his students were in.

"Oi, you lot," his booming voice called over the group. "What's going on here?"

"Andrews just attacked Jonathan," said Stacy Mann, another Ravenclaw in their year, pointing a perfectly manicured, accusing finger in Winona's face.

Hagrid took in the way Downey was curled on the ground, holding himself in agony. His eyes went wide, and he didn't seem to know how to react. "Tha' true, Winona?" the gentle giant asked her warily, clearly hoping she'd deny it.

But Winona respected Hagrid too much to lie to his face. "He deserved it," she told him evenly, arms crossed over her chest.

Hagrid looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Be tha' as it may, I'm goin' ter have ter issue yeh a detention," he said reluctantly. Winona only nodded her head in agreement. His beady eyes slid over to Downey, still in a ball in the dirt. "Yeh alrigh', Downey?" he asked carefully.

Jason Crawford, a burly Slytherin, bent down to help Downey to his feet. "He'll be right, professor," Crawford assured Hagrid, taking a moment to aim a threatening glower at Winona. But it was like water off a duck's back for all the good it did. Feeling very proud of herself, she hiked her bag up her shoulder and started off in the direction of their lesson.

Hagrid was leading them towards the lake, and as they walked, Fred caught up with her. She was surprised by his presence, glancing up to find him smiling into thin air like he'd just thought up a particularly amusing joke.

"What's that look for?" she demanded, half dreading the answer.

"I guess I just forgot that you can take of yourself," he told her, still smiling like he'd just seen the best show of his entire life.

"Damn right I can," she replied, unable to quell the tiny smile flickering at her lips.

For one brilliant, shining moment, everything was exactly how it should be. Fred was her best friend, her secret was still a secret and life was easy and utterly uncomplicated.

The illusion was broken, however, when a pair of Hufflepuff girls passed them by, whispering quite loudly about whether Winona used her abilities to cheat on their OWLs the year before or not.

Sighing with exhaustion, Winona curled into herself, shutting herself off from the world around her and slinking back into her safe, desolate little hole of dismay.

Class passed by quickly, all things considered. Fred never left her side, but they barely said two words to one another. Things weren't just going to get miraculously better, no matter how much she desperately wished they would. Fred had said awful things, and she wasn't ready to forgive him for that yet. Maybe ever.

It was a harrowing thought – not making up with Fred – but it was one she had to consider now. Would she be able to get past what he'd said? Would he be able to move on from what she'd done? There were so many uncertainties, she felt like she was drowning in them.

Making her way up to the castle for lunch, she and Fred broke away from one another without so much as a word. He went to join George at one end of the Gryffindor table, while Winona spied Harry near the middle, sitting opposite Ginny and Hermione.

Taking a seat beside her cousin, she noticed when his shoulders slumped in sheer relief at the sight of her. "Winnie," he said, eyes wide and concerned as he abandoned his sandwich wedge on a plate, turning his full attention to her. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Boy-Wonder," she assured him, reaching up to pat him on the back before moving to begin gathering a collection of fruit and minced pies onto her plate. "You?" she asked in kind. Harry was suspiciously silent from beside her, and she looked up from where she was cutting open a pie. "Harry?" she asked, glancing over at the girls for help.

"You weren't the only one mentioned in the paper today," Hermione said in a whisper that still carried. She held out a copy of the Prophet and Winona all but snatched it from her hand, spreading it out on the table in front of her.

The front page was nothing but a large, moving picture of Harry, smiling rather awkwardly at the camera before looking away and moving his lips, quite clearing asking if he could leave yet.

Frowning, Winona flipped to the pages with the articles, giving it a proper scan.

_I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now…Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it…I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…_

Then, after that ridiculous, faked quote, was another paragraph that had Winona's eyes wide in shock.

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

"Sweet children, please excuse my potty mouth," she began steadily, looking up at them with bewildered eyes, "but what the _actual fuck _is this?"

"Bullshit, is what it is," said Ginny with a snort, and Hermione shot her a reprimanding glare for her mouth. "What, Winnie can swear, but I can't? How's that fair?"

"How could she just misquote you like that?" Winona hissed furiously, turning to look at her cousin.

"How'd you know I _didn't_ say that?" Harry asked lowly, rightfully bitter over Skeeter's words.

"Because I've _met_ you?" she said without pause. Across from her, Ginny snorted again. "Want me to go scare the life outta Creevey for saying you've been shacking up with Hermione?" she offered distantly, folding the paper and chucking it onto the table, picking up a slice of watermelon instead.

Hermione's cheeks went pink at the words, but Harry just groaned and dropping his head, letting it bang against the table in a very Winona-like move.

"What's the matter, Potter?" came a nasally voice from a table over. "Crying some more about your dead mum?"

It was Pansy Parkinson, a fourth year Slytherin. She and her little group of followers all cackled like the quip were the most clever thing said since Shakespeare. Winona fished out her wand, muttering a spell as she flicked it in Parkinson's direction. The hex hit her in the face, a sardines began to shoot from her nose like gross little bullets.

She screamed, the sound loud and piercing in the half-empty Hall. Everyone stared in surprise, some people laughing, and from further down the Gryffindor table, Fred and George began to cheer loudly.

Harry looked back up from the table, a reluctant grin on his face. Winona put away her wand, just glad she'd been able to make him smile.

She knew she couldn't avoid her friends forever – although she certainly wouldn't have been against _trying_ – and while she stayed close by Harry and Hermione all through dinner and on her way back up to the common room, eventually there came the moment she'd been dreading. Bed time.

Her friends all sat in a tight group in the far corner of the common room, and Winona knew they were talking about her from the furtive glances they were sending her way. She couldn't blame them – they'd just discovered a giant secret she'd kept from them for years. She'd want to talk about it too.

Fred and George sat with them, but from what Winona could see, they were being awfully tight-lipped on the subject. She silently thanked their unwavering loyalty. Even with everything else going on between them, they were still on her side. She suddenly truly understood what that old saying meant; the one about sticking together through both thick and thin.

Hermione could see her hesitating, glancing anxiously between her group of friends and the door leading to the dormitories. "You have to go to bed sometime, Winona," the fourth year told her logically. "And you can't avoid them forever."

It wasn't anything she didn't already know, but Winona still scowled at her anyway, as if the words were a personal betrayal. Hermione just stared back, pity in her eyes that made Winona itch to hit something.

"They're your friends," Hermione continued before she could do any such thing. "They're not going to treat you any differently."

"I've been lying to them for years," Winona replied, the words bitter and full of a bubbling self-hatred that she didn't want to have to admit to.

"No, you just haven't told them something. That's different," Hermione argued. Winona grimaced at her. The words were hardly comforting. "I'm sure there are things _they _haven't told _you_, you know," Hermione continued in the same breath. "We all have secrets."

But Winona wasn't in the state of mind to absorb Hermione's intelligent insight. "I should have told them," she said gloomily, scowling at the rug beneath her feet.

"You were protecting yourself," said Harry, surprising her. She'd forgotten he was there, sitting to the girls' left, reluctantly going over his notes from Transfiguration the day before (probably at Hermione's insistence). "Besides, Dumbledore told you not to tell them," he added as though it solved everything. "They can hardly blame you for just following orders."

"The Nazis were just following orders too, Harry."

Harry snorted with wry laughter and Hermione tutted in exasperation. "Don't be so dramatic," she told the older girl sternly.

"The thing is, I told Fred and George," Winona said, turning a little more in her seat to face her younger friends, lowering her voice so a pair of passing third years didn't hear. "They're not going to like that the twins knew, but they didn't."

"But your relationship's different with Fred and George," said Hermione logically. "It's deeper. Anyone with eyes can see that. It makes sense that they'd know." Winona sighed, squeezing her eyes shut tight and tipping her head back until it knocked against the back of the couch, a small groan escaping her lips. "This isn't homework – it's not something you can procrastinate."

Winona cracked open one eye to appraise Hermione thoughtfully. "Was that a joke or a dig?"

"Can't it be both?"

Harry chuckled from beside her but Winona just sighed loudly, unable to find it in herself to so much as smile. "Hermione's right, Winnie," said Harry, voice low and somehow comforting in the way that only family could be. It was something she was slowly learning to like, and to understand. "It'll be okay. Ange, Katie and Alicia are all great. I know they'll understand," he added encouragingly.

Winona cast her eyes to her friends again, all of whom were leant into one another, whispering amongst themselves quickly, no doubt preparing whatever they were planning to say to her when they got her alone.

"Maybe I'll just hang out down here with you guys for awhile longer," Winona said, like an absolute coward.

Hermione and Harry both rolled their eyes. "Well you can't, because _I'm_ heading to bed," said Hermione primly, not in any way subtle. She cast Harry a meaningful glance.

"Oh, uh, me too," he said dumbly, scrambling to his feet.

Winona glared at the frizzy-haired witch. "You're mean," she said grouchily.

"You'll get into fistfights with Slytherins, but you won't have a serious discussion with your friends?" Hermione asked critically. Winona pouted, though it did little good. "Go up to your dorm and face the music, Winnie," she said, tone laced with exasperation. "You'll be an adult in a matter of months – how about you act like it?"

It was harsh, but nonetheless true, and Winona sighed heavily. Hermione smiled, small and tinged with that annoying sympathy, watching as the sixth year stood slowly to her feet. Uncaring who was watching, Winona leant in to scoop Harry into a hug.

"I don't think it will, but if it _does_ go badly, for whatever reason, you're welcome to come up to my dorm for the night. I'm happy to kip on the floor," her cousin offered kindly, and Winona smiled into his shoulder, squeezing affectionately.

"Thanks, Harry," she said, stepping back and reaching up to ruffle his untamable hair.

He smiled, small and weary but altogether supportive before they went their separate ways – Hermione and Winona up the stairs to the right, and Harry to the left. The girls parted at Hermione's dorm, which was two doors down from Winona's. "Good luck," Hermione whispered, smiling encouragingly before slipping into her dorm.

Winona's dorm was empty, as she knew it would be – all her friends still gathering their nerve to approach her down in the common room. Not for the first time, Winona wished boys were allowed up to the girls' dorms. She'd have given anything for Fred and George to be with her when this went down – but she knew she couldn't rely on them for everything, all the time. At some point she was going to have to grow up and face the consequences for her actions, whether she was holding her best friends' hands or not.

She showered for an extra long time, indulging in the scalding hot water against her skin. It didn't wash away her troubles, but her tense muscles relaxed just a little under the heat, and the scent of her lavender soap was calming in a gentle, familiar kind of way.

Once she couldn't justify standing under the spray any longer, Winona climbed out and dressed in an old pair of flannel pyjama pants and the paint-splattered shirt she usually wore to bed, before pulling on one of her older Weasley sweaters, its soft woollen texture against her skin just as calming as her soap had been.

After drying her hair and brushing her teeth, she stepped out into the dorm hoping it would be empty, and being immediately disappointed.

Angelina, Alicia and Katie were all standing around her bed, quite clearly waiting for her to emerge. Hope wasn't there, but she wasn't too surprised – she could usually be found in the library or off with her girlfriend until the last possible moment before curfew.

Winona silently prayed to Godric Gryffindor for some courage as she tugged the sleeves of her sweater down over her fingers and gingerly approached.

"Winnie," said Katie in greeting, and her tone wasn't combative – a small comfort.

"Hey," Winona replied, aware of how awkward she sounded but not sure how to fix it. She stood before them, hands wringing together with anxiety. What were they meant to say? And who was meant to say it?

Her three friends exchanged a long glance, and Winona's mouth felt dry. In the end, it was Alicia who spoke, a soft sort of look on her face. "Is it true?" she asked, quiet but full of curiosity.

Winona swallowed thickly, crossing her arms over her chest and balling the material of her sweater into her fists. "The twins didn't confirm it?" she asked, surprised.

"They wouldn't say a word," said Angelina, a deep frown gracing her pretty features, like this troubled her greatly.

"Left us to speculate for ourselves," continued Alicia, with a little less disapproval. "They'd never betray your trust like that," she added, a small smile on her face, almost wistful. Winona felt a surge of warmth for the twins, even despite it all, but stamped it down before it could threaten to consume her.

"But it's true, isn't it? And they know?" pushed Angelina, refusing to give. Katie elbowed the taller girl in reprimand for her lack of tact, but Angelina ignored it, staring back at Winona, her eyes hard and unyielding.

She was suddenly faced with the same argument she'd offered to Dumbledore: she could deny it. But even as she knew this to be a possibility, she recalled her Headmaster's wise words. There was no use in denying it. People had probably already made up their own minds.

Besides, did she really want to continue living a lie? Did she want to layer on more and more untruths, one after the other, until she was all but drowning in her own lies?

"It's true," she said faintly, feeling her hands tremble at the dangerous honesty. She tilted her chin just slightly up, hoping she'd look confident, even if she didn't feel it. "I'm a Seer."

Katie looked stunned, as though she hadn't expected it to actually be true; Alicia was smiling sadly, probably full of sympathy for her plight; and Angelina was frowning, anything but impressed by her confession.

"So, you've just been lying to us this whole time? Ever since we met?" asked Angelina, and the accusation stung Winona like a hex.

"Dumbledore made me swear not to tell," she said, but an excuse was still an excuse no matter how true it was.

"Didn't seem to stop you from telling the twins," Angelina replied hotly.

That was true, and she was already on such an honesty kick, she couldn't stomach the thought of starting to lie now. "I know – but Fred sort of discovered my secret, and it was either fess up or Obliviate him … and since I didn't know how to do that at the time…" she trailed off meaningfully.

"But then you let him tell George," said Angelina, and it wasn't a question.

Winona levelled her with an utterly unimpressed expression. "Have you met them? They're joined at the hip. Arguing would have been pointless. Besides, I wanted George to know."

"But not us," said Katie in what Winona realised sounded like the natural end of that sentence.

"That's not what I meant."

"Sure seemed like it," countered Angelina smartly, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"Seems to me like you're planning to persecute me no matter what I say, Ange," she sniped, her hackles rising in response to her words. Angelina didn't respond but to narrow her eyes until they were no more than small, beady slits.

"Winnie isn't on _trial_, Ange," Alicia spoke quietly, but not so quietly that Winona couldn't hear. "She didn't tell us, so what? I'm sure there're things we haven't told her over the years," she said logically, and Winona felt about ready to collapse at her feet in gratitude.

"I wouldn't have lied. Not about something this big," Angelina insisted, eyes flickering from Winona, to Alicia and back again. "I sleep five feet away from you," she continued, voice wobbling with emotion. "I deserve to know who I'm sharing a room with."

Both Katie and Alicia looked about as blindsided by the words as Winona felt. "She's not a serial killer, Ange," Katie reminded her evenly. "She only sees the future. It's hardly a threat to your safety."

"I deserved to know," Angelina protested, becoming something of a broken record. The words were an echo of what Winona had told Dumbledore, the night she'd discovered Sirius Black was her father. The comparison made her heart hurt.

"Maybe the reason I didn't tell you sooner was because I thought you'd react kind of like _this_, Ange," Winona said, taking herself by surprise.

"You didn't _tell_ me at all," she argued, standing from where she'd been sat on the edge of Winona's bed, hands on her hips, expression like that of a furious professor. "I had to find out in a copy of _The_ _Prophet_. Merlin, Winona –_ Rita Skeeter_ knew before us."

"I'm sorry," Winona told her abruptly, something she hadn't been expecting herself to say. Angelina looked surprised by the apology, stopping her hounding to blink, unsure how to react. Winona took a moment to examine exactly what it was that she was sorry _for._ "I'm sorry that you're upset, and that you feel betrayed," she began, steadily gaining confidence. "But this was _my_ business, not yours. It was my secret to tell – and in the end I didn't even get _that._" Winona sighed, reaching up to run her fingers through her damp, blonde hair. "I just want things to go back to normal," she said, a confession she hadn't been prepared to give.

Pity passed over her friends' faces, and she ground her teeth together in frustration. She was so sick of _pity._

"Did you have a vision, that time in third year when you drew a three-headed dog on the blackboard?" asked Alicia suddenly. Winona looked up in surprise.

"Uh, yeah," she confirmed awkwardly. "That was a vision."

"Why did you have a vision of a three-headed dog?" Alicia pressed, face scrunched in confusion.

And this was one of the things she was afraid of; being asked questions she simply couldn't answer. "Sometimes the things I see are personal," she began, shifting her weight from foot to foot, as if she wanted to run away. She stayed put, staring back at her friends with as much confidence as she could muster. "I can't always tell or show you everything I see. If I do, bad things could happen."

"Well, you certainly think highly of yourself," muttered Angelina bitterly, Alicia turned to her, disapproval in her eyes.

"Ange," she hissed sternly.

"It's okay, Alicia," Winona said calmly, her eyes on Angelina. "I'm a Seer," she continued, staring at her skeptical friend intently. "That means something that even I don't really understand yet. But I know that I have to be careful. I know that everything I do has to be thought out, weighed against the greater good."

Angelina scowled, still unconvinced. Winona didn't know why she was so bitter, or being so cruel about the whole thing. Was it just because of the lies, or did it go deeper than that?

She turned her eyes instead to Alicia and Katie, both of whom were frowning, but not in anger or disgust, but rather just a genuine confusion. "Can you forgive me?" she asked them quietly.

Alicia smiled, small and tentative. "Of course we can, Win."

Katie nodded in ardent agreement, while Angelina merely looked away, staring at the clock on the far wall like it were more interesting than this conversation.

"But can we promise that there'll be no more secrets from here on out?" asked Katie hopefully.

Winona tried not to gulp. "Yeah," she agreed tentatively. "Okay."

And she felt like utter shite as she said it, because the more she thought about it, the more secrets began piling up in the back of her head. The visions she couldn't talk about; the mess that was her relationship – if it could be called that – with Jeremiah; Harry being her cousin; her dad being _Sirius _fucking_ Black._ The lies were growing like fungi in her brain, and she felt her throat turn tight as they screamed from inside her head, guilt like an enemy in her heart.

But some things she just couldn't come clean about. She couldn't be honest about Sirius – if things were difficult now that they knew she was a Seer, how much _more_ difficult would they get if everyone knew she was the daughter of the wizarding world's most wanted criminal?

Besides, the less people who knew, the better. It was safer that way. But for who, she couldn't say.

"Are we okay?" she asked her friends cautiously, knowing in her heart that they weren't – but that she was the only one who had to live with knowing that.

"Now that you've aired all your dirty laundry?" Katie asked with a playful smirk on her pretty face. "Hmm … I suppose so."

Alicia grinned in agreement. "I feel good about this. A pact between women is a tighter bond than even the Unbreakable Vow," she added lightly. "No more secrets."

Winona's insides dropped out from beneath her, and she knew this lie, more than any of the others, was going to haunt her. So, it was with a heavy heart and the knowledge that she was simply a terrible person on a fundamental level, that she agreed. "No more secrets."

The next day passed quickly, and Winona found she had to acclimatise to a brand new normal.

Things were still tense and cold between her and Fred, but now that the entire school knew her secret, he'd gotten over the majority of his ire and instead spent most of his time at her side – along with George – watching out for anyone pushing her to read their fortune, or tell them who would win the Triwizard Tournament. People seemed less inclined to approach her with them beside her, wands twirling in their hands, threatening to send a Biting Jinx at anyone who came too close.

They didn't speak to one another much, but it was still better than the downright hostility that had hovered between them before. Neither she nor Fred had yet made any move to apologise, but Winona wasn't going to press the issue. Things would work out – because it was her and Fred, and they just _had _to.

At dinner that night, Winona was unsurprised to find herself sitting between the twins, each of them perched on her either side as if they were gargoyles warding a castle from harm. She appreciated their presence, and even with the lingering tension between her and Fred, she was still glad to have them there, tall and unpromising in their support.

The others all sat opposite them, and while Alicia, Lee and Katie were fine, Angelina had yet to speak a word to Winona, acting as if she wasn't even there. Fred and George seemed their usual selves, laughing and joking with those nearby, but Winona could see the tense way Fred was holding his shoulders, and didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on Angelina. She wondered what he might be thinking, but distracted herself with talking to George about the Weird Sister's upcoming album, and whether the engagement rumours of their bassist, Donaghan Tremlett, were true.

Little known fact about George Weasley – he could be an awfully large gossip when he wanted to be.

George and Katie were just getting into a game of rating each of the Weird Sisters members on a scale from 1-10 in hotness, when Winona felt eyes on her. Her skin tingled with awareness. At first she thought it might have been Angelina, who'd taken to frowning at her intermittently throughout the meal. But when she looked over, Angelina was busy talking to Lee about the Transfiguration essay due the following week, so it wasn't her.

Following the insistent tug in her gut, Winona's eyes slid across the Great Hall to where the Slytherin table sat, the students along it all wearing deep green and silver ties. And she was right – Jeremiah was staring at her, eyes beady and dark, focused on her with all the intensity of a threat.

Winona reached up to wrap a hand around her parched throat. Like his eyes were some kind of snare, she found she couldn't look away. Jeremiah jerked his head in the direction of the entrance hall, and Winona felt her stomach swoop with nerves.

Glancing down at her half-full plate, she found she wasn't really very hungry anyway. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said abruptly, and the twins turned to her as though they'd been summoned.

"We'll walk you back up to the tower," said Fred without a shred of hesitation. Things might have been awful between them, but he wasn't going to let her go about alone.

"No, you stay here; eat. I'll head head up alone," she told him patiently. A crease appeared between ginger eyebrows as he frowned. Clearly he didn't like the idea of her wandering the castle alone, and she didn't either, if she were honest.

But she didn't want to tell him she was meeting Jeremiah. Her friendship with Fred was tenuous at best at the moment, and she knew how furious Jeremiah made him. The last thing she wanted to do was add fuel to that fire, lest he made any other absolutely cutting comments that would keep her awake for more days on end.

"Winnie can take care of herself, Fred," said Alicia from her place across the table, exasperated.

"Besides, she'll just _See_ any trouble and go a different route," added Lee brightly, a flicker of amusement to his dark eyes. "Right, Win?"

Rolling her eyes, Winona didn't bother to reply. "I'll see you guys back up in the common room," she said evenly, standing to her feet and stepping away from the table. "Maybe bring me up some pie after dessert?"

"You got it, sweet cheeks," Lee winked.

Deciding not to bother replying, Winona simply rolled her eyes and turned to leave, trying to slow her racing pulse down with nothing but her sheer power of will.

What did Jeremiah want? Did he want to talk, or did he just want a shag? The former would have surprised her, honestly. He was predictable in his thinking patterns. He wasn't the type to meet up for a chat.

She walked through the door, stepping out into the entrance hall to find him leaning against the far wall, out of sight from the students sitting beyond the doors, chattering happily and filling their stomachs with food. "Hey," she greeted him, slowly approaching, arms crossed uncomfortably over her chest.

"Andrews," he greeted her, the sound of her fake surname sharp and impersonal on his lips. She stopped a few feet away from him, unsure if it was wise to get any closer. "I caught yesterday's edition of _The Prophet_," he began casually, and Winona swallowed around the lump sitting like an iron ball in her throat. "I was quite surprised by one article in particular."

Winona didn't want to skirt around the issue. The vague way in which he spoke only irritated her. "Are you mad I didn't tell you?" she asked warily.

Jeremiah's eyebrow hitched up in something like surprise. "So it _is_ true, then," he said, and she realised that, until that moment, he hadn't quite believed it. "I'd have hardly picked you for a Seer," he continued on, brutally honest.

She felt like that were some kind of thinly-veiled insult, and frowned. "What do you want, Jeremiah?" she demanded, proud of how steady her voice came out.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "Is that such a crime?"

Surprised, Winona blinked back at him without speaking. She knew all the words, but they didn't make sense. He'd never said anything so … sweet, before. But then he had to open his mouth and ruin it.

"We could slip into an empty classroom," he suggested keenly. "Everyone's busy with dinner, so they won't miss us."

Of course all he wanted was a shag. Assessing herself, Winona knew she just didn't feel like it. Didn't feel like letting this boy paw at her like an animal in heat. Didn't feel like losing herself in skin against skin – no matter how good it could sometimes be. All she wanted was to curl up in front of a roaring fire and sketch to her heart's content.

"Not today. Sorry, I don't feel like it," she said gently, stepping around him, her heart already set on the couch in front of the fire up in her common room. She could already smell the ashy scent the charcoal would give off as she smeared it across paper.

Winona was stunned when Jeremiah's arm shot out, his hand curling tightly around her arm, stopping her from leaving. Her heart swooped and a bad feeling appeared in her stomach, like something heavy had settled low in her gut.

"Come on," he sneered, voice like acid, and she couldn't deny the fear that began to curdle in her veins. "What, you got your five minutes of fame, and now you're too good for me?" he goaded her.

Frowning, Winona extracted her arm from his hold. "No, I'm just tired," she told him slowly, like she were talking to a wild animal. Like he might snap and attack at any moment. "I'd rather just go up to bed."

But Jeremiah looked anything but understanding. "Fine," he snapped, short and sharp as he took a large step away from her. "But don't come crying to me next time you're feeling lonely."

That felt unnecessarily rude, and she was speechless as she watched the Slytherin turn and storm his way back into the Great Hall.

He was pissed because she'd said no to sex? She wasn't his personal whore – no matter what Fred seemed to think – and she had no obligation to shag him whenever he felt a passing fancy.

The realisation stuck a chord within her, and although there was nobody around to see, she lifted her head just a little bit higher. She may have lost her dignity, but in amongst all of it she'd gained a new shard of self-respect. She wasn't going to be somebody's whore. She wasn't going to let herself be used.

She was finally going to do something about it.

* * *

**A/N: I can't believe we've made it over 500 reviews. You guys are the best. The reactions from last chapter differed quite a bit, and I'm not surprised. Some of you thought what Fred said was abusive and cruel – and in a way, it was – but he didn't mean it in a manipulative way at all. He was jealous, and he's still so young and inexperienced. He doesn't know how to properly channel his emotions yet. Things are slowly beginning to get better – I promise. Hang in there.**

**Review of the week goes to _RainbowLabs –_ thanks so much for your review. You're right, we haven't delved much into the Sirius/Winona dynamic. But I promise you, in the coming chapters you'll start to see it happening, and you'll see why I've waited…**

**Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time!**


	36. No rest for the wicked

The day that Winona and Harry were to speak with Sirius approached quickly, and she found herself excited to see him again. She didn't have the faintest clue how he was expecting to meet them in the Gryffindor common room – especially with him still being a wanted criminal and all – but she was eager nonetheless.

It was not only a Saturday, but also a Hogsmeade weekend. While all her friends were eager to head down to the wizarding village, Winona found herself too drained to bother tagging along. George had offered to stay with her for the day, but she'd insisted he go down with the others, knowing how much he'd been looking forward to it, wanting to pick up some more dungbombs from _Zonko's_ and some extra potion ingredients from _Dogweed_ _and_ _Deathcap._

"Seriously, just go," she'd said sternly, pushing a small handful of Sickles into George's hand. "And buy me some more Sugar Quills from _Honeydukes_ while you're there, yeah?"

He'd reluctantly let Katie drag him out, and Winona was left almost completely alone in the common room. There was a small group of first and second years having some kind of chess tournament by the fire, and a pair of seventh years taking the opportunity to get some studying in while the common room was quiet.

Winona sketched leisurely, sunken into the soft, squishy cushions of the couch, bag of supplies cracked open beside her. She used everything from charcoal to watercolours, enjoying the quiet hum of the room's activity, and the warmth of the crackling fire.

Hours passed her by, and she succeeded in keeping her thoughts from straying to Jeremiah and the frustrated look he'd worn only a few short days before when she'd turned down the opportunity of a shag. She focused on her work, and when she was drawing, it was easy to forget the troubles hanging over her life like storm clouds.

So immersed in her drawing, that Winona didn't even notice when she slipped from the present to the future.

Like her mind had reached out into the aether beyond what she could touch, she was submerged in the current of time.

There were great, thunderous roars echoing all around her, and the screamed cheers of hundreds of young, excited voices. Flashes of heat splashed across her face and body, like somebody was dipping her into a sea of flames. There was a shimmer of gold, bright and sparkling in the firelight, and the glint of orange, inhuman scales.

When she came out of the vision, it was to find herself in the exact same place she'd been before, with not so much as a hair out of place. The other Gryffindors were still studying and playing their games, none paying her even a lick of attention.

She sat, undisturbed, on the couch. A glance at the clock told her it was mid-afternoon, and she realised that the other Gryffindors would be returning shortly. Reluctantly, Winona glanced down at her newest glimpse into the future.

She was strangely unsurprised to find another great, monstrous dragon sketched onto her page. Done in far more detail than it had been only days before, it looked angry, with hundreds of sizeable spines protruding from its head, neck and body. Its wings were flared, stretching to the very edges of the page. It looked to be in some kind of a pit, guarding a small, glittering, golden egg.

Most concerning of all was the small figure in the bottom right corner of the page. They were dressed in black and scarlet, a name written clear as day across their back: _POTTER._

Terror seized her, and Winona gripped her sketchbook so tight that the edges of the pages crinkled a little under her fingertips. She knew what this was – it wasn't her first vision on the matter, after all – but it was just as terrifying as it had been before.

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was only in only a few short days. Harry would be coming face-to-face with this beast in under a week. Harry would be in danger, and there was nothing she could do except draw pictures about it and fret like an overprotective parent.

She found herself suddenly beside herself. Dumbledore actually expected Harry – a _fourteen year old boy_ – to fight a _dragon_? Was he certifiably insane? Did he want Harry to fail?

She knew Harry had gone with Hermione down to Hogsmeade, and despite wanting to find him as soon as humanly possible, she knew it would be stupid to go looking for him so late in the day. He'd make his way back up to the common room eventually, no doubt sooner rather than later, given the late hour. Besides, without the Marauders Map, she may as well have been searching for a needle in a haystack.

Full of a mounting anxiety, she could do no more than wait, halfheartedly sketching an outline for a piece she wanted to work on later – the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which held all the people at the school she held most dear. Every few minutes she would glance at the portrait hole, eager for her cousin to appear.

When he finally did, it was just after six, and Winona just about launched herself from the couch in her impatience. Harry blinked in surprise when she all but pounced on him, gripping his shoulders and dragging him over to the couch she'd claimed for the better half of the day.

"Winnie?" he asked, letting her shove him down into his seat. Hermione shot the cousins a smile and wandered up to the dorms, leaving them alone to talk. "What's wrong?" he pressed, watching as she scrambled for her sketchbook. "You had another vision?"

"Did I have a vision…" she parroted exasperatedly, flicking to the right page and shoving the book into his arms. Harry had to readjust his glasses as he peered down at the tiny peek into his future.

"Another dragon?" he asked weakly. When he glanced up at her, even his emerald eyes looked pale. "You think there's going to be more than one?"

She quickly shook her head. "I think it's the same one," she said, tapping a stained nail against the paper. It was detailed and full of lifelike colour. Even in her blind stupors, she was able to find the right colours to add, if the time so allowed. "Have you begun working on how to defeat it?"

Harry winced. "Oh – er – yeah – sort of – I mean-"

The look she shot him was dry. "Okay; once more with feeling."

Harry swallowed, looking grim. "Erm, you wouldn't happen to have had a vision about a way for me to defeat-?"

"Shh," she hushed him, checking to make sure nobody was paying attention. The common room was still rather bare, although there were more students there now than there had been an hour before. People may have now known she was a Seer, but that didn't mean she wanted them witness it in action. She wasn't an act in a travelling freak show. "If I had, I'd have come straight to you," she reminded him.

"Great," huffed Harry. "How in the bloody _hell_ am I meant to fight off a dragon?"

"Have you been to the library?" she suggested.

His expression was so flat that Winona regretted suggesting it at all. "Where do you think I've been spending all my time recently? Hermione's practically got us living in there."

Winona said nothing, and Harry sighed, eyes on the table in front of them. He looked so young in that moment, so tired, and she felt a surge of hatred for anyone and everyone who had a hand in forcing Harry to compete in the tournament. It wasn't _fair._

"I'll go to Dumbledore," she said suddenly, spurred on by desperation. "I'll force him to take you out of the tournament."

"_Force_ him?" Harry echoed dubiously. "Winnie, you're strong, but Dumbledore's known as the most powerful Wizard in the world for a _reason._"

"Well what else are we supposed to do?" she asked. "You can't face a _dragon_, Harry. You might be the Boy-Who-Lived – but You-Know-Who didn't _breathe _fucking_ fire_!"

If the subject weren't so grim, Harry might have laughed. As it was, he didn't retort. Instead his shoulders sagged, and he looked so _tired_, like he hadn't slept properly in days. "I don't have a choice, Winnie," he said, sounding so small and sad. "Dumbledore argued for me to get out of it the night my name came out of that goblet. If he couldn't do it then, he won't be able to do it now."

"This isn't _fair,_" she groaned. "You're only a kid. They can't force you to fight a dragon against your will. It's gotta be breaking some kind of child protection law, right?"

"If there was a way out, it would already be done," he said sagely, and Winona leaned into his side, dropping her head onto his shoulder and sighing heavily. He reached up, patting her consolingly on the head.

"At least we're speaking to Sirius tonight," she said, voice a little muffled in the material of his jumper. "Talk about a silver lining."

"About that…" Harry murmured, and she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. Harry tried not to wince under her stare. "Hagrid wants to see me at midnight."

Winona didn't see the problem. "Tell him it doesn't work for you, and that you'll go see him tomorrow," she said simply. "You shouldn't be out on the grounds that late anyway."

"But Hagrid's never asked me to visit him so late before," he argued. "I think it's important." Winona wasn't convinced, and it must have been clearly written across her face. "We're not meeting Sirius until one," he reminded her. "I'll be back well before then. And if I'm a little late, it'll give you time to speak with him until I get here."

Winona sighed, burrowing into the couch cushions and giving up. "All right," she said grouchily. "Don't be late, though. And try not to get into trouble. Last time you were out on the grounds this late at night, you almost got mauled to death by a werewolf."

"Don't remind me," he grumbled, grimacing into the fire.

"Promise me you'll get back in time?" she pressed.

Harry leaned back to look at her thoughtfully. "You don't want to be alone with Sirius," he said, brow furrowed as he struggled to understand. "Why?"

Winona wanted to deny it, but didn't really see the point. "I've never been alone with him before," she told him. "I'm worried it'll be awkward."

"But he's your dad."

"Ugh," she shuddered in discomfort. "Don't use the 'D' word."

Harry cast her his most reproachful look, which was really quite impressive for someone as young as him. "Winnie, if I found out my dad was _alive_ after all these years without him, I'd wanna spend all the time I could with him," he said honestly, the words sobering to the surprised sixth year.

He was right. There were very few orphans whose parents had miraculously come back from the dead, and she wasn't exactly making the most of it. "It's just so _weird_," she confessed, leaning into him further, keeping her voice low so the passing students didn't overhear. "He's my father, he raised me for three whole years after I was a born, but now we don't even know a _single thing_ about each other. We're strangers, Harry."

Harry seemed to understand, while at the same time disagreeing. "That's why you've got to spend time with him. Get to know him. I can't always be around as an ice breaker."

Winona narrowed her eyes into slits. "Did you drink an ageing potion while I wasn't looking?" she demanded, reaching up to knock at his head playfully. "You're still only fourteen, right?" Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "How'd you get to be so wise?"

"It's not wisdom," he told her honestly. "I've spent my whole life imagining what might happen if my parents came back from the dead," he said quietly, turning his eyes to the fire, the light of the crackling flames bouncing off his glasses, making them seem to glow. "You don't know how lucky you are that it actually happened to you."

Winona stared at her cousin's sad face, taking in the tired look in his eyes and the downward tilt of his mouth. Without hesitating she shuffled closer, throwing an arm around Harry and pulling him tightly into her side. She didn't care if the other Gryffindors saw them curled up together. After admitting that, Harry needed family to hug him tight. And that was exactly what she planned to do.

As she squeezed the younger boy tightly, the corner of his mouth slowly moved up, and she didn't let go even when the frown was replaced by a tentative little smile.

That was how Fred and George found them, Winona wrapped around her cousin like an octopus, Harry looking exasperated but far from unhappy. "Aww," cooed George playfully. "Why weren't we invited to the cuddle session?"

Harry's face flushed and he squirmed until Winona relented and let go. "I'm going to find Hermione and head down to dinner," he told her as he stood to his feet. "I'll meet you here tonight?" he added meaningfully.

"You know it," she confirmed, and he nodded politely to the twins before turning and heading across the common room. The twins collapsed into his vacated seat, George beside her and Fred on his other side.

Her and Fred still weren't exactly on speaking terms – every time she thought of what he'd said to her, hurt and ire simmered beneath her skin like a potion set to boil, and she wanted to scream just to let out some of the steam gathering in her lungs – but he still kept close to her side after Skeeter's article, even despite the gaping rift between them.

"What's tonight?" George asked curiously, and she curled in on herself a little more.

Winona took a quick glance about the room, but nobody was paying them any extra attention. "We're meeting Sirius," she revealed softly.

The twins blinked in surprise. "Here? In the common room?" George asked in confusion. "How?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "S'pose I'll find out tonight. How was Hogsmeade?"

"It was great," he told her. "Cold though. We jinxed Malfoy while his back was turned. His skin's still stained blue," he sniggered.

"Nice. Did you get the goods?" she pressed hopefully.

"Way to make this feel like a drug deal, Win," he rolled his eyes even as he reached into his pocket to pull free a small, paper-wrapped parcel. "There're your Sugar Quills," he said as he passed them over. "Try to make them last this time."

"I'll do no such thing," she replied, already opening the parcel to slip free a purple one.

"You're not gonna wait till after dinner?" asked George dryly.

"Who are you, my mother?" she countered as she tore off the treat's plastic cover, sticking the end into her mouth and all but moaning at the sugary taste. She was allowed to have _one_ vice, wasn't she? Her addiction wasn't hurting anyone … except maybe her teeth.

"How are things between you and Nott?" asked Fred, speaking for the first time since he'd sat down. Winona's eyes went wide with surprise, and she leaned around George to look at him in wary confusion.

"Fred…" said George reproachfully, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Clearly he knew what was coming, and he was dreading it.

"Why?" Winona asked, the single word carefully measured.

Fred sat up straighter, like he had a ruler glued to his spine. "We just thought you might like to know we saw him snogging the life out of Piper Santiago from Ravenclaw in a booth at the Three Broomsticks today."

George looked about ready to collapse from sheer exasperation. "I thought we agreed _subtlety _was key, Fred," he muttered from the corner of his mouth, but Winona still heard.

She wasn't sure how to react, staring between the pair of them, thoughts everywhere and nowhere at once. The first thing she knew was the stab of pain she felt in the region of her chest where her heart lay. The knowledge that Jeremiah was off snogging Ravenclaws was hurtful to say the least – although not actually that surprising – and she looked away from the twins, turning her blank stare onto the crackling fire.

George and Fred were silent, and she was glad to have a moment to collect her thoughts without them prattling on. But the quiet couldn't last forever.

"Winnie?" Fred asked, sounding a lot more hesitant than before. Maybe even a little bit guilty. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied, the word a reflex. She took a breath, trying to sound less defensive. "I'm fine."

"You don't _look_ fine," said Fred slowly, blue eyes flickering over her expression, which she could feel was tense and dark.

"Jeremiah and I never said we were exclusive," she told them, brisk and short. "He's perfectly welcome to snog whomever he likes." They said nothing, and when she looked up, George looked just as unconvinced as Fred, both of them staring at her knowingly. "Hungry?" she asked them smoothly.

Expressions wary, the twins nodded their heads.

"Let me go put these Sugar Quills away, and then we can head down to dinner, yeah?"

"All right," said George carefully.

Winona stood to her feet, shouldering her art supply bag and holding her parcel of Sugar Quills close to her chest. She was glad for the moment to collect herself, taking the stairs two at a time until she reached her dorm.

Hope was sitting on her bed, three books open in front of her. Winona called a greeting, but her fellow Gryffindor barely looked up from her work, too busy struggling through her Potions essay.

Winona put away her things and then disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door securely after her and leaning her forehead against the slab of wood. She took several large, deep breaths in and out, hoping the extra air would calm her racing heart.

She was hurt … but not quite _upset._

She'd been telling the truth. Jeremiah was welcome to snog whomever he wished. She wasn't going to stop him. But she couldn't help but feel like this were some kind of attack on her. She refused him one day, and the next he was sucking face with the first of what she was sure was many in line? And Piper Santiago was one of the easiest of them all. If he wanted a quick, meaningless shag, he'd certainly gone to the right place.

She was angry – irrationally so. What did it matter? Fred had been spot on the day he'd discovered them – Jeremiah was only using her for her body anyway. It wasn't as if he were at all interested in who she was as a person.

Taking a final, steadying deep breath, Winona glanced in the mirror to check she looked okay. Her blonde hair looked ratty, and she hurriedly piled it onto her head, attempting to arrange it artfully, but ultimately giving up and splashing some cold water on her face before heading into the dorm to change from slippers to chucks, then waving to Hope and heading back down to the common room.

Fred and George hadn't moved. They were talking in low voices as she descended the stairs. Fred caught sight of her immediately and their conversation petered off. "Ready?" she asked, and they hurried to nod.

Once they stepped through the portrait hole George sped up until he was walking a few yards ahead of the other two. Winona turned to Fred expectantly, because the twins rarely ever did anything unintentionally.

Fred reached up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Sorry about how blunt I was before," he apologised stiltedly, looking anywhere but her eyes.

She thought it was ironic he were apologising for this when there were certainly far more important things he could have been begging for forgiveness over. She cut her eyes to him, narrowed and shrewd, but Fred didn't seem to notice.

"I know I could have approached it with a little more tact," he said, hands tucked deep into his pockets. "I just thought it was something you should know."

If she was holding her breath for an apology, she had a feeling she'd pass out long before it came. Her expression was rueful and tired. "It's all right," she said with a shrug, tucking her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie.

He paused, seeming to chew on his next words. "Are you okay?"

Glancing up at him, she felt a tinge of inexplicable relief when he finally met her eyes, concern shining in his own. "Really, Fred, I'm fine," she told him. "It's not like Jeremiah and I are an actual couple or anything. I couldn't care less who he snogs."

And she was surprised by her own flush of relief when she realised it was true. She really didn't care. Jeremiah could do what he liked, and it had no effect on her whatsoever. The force of the realisation was like a weight off her shoulders, and Winona stared down at her feet, enjoying the lightness in her chest. It felt an awful lot like freedom.

Fred, however, just winced, looking away as though she'd said something unsavoury. Looking back up at him, she waited for him to say something. "I guess, before this whole Nott thing, I never thought you'd be the type to…" he trailed off, not seeming to know how to word it.

That feeling of weightless freedom disappeared, replaced by a bitterness she hadn't been expecting. "Whore around?" she sniped, hands balled into fists inside her pocket. "Yeah, you made that perfectly clear."

Fred looked hurt, but she didn't particularly care how he felt. "You know I didn't mean…" he began to say, trailing off before he could finish, not seeming able to find the words.

"I think you did, Fred," she said, staring at the path ahead of them. George was walking casually, far enough away that he wouldn't be able to hear their hushed conversation. She wondered which side he would choose, should it come down to it. Would he stay by his brother's side out of loyalty, or did he think what Fred had said meant he deserved to be the one on the outs?

Fred reached for her arm, but unlike Jeremiah's hard, unforgiving grip, Fred's fingers were gentle as they wrapped around her smaller wrist and carefully turned her to face him. She reluctantly stopped walking, tilting her head back to look him in the eye.

"Look, Win, I was just so…" he trailed off again, lost for words. Winona wasn't sure she'd ever known Fred to be so speechless.

The ire in her heart began to recede, and she stared up at him, hopeful for something she didn't know how to put into words. "So what, Fred?" she asked, barely a whisper.

Fred's ears had gone pink, and his eyes seemed deeper than usual, like the sea during a storm. His fingers remained curled gently around her smaller wrist, and she wondered if he could feel her racing pulse against his fingertips. Winona waited, barely breathing at all, for him to say something. For him to say _anything._

"Fred?"

They turned as one to see Angelina walking towards them, a sour look on her face, and Fred ripped his hand away from hers in a hurry. Winona took a large step back, tucking her hands back into the front pocket of her hoodie.

Angelina's shrewd eyes darted between them, until she focused her attention on Fred. "Ready for dinner?" she asked him shortly.

Fred said nothing, just nodded his head. Angelina held her hand out to him, and Winona watched as he hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking it, looking away from Winona and letting Angelina lead him into the Great Hall.

Left standing in the entrance hall, Winona thought she was alone until she felt an arm sling around her shoulders. "He's an idiot," George told her cheerfully, beginning to angle her inside the Hall. "But so are you, so you can't exactly complain."

Winona said nothing, letting George guide her towards their table. Dinner passed without issue, and before Winona knew it they were all wandering back up through the castle to the common room. She took a seat in the corner, between Alicia and Lee, watching as Katie and Fred started up a rather intense game of Gobstones.

One by one the Gryffindors in the common room began to trudge up the stairs to bed. Their group was one of the last to disperse, all of them caught up in the competitiveness of their friends' Gobstones match.

"We really should go up to bed, guys," said Angelina as she glanced at the clock on the far wall. "It's getting late, and we have a big day tomorrow."

"But I'm too emotionally invested in this game to leave now," argued Alicia, but Katie was already beginning to yawn, so they reluctantly ended the match, giving a dramatic shake of hands and a small speech each to end what they called the 'ceremony'.

Finally Alicia, Angelina and Katie all said goodnight to the boys before turning to leave. It was Angelina who noticed Winona wasn't following.

"You coming?" she frowned.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay up and sketch some more by the fire," she told them with a nod at the bag tucked into the couch cushions at her side.

"But it's _late_, Win," complained Katie, gesturing at the clock which proclaimed it was swiftly approaching half-past ten.

"You know me," she replied flippantly. "No rest for the wicked."

The girls rolled their eyes, knowing how stubborn she could get. "All right, but try not to wake us when you eventually come to bed, yeah?" Alicia sighed – because it had happened plenty of times before.

Winona tossed her a lazy salute and they said their final goodnights. Winona looked away as Angelina leaned in to capture Fred's lips with her own, giving him a kiss that was perhaps a little too passionate for the public setting. The others looked equally as uncomfortable, turning away with rolls of their eyes.

Angelina pulled away with a small, satisfied smile, and Fred cleared his throat, not seeming to know how to react. With a final wave the girls turned and headed up the stairs to bed. Lee, Fred and George had remained where they were, lounged about in the corner of the common room they so often claimed as their own, the tips of Fred's ears stained a bright, embarrassed red.

"Well, we might as well head up too," said Lee as he stretched his arms high above his head. He paused suddenly, peering across at Winona curiously. "Unless you want company, Win?"

"Nah," she waved him off. "You'll just distract me."

Lee grinned, patted her on the head and trudged up the stairs in the direction of his dorm. This left Winona and the twins alone, and she turned to look at them curiously.

"You're not heading to bed?" she asked, tilting her head even as she began to fish out her sketchbook and a small selection of pastel pencils.

The twins exchanged a meaningful look, communicating in the way that only they could. "We thought we'd stay up with you," Fred eventually said, looking away from George to meet her eyes, "so that way, you don't have to speak with Sirius alone."

He looked almost desperate, and she figured he was searching for a way to make up for the things he'd said in recent days past. But this wasn't what would fix it. She wasn't even sure anything could.

Winona waved them away. "Thank you," she told them quietly. "But I think, as hard as it may be, this is something I have to do alone. I have to learn how to speak to the guy at some point, right? Might as well start now."

The twins didn't looked convinced. "If you're sure…" said George slowly.

Winona smiled at him fondly. "I'm sure," she promised. "Really, though, thank you for offering."

They gave her identical smiles, standing to their feet and beginning to make for the door leading to their dorm. Fred paused by her chair, hesitating and debating his next words. "If anything happens … if you need me – us – then you'll come up to our dorm?"

She'd have Harry with her, and she was sure he'd be plenty enough support by himself, but she didn't say that to Fred, merely nodding her head. But he knew her too well, knowing the look in her eyes meant no. With a sigh, he turned away. "All right. G'night."

"Night," she replied, and then they were gone, disappearing up to their dorm.

Winona relocated to the couch by the fire because it was the most comfortable. She grabbed the throw that was slung over the back of the couch, tucking it around her for extra warmth then settling in for a few hours of sketching.

She worked contentedly on the piece of the Quidditch team, adding more concrete lines, then beginning on the colouring. It was nice to see them all, even in drawing form. She missed the school's Quidditch matches. She may not have been on the team, but she loved to go down to the pitch, kiss the twins on the cheek for good luck and watch them kick some arse on their brooms.

Winona kept one eye on the clock, watching as the minutes passed slowly.

Eleven thirty … twelve … twelve thirty … twelve fifty-five…

Harry still hadn't appeared, and Winona spun in a circle as if she may spot him lurking in a corner. She was just beginning to get worried about him when there was a low coughing from the fireplace.

Spinning on her heel with her heart in her throat, Winona peered into the flames, suddenly understanding exactly how they were going to be speaking with Sirius – and really, she should have figured it out much sooner.

Sirius' head was floating in the crackling flames, and there was the slightest hint of a smile on his face. His eyes remained deep and haunted, but Winona knew that was from all the taxing years he'd spent in Azkaban, rather than having anything to do with her.

"Winona," he greeted her, saying her name with great relief – like until that moment, he'd been holding his breath. Winona thought that, in many ways, so had she. She quickly scanned the room to be absolutely certain they were alone before kneeling at the fireplace, tentative but admittedly a little excited.

"Most people call me Winnie, you know," she told him quietly, resting her hands on her knees and smiling hesitantly.

"Winnie," he corrected himself, and his smile seemed to grow. His eyes – exactly like hers – flickered around the room. "Harry?" he asked, smile giving way to a frown of concern.

"He'll be here," she assured him, and Sirius seemed to believe her, nodding his head. "How've you been?" she asked, noting that the gaunt, malnourished look his face had held last time she'd seen him wasn't completely gone. He certainly looked better, though. Not quite so haunted.

"I'm fine," he told her dismissively, as if his own wellbeing didn't matter. "How are you? Is everything okay at school?"

She smiled, a little wry. "I wouldn't say things are 'okay'," she said with a sarcastic laugh. "My cousin's being forced to compete in a tournament that could very well kill him, and the entire school now knows I'm a Seer, and is _punishing _me for it, and things with my best friend in the world are iffy at best."

She was rambling a bit now, and she had to take a mental step back. Sirius wasn't her therapist; he was barely even her father.

"Yes, I did manage to see Skeeter's article," he said, and the bottomless look to his fiery eyes only grew. "I didn't know you were a Seer until I read it."

Winona winced, realising she hadn't even _considered_ that Sirius was going to find out along with the rest of the world. It had been something she'd wanted to tell him herself. "I was going to tell you in person – next time I saw you," she said apologetically, and just a little bit awkwardly. "It didn't feel like something I could just drop into a letter."

Sirius smiled sadly, and she knew why. He wasn't sad she didn't tell him – he was sad that he hadn't been around to know sooner. He was sad that he hadn't been a part of her life before now. "So, you see the future?" he asked, and she couldn't blame him for wanting to know more.

"I _draw_ the future," she corrected thinly. "It's rather complicated."

"Your mother was always guessing what was going to happen before it actually did," he told her, a fond sort of nostalgia to his voice. "I wouldn't have called her a Seer – she didn't magically _know_ the future – but she always seemed _sensitive_ to her inner eye."

Talking about her mother wasn't an easy thing for Winona to do. She didn't like it at all; it only left her all the more aware of the gaping hole in her life where her mother should have been. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Winona tried to act like the words weren't a knife cutting through her tendons.

"So maybe it runs in the family?" she asked quietly.

"Maybe," he allowed, matching her volume.

There was a moment of easy quiet. "Where are you?" she asked curiously. "How'd you get hold of a fireplace to use?"

Sirius' expression turned sheepish. "Uh, I broke into a wizarding house to use their Floo," he confessed, and looked stunned when Winona only snorted.

"Breaking and entering," she chuckled. "Badass. I like it."

"Desperate times, and all."

"Well, you're already branded as a criminal," she joked wryly, "you might as well earn the title."

Her comment surprised him, and he laughed. She liked the sound, it made it hard to believe he'd been locked away in a wizarding prison, surrounded by the foulest creatures to walk the earth for twelve years. That place had robbed him of his youth – of his family – but it hadn't taken his spirit. Not entirely.

She was struck, suddenly, by how easy this all was. It wasn't hard to talk to Sirius – in fact it came startlingly natural. She felt their connection even through the flames, and it reminded her of the way she'd felt about Harry when they'd first met – connected in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was comforting, and warmth spread through her veins, lighting her face up with a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry I haven't written more," he said suddenly. Winona blinked at him, surprised by the apology.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You've been on the run. I don't imagine you have parchment and ink just laying around."

Sirius shook his head. "It's still no excuse," he said quietly. "I think I just…I wasn't sure what to say. I mean, what _can_ I say to make up for twelve years of missed…everything?"

Winona sighed, leaning a little bit closer. "You don't need to make up for anything," she told him honestly. "The important thing is that you're here _now._ So just _be_ here."

Sirius hesitated. "I don't know how to be a dad," he confessed.

"I don't know how to be a daughter," she admitted. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out as we go."

Sirius smiled, but before she could think of something else to say, the portrait hole opened, its sound echoing throughout the empty common room. "Harry?" asked Sirius quickly, panic flashing on his face.

A moment later her cousin tripped into view. "It's him," she confirmed so he wouldn't worry about being seen, and Harry rushed to their side, relief in his bright green eyes.

He fell to his knees with a thump, but he barely seemed to feel it, staring at Sirius intently. "Sirius — how're you doing?" he asked hurriedly.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius countered.

Winona watched as Harry began to say that he was fine, only to cut himself off and rethink his answer. And then he was talking, and Winona realised just how much he must have been keeping inside as it all came out to Sirius in that moment. Like a torrent, the words poured from his mouth. Winona watched Sirius' reaction as Harry told him all about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, and how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, and how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at, and also about his friendship with Ron, and how frustrated he was by the behaviour of the guy who was supposed to be his _best friend._

"…and the other day Winnie had a vision of the first task being dragons, and now Hagrid's just _shown_ me the things, and, Sirius – I'm a goner," he finished in a panic, eyes wide and hands very nearly shaking.

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here … I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about," said Sirius, steady and sure as he took in his Godson and his daughter, both staring at him, loyally awaiting his instruction.

"What?" asked Harry, voice full of a mounting dread.

"Karkaroff," said Sirius flatly. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

Harry had never looked more perplexed. "Yes," he answered shortly, brow furrowed so low it was nearly hidden behind his glasses. "But – he – what?" he spluttered in confusion.

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year – to keep an eye on him," Sirius told them quickly. "Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"No wonder Karkaroff hates Moody so much," Winona murmured, thinking about Karkaroff's hate-filled glowers in Moody's direction over the last few weeks.

"Karkaroff got released?" asked Harry slowly, bewildered by the news. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius replied, his tone bitter and dark, telling them exactly what he thought of the whole thing. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names … he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place. He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well," he warned.

"Krum," Winona nodded, turning her eyes to Harry. "He may be an idiot, but he could definitely do some damage in the right circumstances," she added, and Harry began to turn just a little bit green.

"But, wait … are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet?" Harry asked warily, sounding about as sick as he looked. "Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," said Sirius darkly, "because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry-"

"-you and the rest of the world," muttered Harry bitterly. "Did you see the article on Winnie?"

"I did," Sirius said quickly, eyes clouding at the reminder of what Skeeter had done to his daughter. But then he was back on task, continuing with all the ferocity of a charging bull. "But more to the point – reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"So, what are you saying?" asked Harry slowly. Winona glanced at the clock, and seeing the late hour, she knew he must have been approaching exhaustion. "That Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But – why?"

"I'd like to know that too, actually," Winona said, looking back at Sirius' floating head. The flames were hot on her face, but she leaned closer still, watching as he hesitated in what he was going to say next.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he said lowly. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark … and then – did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

Winona hadn't – at least, she couldn't remember hearing about it – but Harry apparently had.

"Bertha Jorkins?" he asked in surprise.

"Exactly … she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumoured to be last … and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

Winona wasn't sure why this was important, and she almost felt like an audience member on the edge of her seat to find out. "Yeah, but…" Harry hesitated, slowly putting it together, "it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?"

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," said Sirius grimly. "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

Winona didn't like the sound of this at all.

"So … so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" Harry deduced, horror beginning to sink in, eyes darkening with anger and confusion. "Is that what you mean?"

Winona understood now, piecing it together herself. "But surely Dumbledore wouldn't let Karkaroff step foot inside these walls if he suspected–" she began to say.

"_If_ he suspected," Sirius interjected meaningfully, and she let out a sharp breath. She had a lot of issues with Dumbledore, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that he wouldn't knowingly put this school or its students in danger – _particularly _not she or Harry. Like it or not, they were far too valuable to his agenda to let anything bad happen to them.

"So, are you saying that you think Karkaroff might be here on Voldemort's orders?" Harry pressed, struggling to process this information.

"I don't know," Sirius replied stiltedly. "I just don't know … Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

A shiver zinged down Winona's spine, and she grit her teeth against the feeling of a strange, lingering _something_ in the aether of time that she wore as a constant companion. Like her inner eye was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't quite see what it was. Not yet.

"Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing," said Harry with a wry, tired kind of grin. And it was true – evil infiltrating the school on a mission to kill him? It was sort of old hat by now. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff," he said bleakly.

"Right – these dragons," said Sirius quickly. "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell – dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon."

"Yeah, I know, I just saw," said Harry thinly, and Winona wondered exactly what had happened down at Hagrid's Hut.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius told him. "There is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just-"

But both Winona and Harry whipped around as one, catching the low sound of footsteps on the staircase behind them. Winona climbed quickly to her feet, shifting so she was stood between Harry and Sirius and whoever it was coming down the stairs.

"Go!" Harry hissed at Sirius from behind her. "Go! There's someone coming!"

Harry climbed to his feet too. There was a tiny pop in the fire behind them and they knew Sirius had gone. Winona felt his disappearance like a loss. She missed him already, and could only hope they'd get another chance to talk face-to-face sometime soon.

She looked up to see Ron appearing at the foot of the stairs, his maroon pyjamas impossible to miss, even in the darkened room. Winona could have cussed – whether he and Harry were in a row or not, he never would have told anyone that Sirius had been at Hogwarts (however briefly). And that meant that Sirius could have stayed longer. She grit her teeth in frustration.

"Who were you talking to?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"What's that got to do with you?" Harry snarled back, and Winona turned him, surprised by the venom in his voice. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I just wondered where you-" Ron broke off, shrugging. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" Harry shouted combatively. Winona reached out, gently touching her cousin on the arm.

"Harry, he didn't know–" she whispered so the redhead couldn't hear, but Ron was now just as fired up as Harry.

"Sorry about that," spat Ron, his face turning red in his anger. "Should've realised you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

Harry seized something small and round off the table to their left and launched it as hard as he could across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off. Winona stared, wide-eyed, unsure what to do.

"There you go," Harry hissed. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now if you're lucky … That's what you want, isn't it?"

He strode across the room toward the stairs, and Winona trailed after him. "Harry," she tried to say.

"Not now, Winona," he replied, short and sharp, before disappearing up the stairs to his dorm.

Ron stood in the middle of the common room, staring after Harry in something like shock. "We were talking with Sirius," Winona revealed before she could talk herself out of it.

"What?" Ron asked dumbly.

"Just now, we were talking to Sirius in the Floo," she explained slowly. "That's why he's so pissed. You interrupted us." Ron grimaced, looking away from Winona, not seeming to know what to say. "You shouldn't be so hard on him," she couldn't help but add. "He didn't ask for any of this, Ron. And you don't get to be a dick just because you're jealous."

Ron said nothing, which surprised Winona, as she'd been expecting him to argue. She sighed, deciding to just give up and go to bed. She felt tired enough that she might actually get some sleep, for once.

"Night, Ron," she said, turning and heading up the stairs, the call of her mattress overwhelming.

Winona slept surprisingly well and woke late the next day. It was Sunday, so she stayed lounging in bed for a lot longer than was advised, enjoying the warmth of her covers and halfheartedly dozing until there was simply no more sleep left in her.

She dressed warmly, and as she was tugging on her shoes the door opened and Alicia walked in.

"Oh good, you're finally up," she said with just a hint of teasing. "It's almost lunch, y'know?"

"It's the sabbath," Winona retorted. "It's the one day of the week we're _expected_ to sleep in."

"Pretty sure that's not what that means," Alicia rolled her eyes.

"Let me have this," Winona replied, lacing her left shoe and climbing to her feet. "You said it's nearly lunch?"

"I was just grabbing a jumper before heading down," she said, fishing in her trunk a moment before pulling out a pretty pink sweater, pulling it on over her top. "You coming?" she asked, heading for the door.

Winona followed Alicia down the stairs, greeting the others as they saw her, all of them flowing towards the portrait hole to head for the Great Hall.

When they got down there, the first thing Winona did was look along the Gryffindor table for any sign of Harry. After a few moments, it was clear he wasn't there, and so she sat down beside George instead, frowning to herself as she chose a banana muffin from the pile.

Her friends chattered around her, idly contemplating what the First Task was going to be on Tuesday. Unfortunately, it wasn't long until they turned to Winona, remembering what they'd only just recently learned about her abilities.

"Go on then, Winnie," said Lee eagerly, leaning forwards in his seat. "If anyone's going to know what the First Task is going to be, it's you."

Distracted and defensive, Winona frowned. "Why me?" she asked dumbly.

The others stared back at her as though she'd lost her marbles. "Because, apparently, you see the future?" said Lee slowly, like he were dealing with an idiot.

"_Apparently_," she echoed with a scowl.

"Well, we've yet to actually see this talent in action, have we?" he countered, and she had to admit he had a point there. She took a bite of her muffin, saying nothing. "So?" he pressed, and she looked back up at him dryly. He was eyeing her with eager impatience.

"So?" she parroted tonelessly.

"Can you look into future and tell us what the First Task is going to be?" he asked, voice tight with exasperation. He knew she was making him work for it, but she didn't care.

"I don't need to," she told him, and the others all looked over at her in surprise.

"You don't wanna know?" asked Alicia curiously. "Not even for Harry's sake?"

Winona lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug. "I already know," she confessed, and the group fell utterly silent. She looked up, bewildered by the reaction.

"You already know what the First Task is going to be?" asked George from beside her, and she glanced over at him, nodding when she met his eyes. "And you didn't tell us?" he asked in more of a whine than anything else. "_Them_ I can understand," he added, jerking his head in the direction of the others before gesturing to himself and Fred, "but _us_?"

Winona rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "It was only the other day I found out," she assured him.

"Well?" Fred pressed, leaning forwards, the excitement coming off him in waves. "What is it?"

"I'm not telling."

"What?" his face fell, and she almost felt guilty for it. "Why not?"

"So that you'll be just as surprised as everyone else," she explained.

"Come on, Win," groaned George, tugging at her arm like a sulky, impatient child might tug at their parent.

"Yeah, Win, come on," chimed Fred immediately, shooting her a wide, charming grin from where he sat opposite her, beside a frowning Angelina. "How can you say no to a smile like this?" he asked sweetly, and although the argument was ridiculous, she did have to silently concede that his smile was awfully convincing.

To cover the wave of affection she felt at the sight of it, she arranged her features into something resembling annoyance. "I'm not a magic 8-ball, you know," she snarked. "You can't just shake me and expect to get answers."

Most of the group had no idea what she was talking about; except for Alicia, the only one of them to be a Muggleborn, and to understand the reference. She snorted into her blueberry muffin, and Winona looked to her with a small smirk.

Lee disappointedly grumbled something about impossible women, and the twins quickly got distracted by a passing group of fifth years wearing bandanas as if in some sort of gang, calling out teasing insults about their fashion choices like a pair of girls.

"D'you know where Harry is, today?" Winona leaned across the table to ask Katie and Alicia.

They shook their heads. "Haven't seen him since breakfast," said Katie with a shrug. "Wonder how he's doing?" she mused. "It must be a lot of pressure, this whole Tournament thing."

"He's all right," Winona told her quietly. "It's not that much more pressure than he's had any other year," she added, recalling his first, second _and_ third year all being just _slightly_ more stressful than the typical Hogwarts student's. "But it still isn't easy on him. I think he's terrified. He doesn't want to do this, and they're making him. It's wrong," she said vehemently.

"Y'know, you've always been really protective over Harry?" Alicia said, tone echoing her surprise.

"He's a good kid," she said, scanning the Great Hall again, searching for his head of unruly black hair. "Which is why I wanna find him, make sure he's okay after last night."

"What happened last night?" asked Katie innocently.

Realising her slip, Winona hurried to wave a hand casually, as though pushing aside the question. "Nothing," she said as convincingly as she could. "He's just had a rough few weeks." She popped the last morsel of her muffin into her mouth and stood to her feet, swiping a shiny red apple from the stack on the table as she moved. "I'll see you guys later on."

Katie and Alicia waved in farewell just as Lee and Angelina roped them into what she was sure was a riveting conversation about their Herbology homework. Winona tapped George on the top of his orange hair as she passed, and he batted at her hand with a low grumble that made her smirk.

Ron was sitting with Seamus and Dean further along the table, and when Winona dropped into place beside him he started with a low yelp of surprise. "You see where Harry went earlier?" she asked without preamble, giving him no time to recover.

Ron's expression immediately shuttered, and he scowled at her like she'd just said something offensive. "No. How should I know?" he asked grouchily.

"Chill, I'm just asking," she replied, rolling her eyes before turning to the other boys expectantly. "Either of you seen him, or are you pretending he doesn't exist, too?"

Dean snorted at her words, while Seamus eyed her with annoyance. "On my way down to lunch I saw he and Hermione heading into the library," Dean told her easily, not seeming to be as combative as his friends. "Try looking there?"

"Thank you, Dean," she said primly, shifting her eyes at the other two judgementally. "At least one of you has manners."

Ron said nothing, staring down at his roast beef sandwich moodily. Winona rolled her eyes, sweeping to her feet and leaving for the library.

It was mostly empty, what with everyone being down at lunch, so the two fourth years were relatively easy to find amongst the towering stacks. After creeping past Madam Pince, hiding her forbidden snack from sight, Winona plopped down in the chair beside her cousin, who jerked in surprise at her sudden appearance. "Whatcha reading?" she asked him curiously, taking a noisy bite of her apple.

With a small groan that told her exactly how little he wanted to be there in that moment, Harry lifted the thick tome in front of him so she could see the cover.

_Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed._

"Strange choice of reading material," she quipped, and Harry sighed, sinking lower in his chair. Winona leant forwards, eyeing the page he was on. "_Instant scalping_," she read aloud, eyebrow quirking up in surprise. "And who're we scalping?" she asked him cheerfully.

"A dragon, hopefully," he replied lowly.

Winona frowned. "But they don't have any hair."

Harry groaned again, letting his head drop until his forehead banged against the page, the sound echoing throughout the empty library. "I'm going to die," he said, gloomy and without hope.

"Well, probably, with that attitude," she agreed. He sighed, sitting up straight and pulling off his glasses, reaching up to rub tiredly at his eyes. "Where's 'Mione?" she asked moments before the frizzy-haired girl herself appeared from the aisle over, two thick tomes held in her arms.

"Right here," she said, dropping the heavy books down on the table, a swirl of dust particles thrown up into the air. "You can't eat that in here," she added disapprovingly, beady eyes narrowing at the sight of the apple she held in her hand.

Winona didn't deem that worthy of a response. "I assume you've scoured the entire dragon section from top to bottom," she said plainly. Hermione nodded. "And?"

"Nothing."

"Dammit," Winona sunk a little in her seat, slouching back against the wood. "So you have no idea what Sirius was trying to say before he got cut off?"

"None," Hermione confirmed grimly. "We've looked through every book I can think of. At first we tried books specifically on dragons, but because Sirius said it was a simple spell, we decided to look through some basic spell books, hoping to find something there."

"And no luck?"

"None." There was a beat. "Winnie – you're a sixth year," said Hermione suddenly, and Winona looked back up in surprise. "Have you learnt anything in any of your NEWT classes that would work against a dragon?"

"Bold of you to assume I pay any attention in class at all, 'Mione," Winona joked wryly. Hermione shot her a look that was entirely unamused, and Winona silently reminded herself to know her audience. "Look, don't you think that if I knew how to defeat a dragon, I would have told Harry already?" she asked, and Hermione had to concede the point.

"I'm going to die," Harry groaned again, his voice muffled by the parchment of the book he had his face pressed against.

"You're not going to die," said Hermione sternly, as if she could keep him alive by sheer determination alone. Winona appreciated her resolve, and wished it was enough to work.

She sighed, patting her cousin reassuringly on the back, trying to offer him some weak form of comfort in this trying time. "Come on," she said after taking another bite of her apple. "Put me to work. Three heads are better than two, am I right?"

"Oh no," said Hermione, sounding very distressed.

Offended, Winona turned to frown at her defensively. "I'm not _totally_ hopeless, you know."

"No, not that," Hermione tutted, thrusting her chin to the left in a gesture that told Winona to look. "It's Krum – he's back again."

And she was right, Viktor Krum was slouching into the library, hands stuffed into his pockets. He cast them an intent look with his dark, beady eyes, then settled into a seat nearby.

"Why can't he read on his stupid ship?" Hermione would have insisted it wasn't a whine, but it definitely was. "Come on, you two," she said primly, already picking up her stack of books and nodding for Winona to take the ones that remained, "we'll go back to the common room … his fan club'll be here in a moment, twittering away…"

Winona wasn't sure why this was such a big deal, but she knew better than to argue with Hermione Granger, picking up her designated books and following them out into the corridor back towards Gryffindor Tower.

They spent the night looking through more books, but came up with nothing. Harry tapped out first, proclaiming it to be useless and heading up to bed. Winona and Hermione stayed down a little while longer, stubbornly searching some more, before they too had to concede the same. There wasn't anything in these books that would help Harry defeat a dragon.

Winona was beginning to feel rather hopeless, a cloud of anxiety hovering around her head as she moved from Arithmancy to Defence Against the Dark Arts the next day. George pestered her to tell him what was on her mind, but she refused to budge, knowing she'd have to tell him about the dragons to explain.

Despite trusting the twins implicitly, she didn't want to tell them what the First Task was going to be. Partly for the surprise of it all, and partly because she didn't want to be the one to spill the secret. The less people who knew, the better.

She was surprised, then, when on her way to lunch she was yanked out of the corridor and into an empty classroom. Her first thought was that it was Jeremiah, and her pulse thundered in her ears. When she spun around, however, it was to find Harry and Hermione staring at her, their eyes round and hopeful.

"Oh," she said, both relieved and disappointed to find it was only them. "What's up?"

"We've figured out what to do about the dragon," said Harry, a spark of life in his eyes that hadn't been there the night before. It was nice to see, although somewhat curious.

"You found something?"

"With a little help from Professor Moody," said Hermione, and Harry nodded quickly.

"Well?" Winona pressed. "Don't leave me in suspense."

"I'll use a Summoning Charm," Harry told her eagerly. "Moody said to play to my strengths, and what am I best at?"

"Defeating You-Know-Who?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's a great _flyer,_" Hermione said exasperatedly.

Winona pieced it together. "You want to summon your broom?" she asked, eyebrows raised, impressed by the plan.

"It's the only way," Harry insisted, and while Winona wasn't sure that was true, it was a very clever solution to their problem.

"And Moody told you this?"

"He hinted at it."

"Okay, so what do you need me for?" she asked, realising that they had to have brought her here for a reason.

"Well, I only just learnt the Summoning Charm myself, but I'm by no means an expert," said Hermione carefully. "Harry didn't manage to perform it in class. So he needs someone to teach him properly."

"Me? You want _me_ to teach you?" she asked Harry dubiously. "They call me the Queen of Coasting for a reason, you know."

"But you got an O in your Charms OWL," Hermione argued.

Winona blinked in surprise. "How'd you know that?"

"Ginny told me."

"How'd _Ginny_ know?"

"Fred told her."

Winona wasn't sure why Fred would be telling Ginny her OWLs results, but she rolled her eyes at his loose lips anyway. "Look, Harry, I'm not a great teacher," she said carefully. "I barely have the patience to teach _myself _anything, let alone someone else."

Harry stepped closer, eyes wide and begging. "Please, Winnie," he pleaded with her desperately. "Me learning how to properly cast a Summoning Charm is now _literally_ life or death."

Despite her reservations, Winona knew she couldn't say no. He was right. This was life or death, and Harry would be getting hurt in this Tournament over her dead body. "All right," she agreed. "Sorry for being difficult," she added quickly. "I tend to rebel against responsibility."

"I've noticed," said Harry wryly.

"I'll race down to lunch, bring us back some food," offered Hermione, already heading for the door.

"We're starting _now_?" Winona blinked in surprise.

The look Harry sent her was utterly flat. "I only have until tomorrow afternoon to learn," he reminded her quickly. "Every minute counts."

And yeah, he was right. "Bring me two ham sandwiches and something sweet, please, 'Mione," Winona said to the other girl. "Oh, and could you let the twins know where I am? They'll think the worst if I don't turn up for lunch."

Hermione nodded obediently, slipping from the empty, disused classroom, making sure the door was shut securely after her.

Winona pulled out her wand, the wood warm and smooth against her skin, and turned to begin. Harry was already waiting, ready to learn, and Winona felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her gut.

"You sure I'm the best person to do this, Harry?" she asked tentatively.

Harry levelled her with a sincere look. "There's no one I'd trust more."

Winona smiled, his words warming her up inside. "All right then, Boy Wonder," she said evenly, shifting her weight from foot to foot in eager preparation. "Let's do this."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for your response on the last chapter, guys. Every review means the world to me, and hearing what you guys do and don't like about each chapter makes me better as a writer, so thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**I don't really celebrate Valentines Day, but I wanted to wish you all a happy one nonetheless. Tell the people you care about that you love them, today and every other. Be kind to one another.**

**Review of the week goes to _bridget237_ – thanks for your review! It was important to me that this wasn't just a Fred/OC love story, but also a story about a real girl growing up in the wizarding world, and figuring out who she is and where she fits in. I'm glad you're enjoying her characterisation, and even her mistakes. It's all part of being human, and she's still so young. She still has a lot to learn.**


	37. You just decide it's over?

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this chapter. A brief warning for Jeremiah content ahead – but I promise it's brief and pretty much the last we'll see of him in such an intimate capacity. I think you'll all be very proud of the decisions Winona ultimately makes by the end of this chapter. I know I am.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

By three AM that morning, Harry had seemed to have mastered the Summoning Charm. It wasn't as easy as it sounded, but he'd gotten there in the end. They'd gone to bed, and when Winona woke up she went from Transfiguration and then onto Herbology in a daze.

"Win," said Fred in her ear, snapping her from her stupor. She blinked up at him to see him staring pointedly at Professor Sprout, who in turn was staring at her.

"Sorry, Professor," Winona said awkwardly. "I didn't hear the question."

Sprout looked less than impressed. "I know we have mere hours until the First Task, but right now you're still in class. At least _try _to focus on extracting the Snargaluff pods without getting an eye gauged out," she said dryly, addressing the whole class while her eyes remained focused on Winona, who nodded obediently, although her mind had already yet again strayed.

"You know, worrying this much is only going to give you an ulcer," Fred murmured to her as they all filed out of the Herbology class some half hour later. George was on her other side, nodding his vehement agreement.

"You'd be just as much of a wreck if it were George," she told him simply, something he couldn't deny.

"Aren't you at least a little excited?" George asked, as though struggling to believe this was anything other than thrilling.

"No."

The Great Hall was full of an excited, hyper energy that immediately began to buzz under Winona's skin like a kind of electrical current. She abandoned Fred and George without a word, moving to Harry's side where he sat across from Hermione and Ginny.

She couldn't help but note the relief that crossed his face when he caught sight of her. "Hey," she greeted him quietly. He didn't even bother attempting a smile in return. "Has he eaten anything?" she asked the girls, knowing they were less likely to lie.

"No," said Ginny, her eyes stern as she watched Harry fret. "Not a thing."

Winona was already making him up a bowl of fruit salad, making sure to add extra banana for energy, sprinkling it with nuts for protein. "I'm not hungry, Winnie," he said dully, but she ignored him, pressing the bowl into his hands and beginning to make herself up one too.

"Remember your first Quidditch match, first year?" she asked instead. "You didn't want to eat then, but now you know that a good meal before something big always helps, right?"

"It's just more to throw up," he muttered, pushing the bowl away.

"You feel sick?" she asked, tempted to reach for his forehead. Maybe if he was sick he wouldn't have to compete. What a blessing that would be.

"Yeah, but it's only nerves," he replied, seeming to think the same.

"Please eat just a few spoonfuls?" she pleaded, leaning in and widening her eyes hopefully. "For me?"

"Winnie, I'm really not hungry––"

"Harry Potter, you do as you're told," said Ginny from opposite them, her voice stern and uncompromising. Harry blinked in surprise as she glared at him in warning. Reluctant and maybe just a tiny bit afraid, the Boy-Who-Lived reached for his bowl, beginning to eat the food within.

_Thank you,_ Winona mouthed at Ginny, who smiled slightly in reply, although her eyes remained sad and concerned.

Winona seemed to only blink before McGonagall appeared before them, staring down at Harry apologetically. "Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now," she told him, dread lacing her tone. "You have to get ready for your first task."

Harry took a moment to chew his last piece of watermelon, slowly nodding his head. "Okay," he said, reluctantly pushing away his near-empty bowl and standing to his feet.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered from across the table. "You'll be fine!" she said, but it was a weak assurance at best.

"Yeah," replied Harry dully.

Winona stood to her feet after Harry, and before he could protest she brought him into an embrace, holding him to her tightly. He was the same height as her now, but still so young, she thought. She thought Harry might pull away in embarrassment – she was clutching him like a little kid in the middle of the Great Hall, after all – but instead he only gripped her tighter.

McGonagall seemed to realise they needed a moment, edging away to give them the illusion of privacy.

"Remember what I taught you about the charm," she whispered, hugging him tightly, trying to show him how much she loved him through the strength of her squeeze alone. "Take deep breaths. Ignore the crowd and focus on what you need to do."

"Battle a dragon," he muttered into her shoulder.

"Exactly," she whispered back. "You'll get through this, Boy Wonder," she added encouragingly.

"Thanks," he said quietly, pulling away and stepping back, dread glittering in his emerald green gaze.

"And Harry?" she said before he could leave. He turned back, waiting expectantly. "Love ya," she told him sincerely, hoping to convey the depth of her affection for him in a single glance. He was her family, and despite only knowing him under four years, he meant the whole world to her. He was as much a part of her as Fred, or George, or even Sirius.

Harry seemed to understand, cracking the tiniest, tiniest hint of a smile. "You too, Win," he told her genuinely before turning and reluctantly following after a glassy-eyed McGonagall.

Winona turned back to the Gryffindor table, seeing Ginny and Hermione looking up at her, their own concern for Harry shining in their eyes. But they weren't what she needed. They weren't _who_ she needed.

"I'll be back," she told them, unsure whether or not it was true. They seemed to get it, turning back to their meals as Winona walked further up the table to where two tall, flaming heads of red hair stood out amongst the crowd.

Fred was already looking at her, having seen her farewell to Harry, and without saying a word he shuffled to the side to let Winona slip into place between he and George. She didn't care that Angelina was frowning like she smelt something bad, or that half the school were staring at her expectantly, or that a million unsaid things still hovered between she and Fred like curses waiting to be plucked from the air.

Fred lifted an arm, wrapping it around her shoulders and letting her burrow into his side. He ran hotter than she did, and she wrapped her own arms around his middle, pressing her palm to his chest. She could feel the heat of his skin even through his shirt, and it somehow warmed her from the inside out.

She drew comfort from him like one might draw heat from a fire, or peace from the sight of the stars. She didn't bother eating any more, just leaning against Fred in silence. It was like nothing had ever gone wrong between them, like that lingering tension had evaporated, leaving her feeling nothing but secure and loved.

Fred continued talking animatedly with George, Lee and Alicia, using his free hand to gesture wildly, as though he didn't have a short blonde girl latched onto him like a koala bear latched onto a tree. Angelina said nothing, but Winona didn't care what she thought. She just needed Fred.

"Attention, if you please!" came Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice, amplified by a hundred with the use of his wand. The Hall instantly fell dead silent, everyone turning to look at where the Charms professor was stood on a chair up at the teacher's table. "If you'll all follow Professor Hagrid calmly down to the grounds, the first task is set to begin in thirty minutes!"

Hagrid was stood at the door leading to the entrance hall, and almost as one the student body lifted from their seats, abandoning their meals to flood in the giant man's direction.

"Ready, Win?" asked Fred, the arm that had remained locked around her shoulders tightening, his thumb brushing the flesh of her upper arm, an afterthought.

"As I'll ever be," she muttered, the words almost lost in the sea of chatter that had appeared around them. Fred stood to his feet, gently bringing Winona with him, and then they and the rest of their friends followed the flow of the crowd in the direction of the doors, which Hagrid had disappeared through.

The grounds were a little chilly, and she tugged at the sleeves of her jumper, wishing she'd thought to bring gloves. Her worry over Harry skyrocketed the closer they got to the tent. It was tall and white, and their group followed the flow of the crowd through the flaps, up into the stands.

The stands were arranged in an oval shape, much like the ones of the Quidditch Pitch, only on a slightly smaller scale. In the middle was a deep pit full of rocks and dirt, and Winona felt her chest tighten at the thought of Harry being down there, alone, with a _dragon_.

She and her friends settled against a railing somewhere in the middle of the stands, leaning over it and talking animatedly about the upcoming task.

But Winona didn't talk with them. Almost unthinking, her mind drifted away from the present. It was like an instinct to search for Harry's future, see if he'd survive the fight and pass the task.

She wondered if it was somehow considered cheating, but she also knew she didn't care.

The arena disappeared from her eyes, which clouded over as she frantically searched the aether for the possibilities that hung in the near future. She didn't have her herbal candles to help push her inner eye to see more, but she was desperate enough that she almost felt she didn't need them.

Although she couldn't see anything, she could still hear the hum of excited chatter happening around her, and still feel Fred's arm, which remained slung comfortingly over her shoulders. "Where've you gone?" came his voice in her ear.

"About an hour into the future," she replied, utterly honest, hands gripping the strap of her ever-present bag, ready to whip out her supplies at a moment's notice.

"What do you see?" he asked, still keeping his voice quiet, intimate. She found she liked it, but there was no time to ponder that.

"I don't know. I can't trigger a proper vision in this environment," she told him, frustrated.

"Too loud?"

"Among other things," she muttered.

She was in a haze, possibilities drifting just out of reach. She got too close to one, and could almost feel the heat of a dragon's breath against her skin. She flinched backwards, blinking back to reality, the arena reappearing before her once more.

"Anything?" Fred asked hopefully.

"Nothing," she sighed, reaching up to rub at the ache that had appeared over her eyes.

"He'll be okay, Win," he told her reassuringly.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," added George, seeming to materialise on her other side, although she was sure he'd been there this whole time and she'd just been too distracted to notice. "He's the Boy-Who-_Lived,_ after all. Not the Boy-Who-Died."

Winona couldn't help but smile, rolling her eyes at the twins' humour just as Bagman's magically amplified voice echoed throughout the stands, welcoming them all and officially beginning the task.

The first dragon appeared, and the crowd gasped as one. "Dragons?!" shouted the twins over the roar of the spectators. "They're facing _dragons_?!"

"Now do you see the reason for my stress?" she asked wryly, eyes clouding over again even as Diggory stepped out into the arena to face his beast. Winona liked Cedric, he was kind and polite – so very _Hufflepuff – _but she was more concerned with Harry's future than she was with whatever was going to happen to him.

"You're really not going to watch?" asked Fred above the noise of the crowd.

"Forgive me for not finding this as thrilling as you are, but my cousin's life is on the line," she reminded him sharply.

"Harry's going to be _fine, _Winnie," said George, voice layered with exasperation. "Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to him."

"Besides, not like there's anything you can do to effect the outcome from up here," added Fred rationally. "Come on – these are dragons. _Real_ dragons, right in front of us! Don't spend the whole show lost in the sea of time, or whatever it is you call it."

Winona sighed, pulling out of the murky haze of any potential futures and focusing back on the task just as Cedric began his first move against his dragon.

Diggory transfigured a boulder into a Labrador, and the dragon nearly went after it before it realised it was a ruse and dove for Diggory. He still managed to get his golden egg, and the crowd went wild, cheering thunderously, even go so far as to stomp their feet against the wooden stands in exultation.

Fleur Delacour had a very different method – she attempted to put the dragon into a sort of trance. It seemed to get very sleepy, head beginning to lull, but it all went wrong when it snored and set the girl's skirts on fire. She put the flames out with her wand and collected the egg.

Next was Krum, who hit his dragon square in the eye with a spell. It roared in pain, floundering around until it eventually stumbled over its own eggs – its real ones. Winona winced, feeling suddenly angry that it was in this situation at all. This whole tournament was stupid and not worth its trouble.

_Finally_ it was Harry's turn, and she wasn't sure whether she was annoyed or relieved that he was to be last.

He stumbled out into the arena, blinking at the brightness of the daylight, then blinking again at the giant dragon that sat roosted on its nest before him. The golden egg sat glittering in the light, and Winona watched with bated breath as Harry lifted his wand into the air, pausing to gather his wits before shouting, "_Accio Firebolt_!"

Winona stared, reassuring herself over and over again that Harry was going to be fine, that it was going to work, that he was going to be okay … and finally the broom appeared and Harry leapt on it with a practised ease. Winona let out a loud cheer with the rest of the crowd, relief like a tonic in her veins. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

The dragon spat fire in her cousin's direction, fire that he only just barely dodged. Winona gasped loudly, and there was no hesitation in the hand that gripped hers. Glancing over, she found Fred staring into the arena with wide, excited eyes, but his hand held hers tightly, fingers slipping through hers in a way that, again, felt intimate.

It was a comfort she hadn't known she'd needed, but now that she had it she relied on it heavily, gripping him back with all her strength. He didn't complain, even though she was probably cutting off his circulation with how tightly she squeezed him.

Returning her gaze to Harry, Winona watched as he got into his groove, finding a rhythm that would take him through the extremely dangerous, deadly task.

It was all over relatively quickly, and Winona was glad. He flew as he always did – like it came as naturally as breathing. He flew circles around his dragon, and by the time he'd gotten his egg, Winona's heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and her throat ached from her own loud cheers.

"He did it!" she screamed, bouncing on her toes in glee. She'd had every faith in Harry – she always had – but she was still beyond stunned that he'd gotten through this with nothing but a scratch on his shoulder for his efforts. "He's okay!"

"Yes!" Fred whooped loudly, finally letting go of Winona's hand to cup his own around his mouth to amplify his voice as he cried out, "_Go Harry_! Whoo!"

"_Go_ _Harry_!" Winona echoed, voice shrill and laced with a hint of hysteria.

"Miss Andrews?" came a voice from behind her, raised to be heard over the roar of the crowd. Winona spun around to see Professor McGonagall behind her, Ron and Hermione close on her heels. "Shall I take you down to see Mr Potter?" her teacher asked, a hint of a pleased smile on her crinkled lips.

"Yes!" she cried, quickly spinning around to catch both George and Fred in a tight hug, one arm thrown around each of them, yanking them against her firmly. "He did it!" she cried again, and the twins laughed on either side of her head.

She pulled away with a bright, shining grin, turning towards McGonagall and letting the stern old professor lead she and Harry's friends down through the stands towards the medical tent.

"Did you see him?" Hermione asked Winona excitedly. "Oh, wasn't he amazing?!"

"Are you kidding? That was _so_ cool!" Hermione's glee was contagious. Ron looked eager, but at the same time kind of pale and a little weak from shock.

McGonagall came to a stop in front of the mouth of the large, white tent. "Go on through, you three," she told them, waving them onwards. They didn't hesitate to dive through, Winona at the head. She tripped inside, doing a full 360º to locate her cousin. When she found him it was to see him looking far brighter than he had going into the task.

"Look at you, Boy Wonder," she cheered, rushing forwards to scoop him up in her biggest hug yet. "That was, without a doubt, the coolest thing you've ever done – and remember, you once killed a Basilisk," Winona told him over the cheers they could still hear from outside, the crowd yet to completely quiet.

Harry laughed into her shoulder, and she rocked them side to side for a long moment, basking in her relief before pulling back and reaching up to ruffle his fluffy black hair. Then she stepped back to allow Hermione and Ron a look in.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione told him in a high, squeaky voice. "You were amazing! You really were!"

But Harry barely even noticed the girl, his eyes focused on a pale Ron, confusion and caution in his gaze. "Harry," said the ginger-haired boy seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!" he said, pitchy and panicked.

Winona glanced to Harry to see how he'd take it. "Caught on, have you?" her cousin asked coldly. "Took you long enough."

Ron winced, and Winona watched the cogs turn in his brain as he geared up for what had better – as far as she was concerned – be the best apology in the history of wizard kind. But Harry surprised her by speaking up before Ron could get the words out.

"It's okay," he said suddenly, and they all blinked in surprise. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron uncertainly, "I shouldn't've —"

"_Forget it_," he said again, and when Ron grinned nervously at him, Harry grinned back.

From between them, Hermione burst into tears. The boys turned to look at her, stunned and more than a little bit wary.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry insisted, bewildered.

"You two are so _stupid_!" she shouted. Then, before either of them could stop her, she had given both of them a hug and dashed away, struggling to keep her cries quiet. Winona watched her go, just as perplexed as the boys.

"Barking mad," said Ron, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. He turned to say something to Harry, only to find Winona there, staring him down like a guard-dog might an intruder. "Uh…" he muttered unintelligently, not seeming to know what to say.

"Done being a dick?" she asked, head tilting as she spoke.

"I'd say so, yeah," he said.

"All right," she nodded acceptingly, although her scowl remained. "But remember that I'm watching you, you little redheaded twit." Ron looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or scream at the enigmatic threat.

"Winnie," said Harry from behind her, exasperated.

She couldn't help but smile, her hard exterior cracking like an egg. "Go get your scores, Boy Wonder," she told him, waving him happily off. He grinned, collecting his Firebolt and new, sparkling golden egg, turning and striding happily from the tent with Ron by his side – exactly where he belonged.

Winona was just about to leave, go find her friends to head back up to the castle, when a familiar face appeared in the doorway. "Little Winnie!" cheered Charlie at the sight of her.

"Charlie!" she exclaimed, taking three large steps forwards, and this time it was _her_ who was swept up in a large, warm embrace. Charlie spun her in a playful circle. "I didn't know you'd be here!" she said as he put her back on her feet, grinning up at him brightly. "But I probably should have known, given – y'know – the dragons."

"I would have thought you would've known because of, y'know, a vision?" he countered. Winona went stock still, and when Charlie laughed, it wasn't unkindly. "Relax, Winnie," he said easily. "I just read the article. That Skeeter woman should really be leashed by now. Sorry it had to come out that way."

Winona swallowed. "It hadn't really occurred to me that people outside of Hogwarts would have seen it," she admitted quietly.

"Well, in any case, I think it's beyond cool," he told her kindly. "Explains quite a bit, actually. You always were a bit of an oddball."

Winona rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said, sarcastic even around her large, happy grin. "Seen the twins yet?"

"Nah, haven't had a chance. I'll find them soon, but we've gotta go now if we wanna see Harry's scores!" he told her, reaching out to throw an arm around her neck, tugging her playfully from the tent.

The judges scored Harry well – except for Karkaroff, but it wasn't really that unexpected; the bloke was already an overgrown goblin in Winona's opinion – and instead of finding the twins, she and Charlie stumbled upon Harry and Ron first.

"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" said Charlie brightly, clapping Harry warmly on the shoulder in congratulations. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes. Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

"Okay, thanks," said Harry cheerfully.

"Come on, you old mamma's boy," said Winona teasingly, tugging impatiently at the dragon tamer's arm. "You can write her later. Let's go find the twins!"

"All right, hold your dragons," snorted Charlie. "Again, great job, Harry!"

"Thanks, Charlie!"

And then with a quick ruffle of Ron's hair they parted ways, the two boys heading for the tent behind them while Winona and Charlie headed for the stands, where she was sure the twins would have waited for her.

She was right, and the twins were standing at the base of the stairs leading up into the stands. Lee and Angelina stood with them, the others probably having wandered back up towards the castle, out of the cold of the day.

"Look who I found!" Winona called in greeting. The twins spun around to see Charlie walking up beside her, and they let out cheers at the sight of their older brother.

The brothers reunited, and Winona wandered over to Angelina and Lee, grinning at them happily. She was still on something of a high from Harry's victory. Not only was he alive and well, he'd come in at a tie for first place. It was miraculous, really, and she felt a sense of pride she'd never felt before.

"Wasn't that amazing?!" Lee gushed, glancing over his shoulder at the now-empty arena, as though he might be able to see the whole thing again if he squinted hard enough. "Harry never ceases to surprise me."

"And his _flying_," agreed Angelina eagerly. "Merlin, it made me miss playing Quidditch."

"Made me miss _watching_ Quidditch," Winona agreed, her fingers already itching with the need to go up to her dorm and _draw._ She wanted to capture everything from today – the scales of the dragon and the golden shine of the egg and the tumult of the crowd and the smile on Harry's face as he realised he'd survived – that he'd _won._

"Is that Charlie?" asked Angelina a few moments later, watching curiously as the twins eagerly chatted with their older brother, Fred saying something that needed massive hand gestures to convey his point.

"You don't remember him?" Winona asked in surprise. Winona thought it would be impossible to forget someone as effortlessly cool as Charlie.

"Of course I remember him," said Angelina with just an edge of defensiveness. "It's just been a long time. He looks different. More … rough." Although the words themselves might have been said with an appreciative edge, Angelina instead made them sound disapproving.

Winona frowned. "Working with dragons will do that to you, I guess."

She had no idea what was going on with Angelina these days, but her friend was becoming more and more intolerable as the days went on. She was sure something had to be wrong to make her act this way, but she didn't know how to bring the subject up – at least, not without Angelina getting offended.

Angelina didn't seem to sense Winona's inner turmoil. "I should reintroduce myself," she said suddenly. Winona frowned in confusion, but her friend was moving before she could ask why.

Looking over at Lee, the two friends could do no more than follow.

"Charlie?" said Angelina loudly to catch the dragonologist's attention. The three redheads turned to look at her in surprise. "Hi, it's nice to see you again," she said, holding out a hand to shake.

Charlie looked bewildered by the approach, but politely shook her hand. "It's, uh, Angela – right?" he asked awkwardly.

"Angelina," she corrected him, still smiling, although Winona thought she saw it waver. "I just thought I'd reintroduce myself."

"Great," said Charlie courteously, but confusion swam in his eyes. "But why?"

Angelina's smile tightened to concrete. "Because I'm Fred's girlfriend," she informed him, and Charlie's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Oh," he said, glancing over at Fred and George unsurely, before his eyes flickered over to Winona, cogs turning in his head. Winona jerked her chin at Angelina, telling him to focus on her instead. "Uh, that's great," he said again.

But Angelina wasn't smiling. "He hasn't mentioned me?" she asked with a frown.

"Yes, of course he has," Charlie hurried to lie. Winona saw through it like glass, but Angelina seemed to buy it. "Angelina. That's right. Yes. Hello."

Winona rolled her eyes in sheer exasperation, and from beside her Lee choked back a laugh.

"Well, I really do need to get going," said Charlie quickly, turning back to his brothers with that same rugged smile. "Those dragons aren't going to subdue themselves," he joked, reaching out to do some kind of a quick but complicated handshake with each of the twins that made Winona grin. "I'll try and make it back up here next summer."

"You say that every year," George complained, but his tone was teasing.

"You know what they say," Charlie shrugged. "A dragon tamer's work is never done."

"Nobody says that and you know it," Winona jibed as she slid up beside them, pressing up on her toes to pull Charlie into a quick but warm hug. "And you know, a letter here or there wouldn't go totally astray," she added, pulling back and playfully tugging on the scruff collecting at his chin.

"Yeah, yeah. You got it, Win," he muttered, pushing her off and turning to bump fists with Lee. "See ya, mate."

"Later, Charles," Lee winked.

Charlie stepped away, turning finally to Angelina, a polite if not slightly removed smile on his face. "Nice to see you again, Angelina," he said, a little stiff and formal.

"You too," she replied, and with a final wink Charlie was gone, rushing off to his meet coworkers and get their beloved beasts ready to move back home to Romania.

"Okay, so, Fred and I are on food and drinks; Lee, you're on fireworks, the good ones, none of that two-sickle stuff; and Win, you're on decorations," George listed the moment his brother was gone, all five friends automatically turning to head back up to the castle.

"What's this for?" Angelina asked in confusion.

"Harry's party?" Fred's answer sounded like a question.

"Obviously, Ange, come on," piped Lee, and Angelina shot him a scolding look.

"If we're planning to do this by the time it gets dark, I'm gonna need help on the decoration front," Winona said before Angelina could begin to chew Lee out for his cheek. "I'm bringing in Dean, from Harry and Ron's year. He's the one who helped at our birthdays last year."

"Come on, Winnie," Lee said teasingly, "everyone knows the decorations are the least important part."

Winona gave a dramatic gasp. "You take that back."

Lee cackled and began to sprint away before she could pull out her wand to hex him stupid. "Quick, my lady, he's getting away!" shouted George, bending over in front of her. "Hop on your most trusted steed."

Winona leapt onto George's back, wrapping her arms and legs around him and gripping tight as he began to chase as quickly as he could after a still-cackling Lee.

This left Angelina standing with Fred behind them in an awkward silence, but Winona didn't know that, so focused on their silly game that she didn't take the time to notice the hollow sadness in her friend's eyes.

The party was epic, even by their standards. Winona and Dean worked through dinner to get the banners looking perfect, and Fred and George stocked the common room with enough food to feed a small army. The air smelt of gunpowder from the fireworks Lee had procured, and Winona felt utterly content in amongst the mayhem of it all, laughing as Alicia tried catching chocolate buttons in her mouth with her eyes closed tight.

With the common room so full, she didn't even see Harry at all until halfway through the night, finding him sat enjoying second helpings on the couch, laughing with Ron and Hermione about something or other. It was amazing to see him smiling for once, and she beamed as she dropped onto the table in front of them, making them look up from their conversation.

"Enjoying your party?" she asked Harry, who nodded ardently. "Your mate Dean helped me with the banners," she said, nodding to the banners up ahead. "Setting Diggory's head on fire was his idea – personally I thought it was a little tasteless."

"It looks great, Winnie," Harry told her with a grin. "The twins really went all out on the food, didn't they?" he asked, holding up his plate of treacle tart and cheesecake.

Winona swallowed her mouthful of butterbeer, grinning at his words. "You say that as if they slaved over it themselves," she laughed. "Hey, I was wondering if you were planning on writing to Sirius about today?" she added, leaning forwards on the table so they could hear her lowered tone.

Harry winced apologetically. "I already wrote to him," he confessed. "Sent it off with Pigwidgeon before coming here. I was so wrapped up in everything, I didn't stop to think you might wanna write him too," he told her slowly. "Sorry, Win."

She was a little disappointed, but she understood that he was wrapped up in his victory. She couldn't fault him for that. "It's all good, Boy Wonder," she assured him. "I'll just write to him next time."

"Blimey, this is heavy," came Lee's voice all of a sudden. Winona startled, nearly dropping her bottle of butterbeer in surprise as he appeared at her side. He'd collected the large, glittering golden egg that sat on the table just to her right. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!" he said eagerly, and Winona rolled her eyes at his childlike excitement.

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said without so much as a beat of hesitation, like being a killjoy were wired into her DNA … Winona thought fondly and not at all with any malice. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry countered quietly, only Hermione, Ron and Winona hearing him, and the wild-haired girl had to admit defeat.

Lee began a lively chant of, "open it, open it, open it, open it…." that the entire common room was soon copying until it was loud as a drumbeat in the room, and Winona rolled her eyes.

Caving to the peer pressure, Harry took the egg off Lee and dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it, prising it open.

The most awful sound instantly filled the room; a screeching, wailing kind of a noise. Everyone flinched, especially those closest to it, and Winona slapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as the noise sent a shiver down her spine.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed from a few feet away. Harry obeyed, slamming it shut and making sure it stayed that way. Winona blinked down at in in shock, still feeling the ache in her ears.

"What was that?" demanded Seamus Finnigan, as though any of them had answers. "Sounded like a banshee … maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!" he suggested.

"It was someone being tortured!" cried Neville, who had turned bone white at the haunting noise. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," George rolled his eyes in exasperation. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing … maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."

Winona snorted a laugh, picking up a small sausage roll from an abandoned plate beside her and chucking it at him to get his attention. "I think he'd rather face the dragon again," she grinned.

"What_ I_ wanna know is why the Seer didn't see it," came Kyle Bishop's voice, a burly seventh year who thought even less of Divination than he did of women in general. Their small group turned to look at him, Winona already on the defensive. "Why didn't you see that happening, huh?"

"Piss off, Bishop," said George in a voice like ice.

"I didn't even get to the insult part, and you're already leaping to her defence," the seventh year laughed, the sound like a frog choking on a fly.

"Just ignore him, George," Winona told her best friend, before turning to Bishop with a snarl on her face. "Keep it up, Bishop, and you might just wake up one day with your dick hexed off," she warned him idly. "Trust me, I'd be doing women everywhere a favour."

"Winona!" Hermione gasped at the rather crass threat, cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

Bishop's eyes flashed, but he wandered off before she could put her threat into action, calling her rude names under his breath. Winona rolled her eyes in exasperation, turning back to her friends, spying Fred with a large plate of tarts in his hands.

"Ooh, those look nice," she said, reaching out to pick one off the pile. "Strawberry jam?"

"Raspberry," Fred told her, angling the plate towards Hermione. "Care for one, Hermione?" he asked politely. Hermione frowned down at the plate unsurely, and Fred grinned at her distrustful hesitation. "It's all right," he assured her. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch out for––"

A few seats away, Neville choked and spat out his mouthful of custard cream. The twins both laughed uproariously.

"Just my little joke, Neville…" Fred told him, but his eyes slid back to Winona and he gave a playful wink. She smothered a laugh, smirking as she bit into her jam tart.

"Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?" Hermione asked curiously as she held her own tart in a steady hand, apparently too scared to trust it and take a bite.

"Yep," said Fred with a nod. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf, grinning widely as he spoke. "_Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!_ … They're dead helpful, I don't doubt they'd get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

George reappeared by their side, handing Winona and Fred a fresh bottle of butterbeer each. She took it with a grateful smile, clinking it against his before taking a deep sip.

"How do you get in there?" Hermione continued, her voice uncharacteristically casual, and Winona leant forwards, watching her carefully.

"Easy," said Fred, utterly oblivious – probably from the butterbeers he'd been downing all night like they were pumpkin juice. "You go through a concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and-" he stopped abruptly, squinting at her in suspicion. "Why?"

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly, completely unconvincing.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" asked George around an amused grin. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

The rest of them all snickered, but Hermione just looked away, saying nothing. Winona knew she was cooking something up in that crafty brain of hers, but she just rolled her eyes, leaning back against the couch and taking a deep sip of her drink.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred warned her, flapping a finger in her face. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by bursting into a giant canary. The room exploded into laughter, and Winona giggled along with them, finding the stunned, frightened look on Neville's face to be downright hilarious.

"Oh — sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the room's loud, amused laughter. "I forgot — it _was_ the custard creams we hexed!"

The bright yellow feathers quickly began to fall off as Neville moulted like a real canary. By the time he looked human again, even Neville was laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the crowd of rowdy, impressed Gryffindors. "George and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

A small group of third years scurried over, already eager to buy some, and Winona grinned at Fred and George proudly. She left Harry and his friends after awhile, once they'd gotten caught up in some story Seamus was telling to their group that had them all in stitches.

She found Katie up the back with some of her other friends from fifth year, and settled into place beside them. They were talking animatedly about the task they'd just seen, and she got caught up in it, laughing with Katie as her friend Joshua re-enacted the way Diggory had run in circles after being set on fire.

The butterbeer was beginning to get to her, and she sank into her seat, playing with Katie's hair where she was sat below her on the floor, sloppily braiding it over and over again. She felt light and happy, affected by the alcohol. It wasn't a lot, and she wasn't drunk by any stretch of the definition, but she was maybe just a little bit tipsy.

She wasn't expecting someone to sink down into the couch beside her and glanced over in surprise to find Fred grinning at her brilliantly. "Hey you," she greeted him fondly, letting go of Katie's lovely hair to turn to face him, a smile on her face as she caught sight of his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He'd clearly had more than her – and judging by the slight scent she caught on his breath, it was more than just the mild butterbeer he'd been indulging in. "Drinking up a storm, I see," she said, smirking in amusement.

"I like firewhisky," he said factually. She was glad to find there was no slur to his words, meaning he wasn't completely sloshed. "Firewhisky is good."

"You're not wrong," she agreed with yet another generous sip of her butterbeer. "How many of those custard creams did you sell?" she asked curiously.

"Eight so far," he replied happily. "We're going to need a bigger stock to keep up with demand."

"If there's anything you need…" she trailed off meaningfully, and he nodded his head, the smile on his face wide and bright.

A throat cleared to her right, and Winona looked away from Fred to see a second year standing before them, an awkward look on his face. "Winona?" he asked, and she nodded her head, taking the small note he held out to her. "Some guy out in the hallway wanted me to give this to you," he said quickly. With her heart speeding up in her chest, Winona thanked him softly. With a nod he wandered off, heading for the table still overflowing with food in the corner.

Winona quickly opened the parchment she'd been given, swiftly reading the words on the page.

_Lion,_

_Feeling up for a late night stroll?_

_~Snake._

Winona felt her breath leave her in a small, shocked exhale, but before she could even begin to react, Fred was suddenly leaning over her, reading the note in her hands. Panicking, she folded it hastily and stuffed it into her pocket. But the damage was done, and she knew he'd seen it.

Fred looked up at her, an edge of steel to his eyes, and suddenly Winona was glad Katie and her other friends had moved on, all of them clamouring up to get some more food from the table in the corner, leaving the two of them alone on the couch.

They said nothing for a few moments, each stewing in their own swirl of thoughts.

"Tell me you're not actually thinking of going," Fred finally said, voice like ice.

"I mean…" Winona hesitated, not knowing what to say. "Maybe just to see what he wants," she finally murmured, pulse racing in her ears.

"You can't be serious," Fred spat, shifting away from her in something like disgust, and she turned to stare at him with a frown. "I hate Jeremiah Nott, Winona. And you should too. How can you not see that?" he asked plainly, fury vibrating in his voice.

Winona swallowed, suddenly finding her mouth to be too dry. "Why?" she asked, thinking to add 'besides the obvious' – but then again, what _was_ the obvious? As of right now, she was clueless.

Yes, Jeremiah was a Slytherin, but that wasn't enough in itself to create the kind of seething ire she saw in her friend's eyes now. He'd never done anything to them personally, or even anyone else throughout the castle. He was a rather quiet student. He wasn't known for his bullying, as most Slytherins were. He wasn't known for being cruel or rude. He was just another student – at least, to everyone who wasn't Winona.

Despite Fred's intoxication, he still seemed to take a few moments to ponder his answer, as though it wasn't something he'd really given much thought to before now. "Because he _has_ you," he finally said, the look in his eyes frustrated.

Winona's heartbeat faltered. "He _has_ me?" she echoed in surprise. "What's _that_ s'pose to mean?"

Fred's lip curled. He didn't seem to know what to say. Winona stared back without wavering. "He was just caught _snogging_ some other girl down in Hogsmeade, and now you're _running_ back to him like some kind of…" he trailed off, not seeming to know what to say, the look in his eyes dark.

"Like some kind of what?" she pressed, feeling a bubbling fury of her own. Fred's expression twitched, but she stubbornly pressed harder. "Like some kind of what, Fred?" she hissed. "Go on, say it."

But Fred never finished the thought. "He's _using_ you," he said, voice laced with venom, like his hatred for the Slytherin transcended the English language. "How can you not see that? You're _better _than this."

Winona stared for a moment, trying to make sense of this bewildering conversation. "It's not really your place to judge, actually, Fred," she said, prim and hard. "I can shag who I like."

Fred winced like her words hurt him, and he grit his teeth like he was holding something back.

"Say it," she pressed again, fiery look in her granite eyes just daring him to say the words. "You think I'm being a slag."

But Fred didn't bite. "He doesn't care about you, Winona. He only wants you for your body."

"And how do you know that?" she hissed combatively. "You don't know the first thing about what's happening between Jeremiah and I."

"I know he doesn't deserve you."

"Then who does, Fred?" she bit back. "Who _actually_ meets your impossible standards?" Fred said nothing, glaring back at her furiously. "I know what I'm getting myself into, okay?" she said firmly, clamouring to her feet.

Fred's hand snapped out, fingers curling around her arm, pulling her back down onto the cushions of the couch. Winona blinked at him in surprise. "I know what guys like him are after, Winona," he insisted. "I know what he wants."

"And yet you have no idea what _I _want," she snapped in stubborn reply, jerking her arm out of his hold.

"This relationship, if it can even be _called_ a relationship, is toxic," he spat. "How can you not see that?"

"I don't think _you're_ in any position to be giving out relationship advice, Fred," she hissed. "You and Angelina? It's a joke."

Fred's eyes hardened impossibly more. "At least she actually gives a damn about me," he snarled, "and she's not just using me for sex."

"For that to happen, you'd actually have to have _had_ sex with her, Fred," she sneered back, utterly condescending.

Fred's eyes seemed to glow with flames of anger, and he glared at her with a ferocity that set her blood alight. "You don't know shit, Winnie," he said, cold and unfeeling.

"Whatever," she replied, standing to her feet again. Fred stumbled up after her, a frown pulling at his ginger brow.

He opened his mouth to say something, and Winona's heart was in her throat waiting hear what it would be, only for someone to call his name, snapping them both from their stupor. They turned to see Angelina stood above them, her eyes just as glassy as Fred's were from the alcohol.

Fred cast a look to Winona, his eyes hard, and she got the weirdest sense that he felt _betrayed;_ but why? What could she possibly have done to make him feel _that_? So what if she wanted to go shag someone else? He'd never said before now that he had a problem with it. And _why_ did he care at all what she did in her free time? It was none of his fucking business.

"Everything all right, Fred?" Angelina asked carefully, her pretty eyes flickering between the pair of them hesitantly.

Fred hesitated only a fraction of a second before sneering at Winona and shifting so he was standing closer to his girlfriend's side. "Yeah," he said shortly. "Winona and I are done here."

Feeling the words like a physical blow, Winona looked away, humiliated by the sting in her eyes. He didn't look her way again as he led him away, but Winona watched as Fred tugged Angelina up the stairs in the direction of the boys' dorms, and she felt a sickened swooping in her gut that only made her eyes sting more.

Winona glanced towards the portrait hole, where Jeremiah was probably still waiting, indecision warring up a storm in her gut.

She missed that electric feeling she'd get when she and Jeremiah touched. She missed biting into the flesh of his lip and the way he'd groan, making her forget all about the pain and loneliness that raged inside of her like a howling storm in the night.

And that was just it, wasn't it? He made her _forget._

Putting aside her butterbeer, Winona marched directly over to the portrait hole, saying goodbye to no one as she climbed through it. She felt awash with relief at the sight of the Slytherin standing by the bannister, a scowl on his handsome face that melted into a smirk when he saw it was her.

"I almost thought you weren't going to come," he said, voice rich and silky smooth, and Winona felt a familiar, simmering heat low in her gut.

"Don't talk," she ordered him, gripping his hand and dragging him forcefully down the hall.

"I like where this is going," he told her smugly, but she ignored him, tugging him along the dark corridor and down two flights of stairs before they reached an empty classroom that she knew hadn't been occupied in years.

It smelt like dust and mothballs, but she didn't care, shutting the door and pulling out her wand to lock it before placing it on the unused desk and turning to Jeremiah with fire in her eyes.

"Take off your shirt," she barked at him, feeling the strangest urge to hit something. But since that wouldn't end well, she decided to settle for shagging him instead.

"You're forceful tonight," he purred. Overcome by a wave of frustration, Winona stepped forwards, shoving him none too gently against the wall and violently yanking his shirt up and over his head.

"Don't ruin this by opening your mouth," she bit out, tossing the shirt onto the floor and raking her fingernails down his chest, making him smirk.

"But you love what I can do with my mouth," he told her smugly, and with a growl of frustration, Winona silenced him with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, already moving for his belt.

He began to understand the sense of urgency she held, and eagerly tore at her clothes with the same determination. She heard the sound of one of her buttons popping off as he yanked at her sweater a little too forcefully, but she just continued to kiss him, slanting their mouths together, hot and wet but just not quite _hitting _the spot.

Growling again, Winona kicked off her jeans and shoved him down. She wasn't in the mood for foreplay, something he seemed to sense as he flipped them around, throwing her against the wall. The rough surface of the stone scraped against her back, but she ignored it in favour of gripping Jeremiah's inky hair and holding his head to her neck while he sucked on her pulse point.

Unbidden, thoughts of Fred began to float through her head.

Was this what he was doing with Angelina now? Was he hovering between her legs, the pair of them pressed intimately up against one another while he left hot, possessive marks on the sensitive skin of her throat? Was he making her moan with the drag of his teeth against her skin?

The unwelcome wonderings just about drove her insane, and with a grunt of frustration she yanked Jeremiah's mouth back to hers, trying with all her might to snog the thoughts away.

But even as she kissed Jeremiah, more unbidden thoughts hit her.

Was this what it would be like to kiss Fred? All heat and desperation and need? Or would it be softer? Would it make her heart race, instead of just burn? Would he slide his long fingers into her hair and tilt up her head the way she liked? What would he taste like? Earthy, like his scent? Or sweet, like all his favourite foods?

She opened her eyes and saw a flash of red hair, but she blinked and it was gone, replaced by Jeremiah's inky locks. That was the final straw.

Winona shoved Jeremiah off of her, and he was so startled by that action that he stumbled back and tripped onto the floor. Laid sprawled on the stone floor of the classroom, only half decent, Jeremiah blinked up at her, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"What?" he finally asked, the fog of lust in his eyes fading away, replaced by irritation and confusion.

Heart slamming without mercy against her sternum, Winona ducked down to swipe up her jumper, tugging it on over her bra, wincing as the fabric brushed the new scrapes on her back. She pulled her trousers back up and loudly did the zipper up. "This isn't a good idea," she said, sounding breathless, but not in a good way.

"What the fuck, Andrews?" Jeremiah snapped, pushing himself to his feet and clumsily pulling his pants back up. He so lacked dignity in that moment, she almost laughed. But she managed to smother the sound.

"We can't keep doing this," she told him, horrified by the way her voice began to shake.

Now he was staring at her like she'd gone utterly insane, and she hated how stupid it made her feel, like she really _was_ crazy. "So what, mid-shag, you just decide it's over?" he demanded hotly.

She shut her eyes a moment, thinking about how she'd looked at him and seen Fred, and just how fucked up that was. It wasn't fair to anyone – not to her, not to Fred, and she supposed not even to Jeremiah – not that that last bit really mattered to her.

"You don't care about me, Jeremiah," she said, forcing the words out around her growing humiliation.

"I've _never_ cared about you," he replied flatly, staring at her like that had been a given. Like it were a simple fact of life. "That was always a given. Why should does make a difference now?" Winona's eyes burned with tears, and Jeremiah ran a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. "We were just shagging, Andrews. That's all this ever was. But if you want it to be over, then it's over."

He said it with such ease, like it didn't hurt him to break it off. But it did hurt her, because he was her first, and she'd been vulnerable with him in a way she never had before, and it stung to know she was always just a shag. Fred was right; he only wanted her for her body.

When he'd first said it, she'd thought that was all she wanted Jeremiah for, anyway. But she wasn't built like that. What she'd told Fred in the week prior was true, she didn't know what it meant to really, properly love someone. But she knew now that she wanted to find out.

"I can't do it anymore," she said, gaining strength in her conviction. "We're done."

Jeremiah scoffed, like she were overreacting. Like she were a child stamping her foot against the floor, throwing an inconvenient tantrum. Looking at him now, sneering at her with disdain, she wondered how she'd ever thought he was attractive. Suddenly, she'd never seen anyone more ugly.

"You're so pathetic," he muttered, but somehow it didn't hurt like it had when Fred had said it. Now it just felt petty.

"Maybe," she agreed in a sharp voice. "But at least I don't shag anything with a pulse."

Jeremiah smirked. "No," he drawled smugly. "Only me."

Winona shook her head. Whatever this had been, it was over now. She was done. "Goodbye, Jeremiah," she said, cool and detached, picking up her wand and unlocking the door with a flick of her wrist, before holding it tight in her hand, the warm wood comforting against her skin.

Jeremiah headed for the door, only to pause at the threshold, looking back at her knowingly. "You'll come back, you know?" he said confidently.

"I'd rather stick pins in my eyes," she snapped back.

He shrugged and smirked, like he knew something she didn't. "If you say so," he drawled, and with that he was gone, strolling from the room like he owned the place. Like somehow, even though she'd broken things off with him, he'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

The walk back to the common room was lonely and cold. She struggled to get her appearance under control, striving to fix her hair and adjust her collar so no one would see the few marks Jeremiah had left before she'd put a stop to their tryst.

Her eyes still stung, and she realised that they'd never really stopped. She paused at the Fat Lady's portrait, taking a few extra moments to compose herself before muttering the password and climbing through.

The party was still going, if only at half the momentum it had been when she'd left. A glance at the clock told her it was approaching midnight, and Winona ducked her head and made for the dorms, relieved when nobody seemed to notice her passing.

She stepped into her room, hoping beyond hope that it would be empty, only to be frightfully disappointed.

Alicia and Katie were both sitting on Angelina's bed, the three of them discussing something in low tones. "Winona," called Alicia when she noticed her enter. She tried to make a beeline for the bathroom, but Alicia and Katie enthusiastically waved her over, and she knew there was no escape.

"What's going on?" Winona asked them reluctantly, feeling her skin begin to itch. She desperately needed a shower; she needed to wash away any trace that Jeremiah had ever even touched her. She wanted to be free of him, once and for all.

Katie giggled and Alicia was smirking, while Angelina had her head ducked shyly.

"What?" she pressed, looking between them all warily.

"Angelina and Fred just shagged!" exclaimed Katie like she couldn't possibly hold it back any longer.

Winona had absolutely no idea what to say. All she knew was that the news made a wave of bile travel the length her throat, burning the whole way up. She swallowed it back, giving the best imitation of a smile she could possibly muster.

"Wow," she said, glad her voice sounded unaffected despite the swirl of discontent in her stomach. "Big step."

Angelina's dark skin was flushed even darker in embarrassment. "I was wondering what was taking him so long," she confessed with a giggle. "It wasn't quite what I envisioned, but … it was still nice," she said with another _stupid _giggle, the sound making Winona want to hit something again. "_Quite_ nice, actually."

Katie and Alicia both tittered with amusement, but Winona just felt like she was going to pass out.

"That's great, Ange," she forced herself to say, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. "I'm happy for you." _Lie_. "I'm gonna go take a shower," she said before anyone could try and tell her any details. That was the last thing she needed. She escaped into the shower, and once she was under the spray, she finally let the tears come.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Coming up next is the Yule Ball chapter, which I know you're all very excited about. I'll see you then!**

**EDIT: I forgot to post a review highlight when I first uploaded, so here it is: I wanna thank _CalliL13_ \- the fact that you got so immersed in my story that you forgot Winnie wasn't canon is so funny to me. It's always the goal, in OC fiction, for that to happen, so I'm really glad you were able to enjoy it enough that, for a moment, Winona was real. You're the best, and I hope you enjoyed!**


	38. Save me a dance

When she woke up the next day, Winona had been terrified of seeing Fred again. But they'd had classes, and no matter how much she desperately wanted to, she couldn't skive off class forever.

But, to her great surprise, when she met came face-to-face with Fred again, there was barely any lingering tension. He greeted her with a smile and a joke about needing a haircut, before Angelina had arrived and they'd had a great snog in front of the rest of them.

"Suppose there'll be a lot of that, won't there?" Alicia had muttered teasingly to the others.

"Ange told you, then?" George had asked.

"Oh yeah," she'd giggled loudly, "we got _all_ the details,"

Winona had gripped Lee's arm and started a loud conversation with him about that morning's Charms class, dragging him out the door and trying her hardest not to think about Fred and Angelina twisted up into intimate positions the night before.

And so the days passed by, and November turned into December, and with it came a harsh winter. The castle began to grow colder, and Winona had taken to wearing an extra jumper everywhere she went.

She didn't see Jeremiah alone again. They'd made eye contact a few times in the Great Hall, or in their lessons, but otherwise they didn't even speak. She wanted to be glad, and in a way, she was. But mostly she just felt tired. Angry at herself, that she'd let it go on as long as it had.

It was well into December when McGonagall stopped them from leaving after Transfiguration, a tense, awkward sort of a look on her face. "Now, as I'm sure you've all heard, the Yule Ball is approaching," she said with an air of great importance.

Winona hadn't really heard anything about it – but she wasn't exactly Miss Popularity, so that wasn't surprising – but neither had her friends, judging by the confused looks on their faces.

"The Yule Ball?" asked Lee loudly from his place beside Fred a row over. "You mean like a party?"

McGonagall shot him her most unimpressed stare. "I mean, Mr Jordan, a ball. As in a _dance._"

The class broke out into excited whispers and George turned to smirk at Winona. "This means you have to wear a dress," he sang teasingly. "You're gonna actually look like a girl," he added with a snort.

"You're gonna have to wear dress robes, you know?" she countered. "I bet you look good all dressed up."

"Bet you'll think Fred looks better," he joked with a wink, but before she could ask when he meant by that, McGonagall was speaking again, voice raised over the hum of her students' chatter.

"The Yule Ball is a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests," she told them all in a stern, no-nonsense voice. "Dress robes _will_ be worn. I will have none of you showing up dressed inappropriately. Now, the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall."

The class broke out into whispers again, and McGonagall cleared her throat pointedly.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, er, let our hair down and have _fun_," she said, full of an awkward disapproval.

The twins both gave loud snorts of amusement, no doubt at the image of their Transfiguration Professor without her staple tight bun.

"But we will _not_ be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way," she said, low and stern, and a threat if Winona had ever heard one.

The class nodded back obediently.

"Are there any questions?" she added briskly. Nobody moved an inch. "Very well – don't forget to revise the chapters on Human Transfiguration in your textbooks before next week's lesson," she called as she waved them out.

The moment she was finished speaking, the class exploded into a hum of chatter, all of them flowing towards the doors, clumped together as they excitedly discussed the upcoming dance.

Winona wanted to stay with the boys as they made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch, but Alicia grasped her arm and forced her away from them. She sent George a pleading look that he absolutely understood, but still he just gave a cheeky wave as she was dragged away for girl-time.

"Who do you want to ask you?" Angelina was asking Alicia eagerly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she replied dreamily. "Just someone nice and handsome. And they have to be a good dancer, that's non-negotiable. Oh – how amazing would it be if _Krum_ asked me?!" she asked excitedly.

"Why would Krum ask _you_?" asked Hope, and Winona knew she didn't mean it rudely, although it certainly sounded that way.

"More to the point, you actually think of Krum as _handsome_?!" she asked Alicia before any sort of argument could get started.

Alicia flushed pink. "You don't?"

"I'd rather fuck the giant squid," she replied in a deadpan, and her friends let out squeals of disgust.

"Winnie!" groaned Angelina, scandalised as she shoved her away with a grimace. "I think that's the most disgusting thing you've ever said!"

"Really?" Winona asked in surprise. "Wow, I'm not as sharp as I thought I was."

"What about you?" Alicia asked Angelina before they could go down that particular rabbit hole. "Do you think Fred will ask you?"

Angelina looked insulted by the question. "Well, I'd hope so, considering I'm his girlfriend," she said primly.

"And after what you did last night … well, he'd be an idiot not to, right?" Alicia giggled brightly, and Angelina ducked her head shyly.

Winona's insides turned sour, like lemon juice was being pumped through her veins. She grimaced, looking away and forcing herself for what had to be the dozenth time to not imagine them together in that way. It made her heart heavy like lead, and her stomach curdle with disgust.

She didn't want to think about why she had such a strong reaction to the pair of them together, didn't want to analyse it, too afraid of what she might find if she did.

In the days that followed, the school was abuzz with a nervous, excited sort of energy. The girls and boys seemed to have split off, and Winona found herself feeling strangely out of the loop. What was the big deal? It was just a dance. Who cared if they had a date or not? Couldn't they just go in a big group, as friends?

"You should just ask someone, Winnie," said Alicia, who was awfully confident in the whole thing now that she was going to the ball with a tall, handsome Ravenclaw boy from their year. "You don't want to have to go with someone horrible."

"I don't care who I go with," she said, halfheartedly sketching in her book, the feel of graphite scraping against parchment soothing and gentle. The fire was crackling across the room, giving the common room a warm sort of glow, but she was still cold, hunched over in her too-big jumper for warmth.

"But what if you never ask anyone, and have to go _alone_?" asked Katie as though it were the most atrocious thing in the world.

"Then I'll go alone," she shrugged. "So what?"

The girls stared at her like she'd just told them she was planning on attending the ball completely naked and dancing with Professor Moody the whole night. "Winona, that's just going to look … well, it'll look sad," said Angelina quietly, the sound of her voice pitying.

Winona grit her teeth against a rush of annoyance. "Since when do I give a flying shit what people think of me?" she countered without so much as batting an eyelash. "So it'll look sad; big deal," she said. "I'd rather go alone than dance in uncomfortable silence with someone I don't even like."

Alicia and Angelina exchanged a long look. "Don't you like _anyone_?" Alicia asked slowly. "There's _nobody_ at all you could see yourself going to the ball with?"

The first name that came to mind was Fred, and she looked at her feet, cringing until the thought went away. She didn't want to go with Fred – the implications alone were too much. Besides, he had a girlfriend. "Nope," she said instead, looking back up with a steely expression.

"Not even your mysterious snogging partner?" Angelina teased.

Winona glanced over at her in slight alarm. "What?"

"Oh, come on," Angelina laughed, and even Alicia couldn't help but giggle. "As if we haven't noticed how you've been acting the last few months." Alicia nodded her head in agreement. "There's _someone_ in your life. Why not take a chance and ask him?"

"Believe me," Winona said through gritted teeth. "It's not an option." She took a deep breath, deciding to change the subject. "You're going with Fred, right?" she asked quickly. "Are you excited?"

Angelina suddenly looked like she'd just swallowed a lemon. Alicia winced in sympathy. "He hasn't asked her yet," she revealed quietly.

Winona blinked in surprise. "He still hasn't?"

"You didn't know?" Angelina was frowning. "Don't you guys talk about these things?"

Winona lifted her shoulders in a weak shrug. "Now that we're older, our love lives aren't really something we discuss," she replied evenly. And it was true, however, maybe not for those exact reasons. "I'm sure Fred's just working up to it," she added to Angelina with a small, reassuring smile. "Beneath all that bravado, he is actually quite cautious, you know."

Angelina sighed, casting Fred a glance where he stood with George at the opposite end of the common room. She looked away just as quick, not wanting to be caught staring, but Winona watched a while longer, catching Fred's eye when he glanced over.

She shot him a small, tentative smile that he returned, and she looked away, turning back to her sketching.

"Are you excited to go with Rory?" Angelina asked Alicia, probably just eager to get the conversation off of herself.

They began to talk, chattering instead of working on their homework like they were meant to. Winona was content to sketch, pulling her coloured pencils out from her bag and beginning to add colour to one of her old drawings. She was distracted, and so the force of a vision came on suddenly.

There wasn't really time to go anywhere, and she assumed no one would bother her – besides, everyone knew she was a Seer now anyway. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

The vision wasn't loud or violent as they usually were. Instead it was rather quiet, and she heard the hum of familiar voices and the pleasant crackle of fire before it slipped away, leaving her blinking back to the present.

"–Winona?" Alicia was saying her name, and it was clearly not the first time she'd done so.

"Hm?" she hummed, feeling the room sway a little as she came back to the present.

Alicia and Angelina exchanged a long look. "Was that a vision?" Alicia asked curiously.

Winona didn't want to lie – and there was really no need to. "Yeah," she said, instinctively pressing her newest sketch close to her chest. "It was."

The girls suddenly looked incredibly interested. "What was it of?" Angelina asked eagerly.

"Uh, you'll find out later," she told them, glancing subtly down at her sketch, although she didn't need to. It was one of those rare ones she remembered with perfect clarity. "I'll be back," she said, standing up. Her friends tried to argue, but she ignored them, shoving her sketchbook away and moving across the room to where Fred and George were stood talking to one another in low voices.

They stopped abruptly when they saw her standing there, waiting for their attention. "Hey, Winnie," said Fred in gentle greeting.

"Hey," she said, but it was distant and distracted. "George, a word?"

"Conviviality," he joked with a cheeky grin. "All yours, gorgeous." Rolling her eyes, Winona gripped him by the shirt, hauling him over towards the frosted-over window, away from any prying ears. "Ow!" he exclaimed childishly, even though she knew she hadn't hurt him at all. "What, Win?"

"Do you have a date for the ball yet?" she asked without preamble.

He blinked in surprise. "Uh, no," he said slowly. "Why?"

"You wanna go with me?"

George looked very suddenly like a deer in the headlights. The panic on his face surprised her, and he began to edge away. "Oh, uh, Winnie … I'm flattered, really, I am–" he stammered awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes so hard it gave her a headache, reaching up to slap him soundly upside the head. "Not like _that,_ you idiot," she scoffed, laughing at the very thought. "As _if._ I'd rather snog Snape."

"Thanks," he muttered back dryly.

"Look, the girls have been harping on at me for days to pick someone to ask so I'm not going alone. As little as I care about how it looks, I've decided I'd rather go with someone I will actually have fun with, as opposed to someone I take out of desperation. So, I thought we'd go as friends. Wreak some chaos, spike the punch, dance to some Weird Sisters. Y'know, have a good time?"

George was frowning, like he couldn't make a decision.

"Unless you already have someone in mind to go with?" she asked, mirroring his frown. She'd been almost certain that he didn't have a thing for anyone in particular, but she'd been distracted as of late, so she could have been wrong.

"No, it's not that, it's just…" he didn't seem to know what to say.

"George."

George winced. "Well, it's Fred," he finally said, and Winona frowned.

"If you're worried he's gonna be lonely, he's just about to ask Ange to go with him," she told him.

"He is?"

"Oi! Angelina!" called Fred from across the room, and the two friends turned to look at him, one curious, the other knowing.

Angelina looked up from her conversation with Alicia, eyes wide in surprise. "What?" she called back, a little wary. She knew just as well as Winona that when a Weasley twin drew attention to you like that, some kind of public humiliation typically followed.

"Want to come to the ball with me?" Fred asked her, eyes focused solely on hers, a confident smile on his face.

Angelina blinked in shock, then paused to consider it. Winona knew she'd say yes, but was taking her time to seem cool about the whole thing. "All right, then," she finally said, and she turned back to Alicia, cheeks just a little bit darker with her flush.

The whole common room went up in childish giggles at the display, and George turned back to Winona with wide eyes. "That's going to get scary, you know?" he told her wryly, referring to her startling foreknowledge, but she just smiled back at him innocently.

"Come on, George," she said, folding her hands together in front of her face. "Please will you go with me to the stupid ball?"

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, all right," he said with a huff, the hesitation in his eyes giving way to a strange sort of determination, the meaning of which Winona wasn't sure of. "It'll be a laugh. You were serious about spiking the punch, right?"

"You bet your arse I was, Weasley."

And Winona found it was a lot easier to go about her day to day life now that she had a date. However, the amount of times that she had to say 'yes, George Weasley, but just as mates' was beginning to take a toll.

The end of the term came suddenly, but when it did it was a relief. Winona spent her days lounging around with her friends and ignoring the way Fred and Angelina were sat wrapped together more often than not, like any other sickening couple in love.

Winona wanted to gag at the sight of them, but settled for keeping engaged at all times with the others, talking about the ball and the rest of the remaining tasks.

Christmas Day dawned before she knew what had hit her, and Winona woke up to the sound of Angelina murmuring to Hope, and the crunch of wrapping paper as it was pulled from a present.

"Merry Christmas!" exclaimed Alicia when she noticed her awake. Winona responded in kind, moving over to the bathroom to brush her teeth before anything else. "I absolutely adore the bag you guys gave me, by the way!" Alicia continued, following Winona into the bathroom and hovering in the doorway.

"You know I didn't choose it," Winona said around a mouthful of toothpaste. "But I'm glad you like it anyway."

"I'm going to use it for my books in the new term," she nodded happily. "Now hurry up and open your presents," she urged Winona from the room once she'd finished rinsing out her mouth. "I wanna see if you like what we got you."

Every year the four friends always put in for one big present from the others, meaning they could get something nice from all of them, without having to worry about something small that they wouldn't like. It worked out nicely for Winona, who was terrible at choosing gifts, and always had been.

She sat down on her bed, wrapping her quilt around her shoulders for extra warmth as she dug into her humble pile of presents.

As instructed, she went for the one in grey paper from the other girls. It was rather large and shaped like a standard box. Really, it could have been anything. Pulling it open, Winona was surprised to find it was a shoebox, and she hesitantly lifted the lid.

Inside was a pair of simple – but gorgeous – black high heels. Winona tentatively pulled one from the box, holding it up to find they were made from a durable suede material.

"Wow," she murmured, stunned. They looked expensive, but then again, Alicia was notoriously good at finding all the best sales.

"Do you like them?" Angelina asked hopefully, sitting down on the edge of Winona's bed.

"We wanted to go for something simple, because we know you don't like to make a fuss – but we chose ones with a platform to give you the extra height. These are gonna make your legs look _fantastic_," Alicia assured her.

"Guys, they're gorgeous," Winona assured them, still eyeing them carefully. They looked delicate, while at the same time sturdy. "Thank you."

"You'll wear them tonight?" Angelina asked with a smile. "We went with black because we knew it would suit the burgundy of your dress."

"Yeah," she agreed with a matching grin. "I'll wear them." She paused in thought. "Although, I may need to practise walking in them first. They're awfully tall."

"They're from Madam Malkin's, silly," laughed Alicia from where she'd wandered back over to her own bed. "They've got a both a Cushioning Charm _and_ a Balancing Charm on them. They'll still be a little uncomfortable, but it's way better than Muggle heels. And not even _you_ will be able to fall over in them."

Winona rolled her eyes, leaning over to give Angelina a quick hug in thanks. "That perfume you guys chose is amazing, by the way," Angelina said as Winona pulled back, smiling at her widely. "I can't wait to see what Fred thinks," she added as she wandered happily over to her bed.

Biting her lip to keep it from pulling down in a grimace, Winona said nothing, gently putting the shoes back and opening the rest of her presents.

She got her usual sweater from Mrs Weasley, this year a deep blue with a quill stitched delicately onto the front. She smiled at the older woman's thoughtfulness and put it aside next to the assortment of cakes she'd sent as well.

Charlie had sent some beautiful purple dragon scales, along with a note telling her that they were rare, and could be used in many high-level potions, although they worked nicely as decoration. She agreed, and placed them gently in her bedside drawer.

Lee had sent a small assortment of sweets from Honeydukes, along with her beloved Sugar Quills, and she grinned, already sucking on one as she moved to the next in the pile.

Harry had bought her a set of expensive new watercolours, the kind he could have only ordered specially in the mail. She awed over them for a quite awhile before remembering that there was one more present at the end of her bed.

It was from the twins, and rather large for something from them. Opening it curiously, she was surprised to find a new bag sitting beneath the plain brown wrapping.

It was in much the same style as the bag she used now; a satchel with an overwhelming but necessary amount of pockets. Winona knew immediately that it was for her art supplies, because the one she had was years old, and beginning to wear thin. She took her time transferring all her art supplies from her old one to this new one, and ran her hands down the sturdy material of the front with a smile.

"Ready to come down to breakfast, Winnie?" Hope asked, and Winona realised she'd been so distracted in her new things that she'd not seen the others move to leave the room.

"Yeah, just give me a moment," she said, hurrying to yank on a pair of jeans and her brand new Weasley sweater before shoving her feet into her shoes and shouldering her bag. The girls then wandered down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The boys were all already there, laughing uproariously over their plates of bacon and eggs. Angelina slipped into the spot beside Fred, and he greeted her with a nod. Winona plopped down next to George.

"This bag's a dream," she said in greeting, and he grinned at her brightly.

"Knew you'd like it," he told her happily. "But Freddie picked it out."

Fred was already looking at her, and she smiled at him widely from across the table. Ducking his head, he quickly engaged Lee into a conversation while Winona spoke to George about their custard cream sales and whether they were meeting demand.

The day passed in a casual, relaxed sort of fashion. They all went up to the common room, which was packed with students as it never before had been at Christmastime. While enjoying their gifts and their time to lounge about, nearly everyone was chattering excitedly about the ball that night.

Winona was curled on the floor beside George, experimenting with the new watercolours Harry had gotten her and halfheartedly engaging in the conversation of her friends around her. Lunch came quickly, and they all ate their fill before wandering out onto the grounds with Harry and the Weasleys for a snowball battle.

Both Alicia and Angelina didn't want to join them, stating that they wanted plenty of time to get ready and hurrying back up to the dorms.

Winona didn't mind, she found herself laughing so hard she felt sick as she hung low behind a tree with Ginny, Fred and Harry. Ron, George and Lee were all on the other side of the courtyard, snickering as they threw snowballs in their direction.

It was easy and fun, and she felt relaxed in a way she'd forgotten how to feel.

"We should ambush them," whispered Ginny. "Sneak up on them before they know what's hit them."

"Are you kidding? It's suicide," Harry replied, but there was a smile on his lips.

"Oh, grow a pair, Boy Wonder," Ginny replied through a laugh, and both Harry and Winona gaped at her in surprise. She only laughed, gathering up a giant snowball in her nimble hands before launching to her feet and sprinting across the battlefield. "For Hogwarts!" she cried dramatically, and Harry grinned, wide and amused, before throwing himself after her with a laugh.

Winona grinned as she heard Ron squawk from across the courtyard, and George and Lee both shouted something about a foul. She leant back against the tree they were using as cover. Her skin was pink and numb from the cold, but she didn't care, smiling to herself happily.

"Looking forward to tonight?" Fred asked from where he was crouched beside her. She glanced over at him, surprised to find he hadn't followed in his sister's footsteps – it certainly seemed like something he'd do – but she wasn't about to complain.

"I guess so," she replied, glancing over at him, taking in his red cheeks and pink nose, blue eyes seeming to sparkle in the sunlight reflecting off the pure white snow. "More excited to see the Weird Sisters live than anything else," she admitted with a smile.

"What made you decide to go with George?" he asked, and she looked back at him from where she'd been peeking around the tree.

"I just want to have a good time," she told him simply. "And I rarely have much fun with anyone other than with a Weasley twin, so it was really a no-brainer."

Fred smiled, but something about the expression was off. It was his eyes, she realised. They were sad.

"Fred?" she asked quietly, forgetting about the battle they were in the middle of, concern strong in her gut.

He looked back at her, frowning like he were struggling to find the words, but before he could say whatever he needed to, there was a shout from over by the archway. "Ginny! Winona! It's five o'clock!" Hermione called to them.

Confused, Winona popped her head out from behind the tree. "Practising for a job as a wristwatch, Hermione?" she called back.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We need to go get ready!" she said, but it only served to make Winona more confused.

"Now?" she asked, incredulous. "We have hours!"

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you're running late!" Hermione replied tartly.

Winona grumbled but reluctantly stood to her feet. Maybe Hermione had a point. She'd never gotten dressed up for a ball before, maybe it took longer than she thought? She ducked gracefully out of the way of an oncoming snowball, and George called out to her in a whine, "Hey, no fair! You can't use your inner eye in a snow battle!"

Winona didn't bother replying, lifting her hand in a wave. "I'll see you guys tonight," she told them quickly, collecting her bag from where it lay under the shelter of a bench. Ginny and Hermione were waiting in the archway, and Winona hurried to meet them.

"Hermione, who're you going with?" Ron yelled after his friend, but she ignored him with a distant wave and led the way back up to the dorms.

As they climbed through the portrait hole, Winona noticed that Ginny looked awfully reluctant to begin getting ready. She picked up on why rather quickly. "You wanna come get ready with us, Ginger?" she asked the third year kindly.

"You don't have to offer…" Ginny said politely.

"I know," Winona replied. "But you're the only one from your dorm going tonight, right?" she asked. "Wouldn't you rather get ready with people who are?"

Ginny smiled, relieved. "Thanks, Winnie," she said gladly.

"Go get your things and meet me in my dorm," she replied, turning to Hermione as they paused at the fourth year girls' room. "You wanna join us, 'Mione?" she offered.

"It's okay," Hermione replied. "Lavender already promised to let me borrow her things to get ready."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later," Winona said, waving at her as she moved further down the hall, slipping into her own room only to freeze in the doorway.

It was rather like some kind of glamour bomb had gone off in their dorm. Clothes and make up brushes and shoes and lingerie were strewn across the room, coating every surface. Angelina was using her wand to try and straighten her hair, and Alicia was beside Hope on her bed, and they were painting one another's nails.

"Took you long enough," Angelina tutted as Winona stepped fully into the room. "At this rate, you'll only be late."

Winona rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna go take a shower," she said, moving over to the bathroom – which, in all honesty, looked just as messy as the dorm – and sealed herself inside.

The spray was heavenly, and Winona took her sweet time washing her hair with her favourite lavender shampoo, scrubbing her skin with a loofa to try and get the charcoal stains off, and then painstakingly shaved, making sure every last bit of unwanted hair was gone.

She changed into a robe, then wandered out into the dorm again to see Angelina standing in the mirror, still toying with her hair to make it perfect. Ginny had joined them, perched on Winona's bed as she ran a brush through her fiery hair. Alicia and Hope were done with their nails, but when Alicia saw Winona reappear, she waved her over.

"You've got to do your nails too," she said eagerly.

"Uh, I've never painted my nails before," Winona admitted.

"I'll do it for you," Alicia offered immediately, giving her friend a sunny smile. "Black, to match your shoes?" she said, and Winona nodded her head, sitting down on the bed and holding out her hands, letting Alicia do as she wished.

The girls chattered easily about the coming night. They spoke about how handsome their dates were going to look, and whether they'd be any good at dancing. Winona and Ginny were most excited about the Weird Sisters' performance, but the other girls didn't seem to care as much.

Once Alicia was done with her nails, Winona let Hope do her makeup. She wasn't sure what any of it was meant to do, and simply kept her eyes shut, allowing Hope to do as she wished. When she was told to look, Winona glanced in the mirror to see her cheeks holding a soft blush, her lips a deep, enticing red, and her eyes framed with charcoal-like shadow.

"It's called smokey-eye," Hope informed her.

"It's great," Winona replied honestly. Hope smiled wide, moving over to help Ginny with her makeup too.

"All right, Winnie," said Angelina bracingly, waving her over to the chair in front of the mirror, "time for your hair."

"You guys know I can get ready by myself, you know?" Winona asked dryly.

Her friends all exchanged a long look. "Winnie, your idea of dressing up is a messy bun and a sweater without any holes," said Alicia, gentle but stern all the same.

"So?" she asked, frowning.

"So, this calls for something just a _little_ more special," Angelina said, patient and soft. Sighing, Winona had to admit they had a point. She could barely draw on eyeliner, let alone get ready for a ball. Ginny was grinning from over beside Alicia, who was now painting her nails, too.

Angelina toyed with her hair for awhile, then began to curl it up with rollers. Winona knew they were to make her hair curly, and she stayed still while Angelina muttered some gentle, unfamiliar heating spells on her hair before slowly unrolling the hair.

It was a rather simple process, but Winona was surprised by how effective it was. Her hair now had a buoyancy to it that it hadn't before. Her mess of white-blonde tresses now fell around her face in soft, beachy curls.

"You like it?" Angelina asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Winona assured her. "It's gorgeous, Ange. Thanks."

Angelina smiled, patting her gently on the shoulder before wandering over to Ginny, chatting excitedly about something or other. With a glance at the clock, Winona saw it was steadily approaching seven-thirty. Alicia, Hope and Ginny were already in their dresses, each looking just as beautiful as the last.

With a small sigh, Winona wandered over to where her gown for the evening was hanging by the bathroom door.

She slowly pulled it on, careful with the fabric. It didn't look too delicate, but she'd never worn anything so beautiful before, and she didn't want to risk breaking or tearing it.

"Wow, Winnie," breathed Alicia once she'd turned around to face them. "You look stunning."

Winona only smiled in thanks, sitting down on her bed beside a nervous-looking Ginny and slowly pulled on her mum's ring, twisting it around her finger and smiling at it gently before standing on bare feet and padding over to the full-length mirror in the corner.

Her dress was the deepest burgundy, tight at the waist and bust, rather as she imagined a corset might be. Her cleavage was on tasteful display, and her shoulders and arms free of sleeves. The dress then swept into long, willowy skirts of a slightly lighter shade. It played beautifully against the smokey quality of her makeup, and her bright blonde hair seemed to glisten in the lights, creating a sort of halo around her head.

She'd never before looked so pretty, she realised with a silent sigh, running her hands gently down the front of her dress.

"Guys, it's nearly eight," said Angelina, who was now dressed in her gown too. It was tight down her entire body, hugging her generous curves and made from a deep purple, velvety material. "We should get going," she told them, unmistakeable excitement to her voice.

The others stood to their feet, all making eagerly for the door. Winona knew she was forgetting something, and it took her a moment to realise it was her shoes.

"You guys go, I'll catch up," she told them, and they didn't argue, laughing excitedly amongst themselves as they slipped from the room, Ginny close behind.

Winona was glad for the few minutes alone to gather herself. She sat on her bed, slowly pulling on the gorgeous, towering heels she'd gotten that morning. They were much more comfortable to wear than she'd expected, which she supposed was thanks to the Cushioning Charm they had cast on them.

She glanced down at her bag, the one she was never, ever without, and realised for the first time with a sinking feeling that she couldn't bring it.

What would happen if she had a vision? She'd never gone anywhere without it before … but at the same time, there was a small note of relief to her when she thought about spending the night without it. She wasn't going to be the 'Seer' tonight. She was just going to be a girl having fun with her friends in a beautiful dress.

Winona glanced to the doorway, feeling strangely like the moment she stepped through it, something was going to change. She couldn't put into words exactly what it was, but it was there all the same, strong and hot in her gut.

She squared her shoulders and moved through it, closing the door gently after her. It shut with a low click, and she turned, heading down the hall towards the stairs.

The shoes may have had a Balancing Charm on them, but there was still the risk that she might trip on her skirts on the way down, so she lifted them up and kept her eyes on her feet as she slowly wandered down the stairs to the common room.

The room was full of a low, excited buzz of chatter, and as she reached the flat ground there was a loud, appreciative whistle that stood out from the hum of noise. Winona looked up to see George grinning at her cheekily, his arm held out for her to take.

"Hey, Georgie," she greeted him with a smile, taking his arm.

"We should go now, before my date shows up and sees us together," he joked. "Maybe you've heard of her? Winona Andrews?"

Winona rolled her eyes so hard it nearly gave her a headache. She reached up to slap him gently upside the head, a move more affectionate than reprimanding. "Where're the others?" she asked instead of playing into his cheesy lines.

"They were eager to get down to the Great Hall, so they already left," he told her with a shrug.

"Thanks for waiting," she said, leaning into him in a quick hug.

"As if I'd let someone as beautiful as you walk down on her own," he replied with a large shit-eating grin on his lips.

"Enough with the compliments," she said with a nudge at his side, an exasperated smile on her face. "It might go to my head."

"Wait till Freddie sees you," he added, somewhat offhanded and casual, but it made Winona's pulse speed up and her mouth go dry. She covered it with a fleeting smile, reaching out to tug at the collar of his dress robes.

"You look handsome in these," she told him. "Who knew a Weasley twin could scrub up so nice?"

"Not me, that's for sure," he joked, and they giggled together as he led her out into the hall. They made their way down to the Great Hall slowly, unconcerned with being late. They chatted quietly about nothing in particular, just enjoying one another's company as they strolled through the empty halls of the castle.

It was comfortable and easy, and she wished it could last. A whole evening of that, strolling with her friend and laughing at the suits of armour they passed, all of them singing awkward, incomplete Christmas carols.

The entrance hall was flooded with people, and as they made it to the grand staircase, George grinned widely before leaping onto the bannister and sliding down it with a shout of playful glee.

When he reached the bottom, McGonagall was already there to hiss at him in sharp reprimand. Winona grinned widely as she gripped her extravagant skirts in one hand, walking cautiously down the stairs. She felt eyes on her, but that wasn't unusual. Ever since Skeeter's article had come out, stares had been following her everywhere she went.

So she didn't look up until she was at the bottom, finally lifting her head with that hint of an amused smile still playing at her carefully painted lips from George's antics, to see it wasn't the room as a whole looking at her, but rather just one person in particular.

Fred stood across the room in a small group comprised of Angelina, Lee and his Hufflepuff date, and Alicia and her Ravenclaw date. Angelina was talking, saying something that was making the others laugh, but Fred wasn't paying her so much as a lick of attention. Instead he was focused solely and completely on Winona.

Her heart began to race, and her mouth went dry. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, meeting his gaze across the room. His eyes seemed luminescent in the lights of the hall, and there was such indescribable emotion within them that Winona felt her cheeks warm, no doubt adding to the blush on her face.

He was looking at her like she wasn't sure he ever had, and it made her feel hot and cold all at once. He was staring at her with absolute focus, and she could practically feel him thinking from all the way at the opposite end of the room.

He looked especially handsome in his dress robes, a bowtie sitting at his throat that shouldn't have been so tempting, but totally was. His hair, although long and shaggy, seemed to flicker like fire in the fairy lights above.

As she stared at him, she noticed his eyes roaming her body, taking in the magnificence of her dress and the way her blonde hair hung, curled and springy, around her face. He met her eyes again, and there was no smile on his face, only a deep sort of sadness that confused her. What did he have to be sad about?

Winona watched as Angelina said something to him, but he didn't appear to hear it, too caught up in staring across the room at her. She grew impossibly warmer.

"Miss Andrews," came McGonagall's voice, cutting across the tornado of thoughts and doubts and hopes and wishes wreaking havoc in her head. She flinched, swinging around to stare guiltily at her Head of House, as though having been caught doing something she shouldn't. "I trust you'll keep your date for the evening under control?"

"Yes, Professor," Winona quickly agreed, trying not to grin at the twinkle in George's eyes. "No more sliding down bannisters for you, Mr Weasley," she added to George in a spot-on impression of McGonagall that the witch herself certainly did not appreciate.

"At least _try_ not to embarrass me tonight, you two," McGonagall sighed, her crisp Scottish accent lilting, and Winona gave her a lazy salute that made her professor grimace. "Finnigan! What are you doing with that?!" she snapped suddenly, scurrying away to put out yet another fire for the evening.

"Shall we go inside?" George asked Winona, holding out an arm.

"Lead the way, good sir," she said, taking his arm and letting him guide the way into the Great Hall. It was absolutely breathtaking, decorated to perfection. The walls had all been covered in glittering silver frost, and hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy were crossing the starry black ceiling, like. The whole hall smelt of cinnamon and fresh spices. The House tables had vanished, replaced by roughly a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

George spotted Alicia, Fred, Angelina and Lee sitting at one table at the far right, and guided Winona towards them. George pulled out the chair beside Fred for Winona to take, and although she frowned at the strange move, she didn't argue, sitting down and making sure her skirts were centred before pulling her chair in further.

George took the seat on her left, and as he sat down immediately roped Lee and his date into a lively discussion about Quidditch.

Winona didn't join in to the conversation. She felt suddenly voiceless and awkward, like her every nerve was focused with laser-like precision on where Fred was sat beside her.

He wasn't looking at her, but rather at Alicia across the table, who was saying something about hoping they had a vegetarian option for the feast. But she couldn't help but feel like his attention wasn't on the conversation. His back was straight, shoulders tense, and she wondered whether he felt the same prickling at his skin with her close proximity as she did. She focused on breathing steadily, pretending to nod along to whatever Lee was talking about now, and she was beyond relieved when the feast began.

She scanned the options on her menu, deciding on the lamb and stating it aloud, watching as it materialised on her plate.

She allowed herself to get caught up in the conversation throughout dinner, focusing as best she could on what everyone was saying. It was easier now, the Great Hall buzzing with excitement and activity as everyone chattered and ate, and she even managed to nearly completely forget Fred or that lingering tension were even there.

He didn't seem to be talking much, which certainly helped things along. He ate his food and responded to whatever Angelina was telling him, saying all the right things at all the right times. Winona couldn't help but privately think that it sounded awfully rehearsed, like he were on autopilot, answering with as little engagement as possible.

Soon enough dinner was over, the tables were cleared and a small stage had been erected at the other end of the large, open space. Winona gasped as the Weird Sisters themselves trudged onto the stage, hairy as could be, wearing artfully ripped robes and gripping their instruments confidently.

"It's them," she hissed, slapping George repeatedly on the arm in her excitement.

"Geez, Win," George laughed. "Take a breath."

"It's the _Weird Sisters_," she reminded him, just in case he'd somehow forgotten. She was practically bouncing on her toes as they began to play.

"Oh, watch out," George whispered. "Harry's dancing."

"Harry's dancing?" she parroted in surprise. Glancing over to the dance floor, she found Harry dancing awkwardly with Parvati Patil, stare vacant and unfocused. Winona reached up to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. Harry looked like he'd have rathered face the dragon again than be dancing in front of everyone like that.

Slowly people began to enter the dance floor after the champions, moving with their partners and beginning to dance along to the slow song the Weird Sisters were playing.

"Shall we?" George asked her, giving a playful bow and sweeping his hand in the direction of the dancing crowd.

"We shall," she agreed, taking his hand and letting him pull her into the throng. He settled one hand on her waist, and took the other in his, gripping tightly and slowly beginning to dance. It was comfortable, dancing with George, easy in a familiar way. He gave her a spin every few steps, and she laughed as he dipped her low to the floor.

"All right, Casanova," she snorted. "Stop showing off."

"What was that?" he asked loudly, as though he were hard of hearing. "Keep showing off?"

Winona laughed again, kicking him playfully in the shin. The slow song faded into nothing, and everyone stopped dancing, watching as the musicians on stage rearranged themselves to begin another song.

This one was faster, and almost immediately George had scooped her up, spinning her in so many circles that she began to feel dizzy. "George!" she shrieked, and he let her go to instead spin circles _around_ her, doing some kind of lively jig that made her giggle.

They danced for ages, twirling around one another, giggling up a storm. Eventually Katie wandered over, looking a little red in the eyes.

"You all right, Katie?" Winona asked in concern as she and George moved away from the dance floor, leading Katie over to an unoccupied corner.

"Ugh, just my date being an absolute troll," she bit out. "I don't want to talk about it."

George was frowning in concern, and he reached out to brush a hand down their friend's back. Winona took note of the tender worry in his eyes and quickly made plans to give them some space.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," she announced. "Either of you want anything?"

"I'm fine," Katie told her, glancing up at George with a small smile.

"Yeah, we're good, Win," he agreed as he took a seat on a bench off to the side.

Katie sat down after him, and Winona smiled as she wandered away, heading for the bar that had been set up at the back of the Hall. It was manned by a tall wizard with a goatee, and Winona leant against it, smiling at him politely. "One butterbeer, please?" she asked over the song the Weird Sisters were playing now, something she didn't know, loud and bombastic that the crowd seemed to love.

The wizard popped the top off the butterbeer bottle and handed it over. Winona took it with a smile.

"One for me, as well, good sir," came another voice, and she spun around to see Fred smiling down at her. The wizard behind the bar rolled his eyes at Fred's cheesy words, but handed over another bottle.

"Hey, Fred," she greeted him, trying to act casual, leaning her hip against the bar and smiling at him sweetly. "Are you having a good time?"

He hesitated to answer, and she wondered why. "It's been all right," he eventually said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug, picking idly at the label of his butterbeer. There was an uncomfortable look in his eyes, and she frowned in concern.

"Where's Ange?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder like Angelina might materialise from thin air.

"Bathroom," Fred replied, glancing away and anxiously tapping his finger against the glass of his bottle along to the beat of the song playing.

Winona reached out, placing her hand over the top of his to stop his fidgeting. "You okay?" she asked him gently, and he looked away from the crowd to meet her eyes.

"Dance with me," he said, sudden and unexpected.

She blinked in surprise. He was staring back at her, imploring and sincere. "Okay," she heard herself agree, as if powerless to say no. He took her drink from her hand, placing it beside his on the bar before reaching down and gripping her hand. His skin was warm and calloused and she felt herself flush as he intertwined their fingers, tugging her towards the crowd.

The were just at the edge of the dance floor when the song faded away. The pair stood for a moment in silence, waiting for the music to start up again, but instead the lead singer's voice spoke out over the crowd.

"Now, this one's for all the lovers out there. So grab ahold of that someone special and don't let go until they know you're theirs," he said, cheesy as could be, but Winona still felt her pulse spike.

The music started up, something slow and a little bit haunting; it was as romantic as it was sad.

"Maybe we should wait–" she tried to say, suddenly feeling like it were all too intimate for her, like it were all too _real_.

"Don't," was all Fred said, gripping her hand and stubbornly refusing to let go. It wasn't an order, but rather a plea. Turning back around to look at him, Winona watched as he moved slowly, reaching for her waist but giving her plenty of time to pull away. She didn't so much as move a muscle.

Fred's fingers found the seam where her bodice met her skirt, and his large hand splayed against her spine, pulling her closer into him.

It suddenly felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. She felt a hot flush come over her, and she could hear her heart racing in her ears as she reached up automatically, threading her arms around his strong, broad shoulders.

In her heels, they were almost the same height, she realised with a start. She didn't have to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. It was as nice as it was dangerous, and Winona swallowed thickly, looking away.

He seemed to notice the same. "You're taller."

"Heels," she explained, her voice soft. She was just glad it didn't tremble with nerves. She felt unsettled, scared and thrilled in the strangest way. Nothing had happened between them, and it was only _Fred_ … so then why was her heart fluttering and her skin prickling? Why was her body so hyper-aware that he was so close, his cool breath brushing her warm skin? She needed to speak, to say something before it got to be too much. "I like this song," she whispered, chancing a glance up into his eyes.

"It's a good one," he agreed, sounding a little throaty himself.

They lapsed back into silence which, while tight with tension, wasn't uncomfortable. The music swelled and they drifted closer to one another as if made of magnets. Without anywhere else to angle her head, Winona pressed it gently to his shoulder and subtly breathed in the familiar scent of gunpowder and fresh soil.

Both his hands pressed against her waist, large and capable, and she inhaled at the pressure of him gripping her, like he wanted never to let go. Her heart was beating so loud she was sure he could hear it, and she shut her eyes, sealing out the world around them, focusing on the feel of him against her.

It was peaceful and warm, swaying gently in Fred's embrace. She couldn't remember a time she'd ever felt safer than right at that moment, in his arms.

The song drew to a close and Winona was surprised by the reluctance she felt to have to leave her dance with Fred. Slowly they drew apart, and she glanced up at him from under her lashes to find him smiling at her, soft and happy, so different to his typical gleeful, mischievous grins.

She felt like he could see into her soul in that moment. Like he could see and understand with perfect clarity exactly what she was; and that he loved what he saw. She felt both vulnerable and safe under his familiar, warm blue stare.

She couldn't have possibly guessed what was going through his head in that moment, but he seemed to be warring with himself, or perhaps trying to find words to say. She felt an energy, hot and intense, crackle between them, the likes of which she'd ever before experienced – not even with Jeremiah.

Fred seemed to finally pick something to say, and he parted his lips, taking a breath to speak, and she felt like everything she was hinged on whatever he would say. But before he could get so much as a word out, a voice cut across the pair, sharp and unhappy.

"Fred," said Angelina, her voice hard enough to cut diamonds.

Winona leapt away from Fred as though she'd just been caught committing a crime. Cheeks hot with something that wasn't _quite_ shame, but certainly came close, she shot her two friends a weak smile. "I'm gonna go check on George," she said, praying to Merlin himself that her voice sounded more steady to her ears than it did to theirs.

Without looking at either Fred or Angelina, Winona spun on her heel and made a beeline over to the corner of the room where George remained, still talking with Katie, who looked a whole lot more cheerful than she had earlier.

"Sorry to interrupt," Winona said insincerely as she leant down between them, grasping the front of George's dress robes in her hand and yanking him unceremoniously to his feet. He gave a yelp, helpless to do anything but follow. "I need to speak with you," she snapped at her best friend urgently.

"I'll be back soon – save me a dance?" George asked Katie with a wide, confident smirk.

Katie rolled her eyes but still nodded her head, a smile on her pink lips. Winona barely waited for the exchange to be over, forcefully yanking him in the opposite direction.

George stumbled as he was dragged across the room towards the entrance entrance hall, but Winona barely noticed, laser-like focus on her objective. "_Winnie_," George finally said as they pulled to a stop at the foot of the main staircase, voice laced with exasperation and just a hint of concern. "What's the matter?"

Most everyone was still in the Great Hall, enjoying the music and drinks, which worked out nicely, because the last thing Winona needed was anyone else nosing around while she and George had this conversation.

"Win, you look like you've seen a ghost or something," George said, eyeing her carefully, taking in her wide, confused eyes and the way her hair was beginning to frizz a little with stress. "Last I saw you, you were dancing with Fred, and you looked fine – _better_ than fine, even," he added with a playful and suggestive wag of his eyebrows.

Winona didn't quite know where to begin, but she knew she had to unload onto someone, otherwise her head just might explode under the weight of it all. She could have gone to Harry, but she was sure the last thing he wanted was his older cousin coming to him with something so touchy-feely and awkward. Besides, the poor kid had enough on his plate, like trying to get through this tournament in one piece.

"I'm confused," she began stiltedly, the words drenched with indecision and hesitance.

"You're usually confused, Win," George replied teasingly. "You'll have to be slightly more specific."

"If you can't be serious for the next five minutes, I'll permanently curse your bollocks to your forehead," she threatened him point-blank. George blinked in surprise at the severity with which she spoke, a deep kind of panic in her expressive grey eyes.

"All right," he said, smirk dropping from his face, replaced by something much more subdued and appropriate. "What's wrong?"

Winona couldn't possibly sit still, her body just wouldn't allow it. She began to pace the stone floor of the entrance hall, going back and forth between the two pillars that stood on either side of the grand staircase.

"So, I'm confused about something … something in particular. It's been driving me a little crazy – doing my head in, actually," she muttered, only just loud enough for George to hear. She didn't immediately elaborate, and George cocked an eyebrow at her in a question she couldn't answer.

"You know that for me to help, you'll have to actually tell me what the problem is, right?"

"Don't get clever," she replied in a snap. George just shot her his most exasperated expression and Winona forced herself to take a deep, sighing breath. She wondered how she could possibly phrase this so she didn't sound like a complete and utter idiot. "Things have been changing, lately," she began again, heart thundering like the hooves of a horse were beating at her chest, "between me and … me and …"

She couldn't seem to get the name out. It felt like saying it would make it all awfully, horribly, terrifyingly real.

"Between you and Fred," George finished in knowing voice. Winona snapped around to eye him suspiciously, as though he might have performed Legilimency on her to see the answer inside her head. George seemed to sense her thoughts, and he rolled her eyes as though she were being ridiculous. "Winona, just because you're thick as a brick when it comes to matters of the heart, doesn't mean the rest of us are," he said wryly.

Winona grimaced at the remark. "I need your _help_, not your carefully crafted insults," she said with a huff. His words sank in, and her expression narrowed into something of a panicked stare. "What d'you mean, 'matters of the heart'?"

George smiled, gentle but infuriatingly smug. She supposed it was too much to ask a Weasley twin to be serious longer than ten seconds. Winona ground her teeth together in frustration.

"I was wondering when you might catch on. Certainly took you longer than I'd thought. You're one stubborn bird, you know that?" he asked, torn between coy and amused.

"George, please don't speak in riddles. You know I haven't got the patience for it."

"Why don't you tell me, in your own words, what's happening on your end?" George asked with an air of patience, like they had all the time in the world.

"On _my_ end?"

"Winona."

She huffed again, her palms sweaty and her insides quaking as she crossed her arms over the material of her gown, like it might protect her from any sort of emotional harm. She knew it was time to be honest, not just with George, but with herself, as well.

"I appear to maybe, sort of, perhaps be slightly … _attracted_ to Fred," she confessed, suddenly feeling astonishingly like an exposed wire, sparking and dangerous and, in all seriousness, a potential a fire hazard.

She wasn't sure how she'd been expecting George to react, but she somehow knew that his unsurprised, indifferent expression hadn't been what she'd had in mind. "Since when?" he asked evenly.

Winona swallowed around the lump in her throat. "I don't know," she replied, and George shot her his most unimpressed stare at the non-answer. "It's true. I didn't just wake up one day and it was _there_," she said defensively. "It's more like something that's been building up for awhile now. It's something I've only just begun to even acknowledge, let alone accept."

By now all traces of teasing were gone from his eyes, replaced by a thoughtful, considering sort of a gleam. It was the same look the twins got in the early planning stages of a massive prank, she realised, but rather than make her uneasy, the comparison was a strangely comforting one.

"So what're you gonna do about it?" George asked her, the words a challenge she hardly felt ready accept.

She let out a loud, borderline derisive scoff. "Are you kidding?" she countered dubiously. "It's _Fred_," she reminded him tartly, as though it were all the answer he needed. It wasn't, and they both knew it, but Winona didn't move to elaborate. "Besides … he has Ange," she added with a wave of her hand, as though batting the very suggestion away.

"And you have Nott," finished George with a hard set of his mouth.

"No," she said immediately, the words defensive but nonetheless true. "I don't _have_ Nott. We're not a couple – we never were. Besides, he only tolerated me because I was so good at–"

"For the love of all that is sacred, do _not_ finish that sentence!" George exclaimed, hands shooting to cover his ears in a panic.

Winona rolled her eyes. "I was going to say snogging," she informed him wryly, but was unable to help but give just a tiny, vindictive kind of a smirk. "But yeah, that too."

George recoiled like she'd hit him with a hex, disgust spread clear across his face. "You know you're my best mate, right?" he asked her, voice still laced with revolt. "You're practically _family._"

"Don't you see, that's part of it!" she jumped on his words. "I might as well be Fred's sister," she hissed, sliding back into the argument with fervour.

George suddenly looked incredibly condescending. "Win, I know you're not exactly the most emotionally available person, and that your awareness of the world around you is tenuous at best," he told her, deadpan and sly, and she scowled at him for the dig, "but surely it's not escaped your notice that Fred _hardly_ thinks of you as a sister."

Winona just frowned in bewilderment, and George sighed as though this were all terribly taxing.

"Look, I promised Fred a long time ago that I wouldn't betray his trust on the matter," he began bracingly, as though working himself up to something. "But this is getting ridiculous."

He turned to face Winona properly, gripping her shoulders tightly and forcing her to look him directly in the eye, speaking slowly and deliberately, making sure that there was no chance of miscommunication.

"Winona, Fred fancies you."

The words didn't quite seem to compute.

She'd known, on some level, that the attraction she shared with Fred wasn't totally one-sided. That kind of electricity couldn't possibly be something only she felt, and sometimes the way he _looked_ at her…

It was enough to set her bones themselves on fire.

But that he fancied her? Really, properly _fancied_ her? That was a little much to take in.

"You mean he thinks I'm fit?" she asked, still struggling to understand.

George looked about ready to smash his head against the marble of the stairs in exasperation. "Believe it or not, Winona, not everything's about sex," he told her with another huff. Her cheeks grew warm at the implication, but even she had to admit it was warranted.

"But he's dating Ange," she said, still scrambling to wrap her head around this mind-blowing fact.

George grimaced, letting go of his friends shoulders and seeming reluctant to answer. "It's not his brightest move, I'll give you that," he began steadily, still cringing like something about his brother's actions was cringe-worthy. "Ange is great, and he likes her, but…"

Winona said nothing, waiting impatiently for him to finish.

"I think he thinks that if he dates Ange long enough, maybe he'll stop having feelings for you," George admitted with yet another wince.

Winona swallowed. "Is it working?"

"No," George told her point-blank. He cast a glance to the doorway to the Great Hall, from which the sounds of music and youthful levity was still floating. "In fact," he said grimly, "I think it might only be getting worse." He stopped suddenly, looking back over at her with fiery curiosity in his eyes. "Why?" he asked keenly. "Do you _want_ it to be working?"

Winona suddenly felt very tired. Her legs threatened to give out, so she dropped down with a grunt, landing on the second step from the bottom, the soft tresses of her burgundy skirts settling around her legs, the tips of her platformed heels poking out just slightly from under the hem.

George took a seat on the step beside her, his dress robes crinkling, but he wasn't one to care any more than she was.

"I don't know," she finally answered him in a whisper, running her fingers through the material of her skirts, her mind a flurry of contrasting thoughts. Hope and panic and fear and relief and dread were all warring for pride of place in her head, and on her face.

"You fancy him back," said George, the furthest thing from a question.

"I don't know," she said again.

"Yes, you do."

And yes, she did. But it was _Fred_. There was so much to weigh – did she want to start something with her best friend in the whole world, risking the bond and relationship they had in the first place? Was whatever they had just the slightest chance of potentially becoming … would that be worth it? Did she even _want_ something serious with _anyone_, let alone him?

It felt rather like she were standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether to dive into the turbulent waters below.

"Why has he never said anything?" she asked, frown pinching at her brow.

"For the exact same reasons as you, I s'pose," George replied, and she slumped further against the stairs, glancing up at the ceiling, her mind racing at a million miles an hour.

Winona swallowed around the dryness of her mouth. "Well, what happens now?" she asked him quietly, desperate for some direction.

"Oh no no no," said George around a slightly hysterical laugh. "I'm not getting any more involved in this than I already am. This is between you and Fred – I'm going to end up as a third wheel in the future enough as it is."

"You say that like we're inevitable."

George smiled. "I guess, in some ways, I've always known you would be."

Winona looked away from the holly-decorated ceiling and over at George, a frown pulling at her brows. Her heart was still racing. It felt like it had been all night. When would it stop? "How?" she asked him quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Were there signs she'd missed? Occurrences she'd overlooked? Things said that she'd brushed off as nothing? It certainly felt like she'd analysed every aspect of the last five and a half years, going over every interaction she and Fred had ever had.

"A brother's instinct, I s'pose," George replied with just a hint of cheek, not seeming to sense the spiral of deafening doubt roaring in her head. She attempted a smile to keep it that way, but it fell flat. George suddenly grew serious, and she shifted warily, watching as he looked back at her intently. "But I think you need to do _something_," he admitted quietly. "Things can't go on the way they have been."

"Why not?" she asked, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could, and nothing ever had to change.

"Because it's like a cord," he told her, the analogy honest and sincere as he met her stormy grey eyes. "And the tension is pulling it tighter and tighter. Sooner or later, Win, it's going to snap."

Winona knew with a horrible, sinking feeling that he was, unfortunately, right. "That was strangely poetic for you," she replied, but her voice lacked its usual teasing note, filled instead with weak exhaustion.

"I can be poetic," he argued, the usual glint of levity reappearing in his eyes. Winona felt relief like a shot of morphine at the sight of the familiar twinkle.

She smiled tiredly, beginning to lose her ability to engage. All she wanted now was to burrow under her covers and fall asleep, so that the world and her silly problems might disappear for just awhile.

"Are you okay?" George asked gently, and Winona realised she'd been staring absently into thin air, her mind in a million places at once, none of them being in that entrance hall with him.

"Yeah," she said, a blatant lie. "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

George's expression twisted in something like dismay. "At least stay until midnight," he encouraged her hopefully. "The Weird Sisters haven't even finished their set yet."

But the last thing Winona wanted was to walk back into that ball, where Angelina and Fred were no doubt still dancing along to the music the Weird Sisters were playing. She didn't want to have to meet Fred's eyes, now knowing what she knew, and pretend like everything was the same.

"Sorry, George," she said shooting him a smile that, while not insincere, also wasn't totally genuine. "I know I've been a lousy date."

George waved her words away. "Don't be stupid, Win," he scolded her gently. "You couldn't be a lousy date if you tried."

She leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder with a small sigh. George brought his arm around her, squeezing softly, providing a comfort that went beyond words.

"I'll see you in the morning?" she asked after a long few minutes of easy, comfortable quiet, the only noise the sounds of the ball – beginning to slowly wind down – that leaked through the doors leading to the Great Hall.

"More like afternoon," George laughed lightly, and this time when she smiled, it held a touch more warmth.

"Thanks, Georgie," she said, nudging him affectionately. George stood gracefully to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up after him. She stood, smiling once more before turning to escape up the staircase. "Oh, and George?" she called before leaving. Her best friend turned back to look at her, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Would it be pointless of me to ask you not to mention this to Fred?" she asked gingerly.

George smiled, unsurprised, like he'd been expecting the question. "As I said, Win," he told her steadily, "this is between you and him."

She hesitated another moment. "And if we don't progress at the speed you want?" she pressed, seeing through him like glass.

Now George's smile was really more of a sly, mischievous smirk. "Well, I may just have to prod at it a little," he said, impishness sparking in his eyes. "Y'know, just to keep things moving along."

Instead of the words scaring her, she felt a strange comfort. She trusted George with everything she had. He would never do anything that would hurt her, or his twin brother. He really did, in the most sincere way, have their best interests at heart.

"Thanks, George," she said again. He grinned, waving her gratitude away again and straightening his bowtie with a flourish. Winona turned and climbed the stairs, the smile melting from her face like ice left out in the sun. It was replaced with the strangest feeling of loneliness, and a deep, haunting confusion that she knew she was going to be carrying for quite awhile yet.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed: This week's spotlight review is_ xXThatRandomKidXx –_ I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for your kind words about my writing, reviews like yours make me so happy! Hope you liked this one, and more of what's to come!**


	39. So long as it's the truth

Boxing Day dawned and since Winona hadn't slept at all the night before, she watched the sun as it rose over the mountains in the distance. The girls were all asleep in their beds, and when it grew closer to when they would wake she retreated back into her bed and securely shut the curtains, sealing her inside.

Pulling out her watercolours, she silently painted, and painted and painted, until her hand was cramped and her neck hurt from craning over the paper. It was the only way she knew to calm herself, to keep from drowning in her own swirling thoughts.

Her dorm mates began to wake, but Winona didn't make a sound, just dabbing the end of her brush against her sketchbook, layering colour over colour, the artwork an outpouring of her inner turmoil.

Angelina and Alicia were talking to one another in low voices, but Winona didn't care to listen in. She focused all of her attention on her piece, blocking them out as she worked. She wondered, at one point, whether they might try and wake her. But then she heard the door creak shut as they left for lunch in the Great Hall.

Once she was sure she was alone, Winona called for Dobby, then asked him to bring her some food. She ate quickly, purely so she wouldn't feel faint, then turned her full attention back to her sketchbook.

Nobody came looking for her, for which she had to admit she was grateful. She needed time alone, space to clear the fog in her brain. There was so much going on up in her head, it was like a brass band was playing on a loop.

She didn't know what to do – did she confront Fred about his supposed 'feelings'? Did she make a move and hope for the best? Was 'the best' even something she _wanted_? And what about Angelina? How would she play into this whole thing? Would their friendship be ruined forever?

There were so many uncertainties, so many possibilities that her head was swimming with them. She wished, abruptly, that she could see the future, if only to know what she should do next.

It took her an embarrassingly long amount of time to realise that was probably the one thing she actually _could_ do. Slapping herself lightly on the face, she hurried to set her herbal candles burning, opening her sketchbook to a brand new page and pulling out a simple stick of charcoal.

Then she shut her eyes and began to _search._

Like a gushing river made up of endless possibility, the future was a dangerous thing. Go in too deep and you could get caught in the current of the water, never to come out again.

But Winona had been practising. She'd been learning and listening and testing the waters on her own. She wasn't an expert by any stretch of the word, but she knew how to navigate the current of time well enough to know she wouldn't drown.

But just because she was good at it now, that didn't mean her Inner Eye was eager to comply. She dipped her feet into the river, but nothing came. She could see flickers, faraway snippets of possibilities that teased her with their blurriness, but nothing concrete slipped by.

Coming out of her trance, Winona blinked down at the blank page in front of her, disappointment like a brick in her gut. Why was it that, when it mattered most, she couldn't make herself See anything?

"_Maybe because your motives are selfish, this time…_" an unwelcome little voice whispered inside of her head, one that sounded strangely like Dumbledore, and she exhaled in a sharp puff, slamming her sketchbook shut and collapsing back into her pillows.

She wasted away the hours with her paints, and by the time dinner rolled around, she was ready to call for an elf to bring her something to eat – just so she wouldn't have to go down to the Great Hall and face Fred – when the door to the sixth years' dorm burst open.

Winona yelped in fright, and she didn't even have time to ask who it was before someone was ripping her curtains open. Light streamed in and Winona found herself staring into the eyes of an utterly unimpressed Ginny Weasley.

"Gin?" Winona asked in surprise, relaxing from where she'd been clutching her sketchbook to her chest in shock.

"What're you hiding up here for?" Ginny asked without preamble. But that was Ginny for you; always straight to the heart of the matter.

"I'm not _hiding_," Winona lied, already beginning to put away the various pencils and brushes she had scattered around herself like some kind of sad, artistic confetti.

"Then what are you doing?"

"…Sketching," she said, waving her sketchbook in the air like it was proof. Ginny hardly looked convinced. "Last night was draining. I wanted a day to myself. Is that a crime?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as though she were being awfully tiresome. "You think I don't know this is about Fred?"

Winona's hackles rose at the words. "What? How? Did George say something?" she demanded, but quickly realised her mistake as Ginny's expression melted from curiosity into something smug and victorious.

"Stab in the dark, actually," she said proudly. "But I'd say that just about tells me everything I need to know." Winona ground her teeth together in irritation, but Ginny's grin never wavered. "I saw you two dancing last night – did something happen?" she pressed stubbornly. Winona winced. "Something _did_ happen?" she gasped. "Oh Merlin, did you _snog_ him?" she asked in a horrified sort of a voice.

"No," Winona wanted to roll her eyes in exasperation, but kept from doing so in fear of igniting the little firecracker further. "It's nothing like that. Nothing happened – really," she insisted when Ginny's expression flattened in disbelief.

"Well, it certainly looked like you _wanted_ something to happen, while you were dancing with him," Ginny argued.

Winona winced again, uncomfortable under Ginny's watchful, knowing eyes. "What do you want, Ginny?"

To Winona's surprise, Ginny's cheeks turned a soft pink. "Harry asked me to check on you," she revealed. "I think he's worried because you weren't at lunch. I told him you were probably just hungover, but…" she said quietly, a meek sort of look to her eyes.

"What's going on there?" Winona asked coyly.

Ginny flushed an even darker red. "Leave it, Win."

"I'll leave you alone about my cousin, if you leave me alone about your brother," Winona bargained.

"That sounds an awful lot like extortion," Ginny grumbled.

"Hardly," Winona smiled, large and wolfish. "This is simply an agreement between friends."

Ginny hardly looked pleased, but she wasn't about to argue the truce Winona had just struck. "All right," she muttered with a sigh, before the expression abruptly turned into an impish sort of grin. "But the truce is over when I get to make my speech at the wedding," she said brightly.

"Are you looking to get hexed?"

Ginny grinned with all the brilliance of the sun. "Come on, Winnie," she said, reaching for her arm to forcefully tug her from her bed. "At the very least, put on some proper trousers and come eat something with the rest of us."

Winona grumbled back unintelligibly as she disappeared into the bathroom, brushing her teeth and hair, and washing her face before changing into an old pair of jeans and a blue, holey sweater.

"Lovely," Ginny smiled at the sight of her. "You look much more human now."

"What did I look like before?" Winona asked begrudgingly.

"Cross between a goblin and the giant squid."

"Great," she muttered, threading her ever-present bag over her shoulder and reluctantly trudging down from the dorm after Ginny. The common room was mostly empty, but Winona spied Harry, Ron and Hermione all standing by the fire, warming their hands with the flames.

"Found her," Ginny announced as they appeared. "But let me tell you, it wasn't easy getting her out of bed."

The trio broke away from their conversation to look at the two girls with varying degrees of interest. Winona cast the room a quick glance, relieved to find neither the twins, nor Lee or the girls, in the common room. They were probably already down at dinner, and Winona felt her shoulders slump with relief.

"You feeling all right, Winnie?" Harry asked her worriedly.

"Fine, Boy-Wonder," she replied, singing an arm around his shoulders and already beginning to drag him towards the doors. Now that she thought about it, she was getting rather hungry. "How was your night at the ball?" she asked conversationally as the group of them made their way down to the Great Hall, the others chatting lowly from behind them.

Harry grimaced like the last thing he wanted to think about was the ball from the night before. "More trouble than it was worth, really," he muttered, and Winona laughed at his honesty.

"You didn't dance with anyone interesting?" she pressed impishly.

Harry's grimace only deepened. "Hardly," he said, and she wholeheartedly believed him. "What about you?" he added, hoping to get the focus off himself. "You seemed to be having a good time early in the night. Lost track of you halfway through, though."

"You know me," she waved her hand as if swatting the question away. "So many dances, so little time," she said flippantly, although the feeling in her gut was anything but carefree. A sort of looming dread hung low in her stomach, making it feel like gravity was working extra hard to pull her down through the earth. She probably wouldn't complain if the ground offered to open up and swallow her whole. It would be a nice break from the rest of humanity, at least.

"We need to visit the library in the morning," Hermione was saying to Ron from behind them, her voice laced with authority. "The research _alone _for that essay in History of Magic is going to take the better part of a day to complete."

"Christmas was only yesterday, 'Mione," Ron argued back stubbornly. "Cut us some slack."

"OWLs are _next year_, Ron," she reminded him tartly. "We can't afford to slack off now. These exams aren't going to be easy. Just ask Winnie," she said, and Winona winced at being dragged into their usual bickering. It was irritating enough to witness, let alone be a part of. "Right?" she pressed when the sixth-year said nothing. "OWLs aren't exactly a walk in the park, are they?"

Winona glanced over at her cousin, who shot her a smirk at her forced involvement in the discussion. "They're really not," she sighed. "Hardest exams I've ever done. But then, to be fair, I barely did any study leading up to it. Just crammed like hell in the nights before," she admitted.

"And you still got _four_ OWLs," said Ron as though he'd just won the whole argument.

"Only four OWLs is nothing to brag about, Ronald," sniped Hermione sharply, then winced as she realised what she'd said. "Er, sorry, Winona," she said awkwardly.

Winona waved a hand indifferently. "If I got upset every time someone insulted my intelligence, I'd be a wreck," she replied. "Being blonde is as much a curse as it is a blessing, y'know?" she added with a flip of her pale hair. "You've no idea how many jokes I have to suffer through every day. Mainly from Lee."

The Great Hall was almost completely full by now, but the food had yet to appear. Winona walked up the aisle, following close to Harry's side and intending to sit with him and his friends, before she suddenly spied a familiar head of fiery red hair enthusiastically waving her over.

Harry saw George too, and he paused in his journey to the empty spots up at the other end of the table. "Are you still feeling sick?" he asked, noticing her hesitation.

"Nah," Winona said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Like I said, I'm fine."

She considered ignoring George and just following Harry to his place, but by now Lee and Alicia had spotted her as well, and they too were frantically waving her over, still half laughing from some joke they'd made. She knew she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen them, and choked back a sigh as she nudged Harry along.

"Enjoy dinner. I'll see you later?" she checked. Harry nodded his head, casting her a final, concerned sort of a look before following his friends further up the table.

Winona grit her teeth, took a deep, relaxing breath then pasted the most convincing smile she had onto her face and slid into the open seat between Alicia and Angelina. She'd only just barely sat down when the food magically appeared on the table, but not even that was enough to put a stopper in her friends' questions.

"Where've you been all day?" asked Lee, heaping more than his fair share of carrots onto a plate.

"I thought I heard you up early this morning, but then you were asleep when we woke up," added Alicia.

Not true, but Winona wasn't going to tell her that. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Too much to drink last night," she said flippantly as she chose pork chops from the pile, then heaped the steamed broccoli onto her plate. She hadn't been planning to look up at Fred, but like they were magnetised, she glanced at him in the same moment he glanced at her.

She was expecting it to be full of awkward tension – which was ridiculous, really, because nothing had even _happened_ between them – but instead he cracked a smile, small and tentative, testing the waters. Relief shot through her veins like the effects of a potion, and she smiled back, pointedly ignoring the way her heart raced in her chest.

George was doing a terrible job of trying not to look satisfied with the brief, subtle exchange, and Winona kicked him in the shin in reprimand. He grunted into his carrots and she gave a satisfied smirk of her own.

Dinner went by easily, Alicia, George and Lee carrying most of the conversation – something about whether or not McGonagall and Dumbledore were ever a thing.

"Impossible," Winona murmured to Fred across the table.

"Why?" he asked back, mostly focused on the debate their friends were having.

"Let's just say that Dumbledore beats for the other team," she muttered. Fred promptly choked on his pumpkin juice.

From her left, Angelina was strangely silent. She didn't even engage in their friends' lively discussion about their Headmaster's love life, which Winona thought was odd. But she didn't know how to bring it up, so contented herself with chuckling at their friends' debate and struggling to ignore the tingle of awareness she felt at Fred's close proximity.

Dinner ended and they all moved with the flow of the students making their way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Okay, but you've gotta admit, Dumbledore has no game," Lee was arguing stubbornly.

"Like you'd know anything about _game_," scoffed Alicia.

Winona laughed, winding arms with the quick-witted girl and grinning at a pouting Lee.

"What do you mean? I have game. I _ooze_ game!"

"Not something you want to shout in a busy corridor, Lee," Winona told him with a large grin of amusement.

"You're just bitter 'cause you're single," he sniped back quickly.

"And you're not?" she countered.

"Please," scoffed Alicia. "If Lee had ever _actually_ managed to pull, he'd be shouting it from the Astronomy Tower."

Winona laughed along with the others, the sound growing when Lee pouted again. They climbed through the portrait hole into the semi-crowded common room. "Anyone up for an Exploding Snap tournament?" Lee asked them eagerly, pulling a small bundle of cards from his pocket.

There was agreements all around – except for Angelina, who declined with a quiet, "I think I'm just gonna head up to bed."

"Oh, come on, Ange," bemoaned Katie. "Play a few rounds with us!"

"No, thanks. Too tired," said Angelina shortly, before turning and padding up the stairs towards the dormitories. The others stared after her, all left with a feeling of discontent at the abrupt exit.

"What's that about?" Alicia demanded, turning to narrow her eyes at Fred in accusation. "What did you do?"

"What?" Fred squawked. "Me? I didn't do anything."

"Of course you did something," scoffed Katie. "She was wearing her 'Fred Did Something' face."

"No, she wasn't," he argued petulantly. "And there isn't a _face_ for that."

Katie, Lee and Alicia exchanged slightly sympathetic looks, as if poor Fred was just beyond help in such matters. Winona rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the edge of the couch as the others all climbed various places to begin their tournament.

They forgot about Angelina rather quickly, caught up in the game and the merriment of the evening. All except Winona and Fred, who couldn't help but shoot the stairs worried, uncomfortable glances every other minute, both stuck with the horrible, sinking feeling that they'd each done something neither knew how to fix.

* * *

If Winona had thought that the events of the Yule Ball would change anything, she was mistaken. The next week passed without issue or drama of any sort, and before she knew it they were all back in their regular classes.

Things were much the same between them all, apart from Fred and Angelina, who – while still considered a couple – were tense and awkward whenever they were together. Nobody brought attention to it, too afraid to make the waves that would capsize their boat, but everybody could see it.

It was rather like a train wreck one couldn't look away from, Winona mused. She knew it was only going to end in disaster. And she didn't feel happy about it in the slightest.

She wasn't eagerly waiting for Fred and Angelina to be over so she could swoop in and take him for herself. In fact, even if her two friends hadn't still been together, she doubted anything would have changed between her and Fred. She supposed they were both too stubborn for their own good.

Or maybe they were just afraid.

Tension lingered between Winona and Fred, like something simmering under the surface of their skin whenever they were in the same room. It went utterly unspoken, and Winona did her best not to spend any more time than strictly necessary meeting Fred's cornflower stare. She was exceptionally careful, taking care not to brush his skin or laugh too hard at his jokes.

So things were business as usual; except really, really not.

The weeks passed, and soon it was the middle of January. It was a particularly frosty day when Winona, Lee and the twins all wandered down the hill towards Hagrid's hut, where their usual Care of Magical Creatures class was held.

Only it wasn't Hagrid who greeted them, but rather a vaguely familiar figure with gnarled joints and a prominent chin. "Professor Grubbly-Plank?" asked George, recognising the teacher as the previous Care of Magical Creatures professor, who had left two years previously to enjoy retirement.

"Where's Hagrid?" Winona asked immediately, feeling her skin prickle in that way it sometimes did when something was wrong, but she didn't quite know what.

"Indisposed," grunted Grubbly-Plank tersely.

"Indisposed how?" Winona pressed stubbornly.

Grubbly-Plank's eyes narrowed into slits and Winona tilted her chin up, meeting the older witch's stare without fear. Unfortunately, Grubbly-Plank didn't seem to feel like going toe to toe with a student today, so she turned away with a small grunt of disinterest.

"If you'll all follow me," she called to the class once she was sure they were all present and accounted for, "our lesson today will take place down at the paddocks."

They began walking, but Winona kept pace with the Lee and Fred, unable to let it go. "I feel like something bad's happened to Hagrid," she whispered to them, concern thick in her chest.

"Didn't you read the paper this morning?" asked Lee. He turned his body, walking backwards as he told them what had happened. "Skeeter outed Hagrid as being a half-giant," he revealed with a grimace. "I always just thought he had big bones – I never thought Dumbledore would hire an actual half-giant."

Winona was confused by the animosity in her friend's voice, until she remembered the year before in History of Magic when Binns had lectured about the Giant Wars for five weeks straight. It had been on the exam. She'd gotten a Poor.

"Lee," she began, sharp and reproachful, "you can't actually think Hagrid's dangerous just because he's half-giant. You've known the guy six years. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Lee frowned, and Winona grew angry with his attitude. "He's been lying about what he is for years, Winnie," he argued. "Innocent people don't hide that sort of thing."

Anger surged through her, taking offence to his callous words. "I lied about what I was, too," she reminded him tartly. Lee blinked in surprise, suddenly seeing her point. "If you want to hold that against him, you sure as hell had better hold it against me, as well."

He didn't seem to know how to reply, and for once Fred said nothing, knowing better than to get in the middle of that, lest Winona bite his head off, too. "All right," Lee reluctantly conceded, "you might have a point."

"You're damn right I do," she muttered.

A ripple of gasps filtered through their class, and Winona turned to see they were now standing at the edge of the school's paddocks. First she saw the Beauxbatons' horses, large and imposing as they chewed on the nearby tufts of green grass, but she realised quickly that they weren't the reason they were there.

In the far paddock was a perfect, pristine unicorn tied to a post, its pure white mane sparkling in the daylight. Winona's hands came up to cover her mouth in surprise, staring at the living, breathing picture of innocence stood before her.

"I know you covered unicorns in this class two years ago," Grubbly-Plank began, "but seeing as we now have a live specimen to observe, I thought you'd appreciate the look." As one, everybody inched forwards. "Girls only, I'm afraid," said their substitute professor. "Unicorns prefer a woman's touch."

The boys wilted, disappointed. "Why do girls get to have all the fun?" whined Fred, and Winona snickered as she followed the rest of the girls in the class inside the paddock.

The unicorn had its head bowed, its magical horn seeming to glow in the rare beams of Scottish sunlight. It looked up as they approached but otherwise didn't move, watching the girls approach with wide, patient eyes.

"One at a time," Grubbly-Plank told them sternly.

Anita Charleston, a rather stout Slytherin girl with green extensions in her hair, walked up to it first. The unicorn whinnied quietly but allowed Anita to place her hand on its pristine coat.

Winona hung back, keeping close to the fence and watching as one by one the girls in her class moved over to the unicorn, taking their turn patting it and giggling amongst one another at its beauty.

"Andrews," said Grubbly-Plank, nudging her forwards to the magical beast.

Winona cautiously held up a hand, slowly approaching the unicorn, hoping to prove she wasn't a threat. The unicorn whinnied again, but after a moment she dropped her snout into Winona's hand.

Her coat was smoother and softer than anything Winona had ever felt before, and the kind of warm that made her want to curl up and sleep.

"Hey girl," she whispered, running her hand along her strong jaw. The unicorn gave a soft snort, bumping her snout into Winona's face. Winona laughed lightly, taking in the strange way her magic seemed to tingle within her, like it sensed the pure magic of the unicorn and had begun to sing in reply. "You're gorgeous," she added quietly, resting her head against the place between the creature's eyes, closing her own and breathing in her sweet, beautiful scent.

She wanted to stay there forever, basking in the unicorn's unadulterated magic, but fate had other plans. There was a surge of power, like her magic had suddenly intertwined with the unicorn's, amplifying it by a thousand.

The vision hit her suddenly, sweeping her up under the current of time like a wave at the beach. She couldn't keep her head above water, couldn't fight the flow of possibilities. All she could do was ride the current, struggling to take in everything around her. And this time the water analogy was more accurate than ever.

She couldn't breathe at all; water and pressure pressing in on her from all sides. Despite this there was peace, the kind that settled in your bones, like a deep, dreamless sleep. Harry was there. She couldn't see him but she could sense him, smooth hands brushing her face. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't open her eyes, but at the same time she didn't want to. She was utterly at ease, but Harry wasn't, his concern mounting into panic.

She came out of the vision with a gasp, blinking at the sudden glare of sunshine in her eyes.

Sound came back last, and almost immediately she was surrounded by the gossipy, judgemental whispers of her peers. She closed her eyes briefly, praying to Merlin that she might open them and find herself waking up in her bed, this whole thing just a terrible dream.

But no dice.

She opened them to see her entire Care of Magical Creatures class standing a few metres away behind the safety of the fencing lining the paddock. Some were openly gawking, fascinated at seeing a real Seer in action. Others were laughing scornfully, snickering to one another as they shot her the kind of looks one might shoot something they saw behind the glass at a zoo.

"Win?" Fred's voice was beside her, and she turned her head, surprised to find him crouched in the mud beside her, expression tight with concern.

Above her there was a soft whinny, and Winona realised the unicorn was still there, standing strongly above her as if keeping guard against any that might wish to harm her.

"Win?" Fred asked again, gentle and patient, a far cry from the way he would act in any other situation.

"Yeah," she said quietly, instinctively holding her newest prediction to her chest, away from the prying eyes of her classmates.

Fred held out a hand that she didn't hesitate to take, letting him pull her up from the dirt below, dusting her robes off robotically. The rest of the class continued to openly stare at her – as if she were nothing more than an act in a travelling freak show.

She shifted closer to Fred, who was glowering at their classmates warningly. "How long?" she whispered, dreading the answer.

"Five minutes or so," he whispered back, turning away from the tittering class to fix her with his warm blue stare – like the clear sky on a summer day. "Are you okay?"

She remembered the uncanny feeling of being submerged deep underwater. Whatever it was, it was going to happen soon. And it was going to happen to _her_. Despite the knowledge sitting like rocks in her gut, she nodded her head with a small, thready smile. Fred didn't look convinced, but she hadn't really expected him to.

"Feeling better, Miss Andrews?" came Grubbly-Plank's rough voice. Winona looked over to see her standing by the head of the unicorn, feeding her a carrot with patience in her eyes.

"Sorry, Professor," she said awkwardly.

To her surprise, Grubbly-Plank waved away her apology. "Can anyone tell me one of the most common uses of powdered unicorn horn?" she asked the class at large. Winona wasn't sure how to react, and the class seemed to feel the same. Nobody so much as raised a hand. Grubbly-Plank seemed to almost smile. "It is most commonly used by Seers and would-be Seers to trigger their visions. It's often mixed into the melted wax of candles, then burned along with incense to open the Inner Eye. Today you got to witness firsthand the effect a unicorn's horn can have on a true Seer. You should feel lucky."

Nobody had anything to say about that, but some of the class looked a little embarrassed about their callous reaction to Winona's vision.

Winona herself just wanted to go back to bed and burrow under her covers as if the world and its problems no longer existed. It would be nice to pretend, if only for a little while, that reality was nothing more than a terrible dream.

Grubbly-Plank told them a bit more about unicorns (nothing they didn't already know, having already completed their unicorn unit several years previous) before giving the girls another chance to approach the unicorn.

Nobody wanted to move, casting Winona cautious side-eyes that made her feel in some way dirty – as if being a freak was contagious.

Fred and Lee said nothing the rest of the lesson, but Winona was grateful. She didn't feel like talking, the vision having taken a lot out of her. They did, however, stand around her as a sort of protective guard, as if to keep her safe from the scorn and ire of her peers.

Finally released from the lesson, they began the trek back up towards the castle. It was silently agreed to let the rest of the class head up first, then they trailed after them in an attempt to avoid any confrontation.

Unfortunately they weren't so lucky.

They'd just met up with Alicia and George in the entrance hall when they ran into a group of burly, sneering Slytherins. At the front of the pack were Malfoy and the younger Nott, and to Winona's horror, close behind him was Jeremiah, a distant but cruel look to his eyes. Winona's heart began to race.

"If it isn't Hogwarts' Truest Seer and her little servant boys," sneered Malfoy as if it were the cleverest line he'd ever thought of.

"Hey Andrews," piped a girl in Harry's year, Pansy something-or-other, "wanna tell me my future? It'll be easy to see, because it's brighter than yours."

Winona didn't so much as flinch. "Actually, you flunk your NEWTs and end up working as a rather unpopular prostitute down Knockturn Alley," she said without batting an eye.

Pansy gasped sharply, eyes alight with fury. Theodore Nott stepped in between them as if to protect Pansy from her – probably smart, because Winona wouldn't hesitate to curse her tits off if she pushed any harder.

"You harlot," Pansy snarled like it was meant to hurt. "Talk about prostituting – everyone knows you're screwing those twins of yours every chance you get. Tell me, which one's better in the sack?"

Fred twitched, wand held out in threat, but Lee caught his arm and wrenched it back down before he could do any damage. Winona took a step closer to Pansy, ignoring the way the youngest Nott shifted in front of her protectively.

"You don't know shit," she said, the words sharp and deliberate. "So how about you keep your ugly lips shut before someone curses them off?"

Somebody stepped into her field of vision. She looked up, expecting to see Theodore, only to freeze when she realised it was his brother – the one Slytherin who had the ability to actually hurt her.

"I don't think you should be cursing somebody else's lips when we all know what you do with your own, Andrews," said Jeremiah, his eyes as cold as ice. Her breath caught in her throat and words failed her. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you're a great shag, but I don't imagine it's anything to write home about, if you know what I mean."

The insult seemed stock-standard to most people listening, but those who knew the truth about the true nature of their relationship knew exactly how cutting the words were. Winona grit her teeth, hands balled into tight fists, nails biting into her palms.

This time neither hell nor high water could stop Fred from intervening. "Say that again, Nott," he snarled, ripping himself out of George's grip and lurching forwards until he stood nose to nose with Jeremiah. "See what happens."

"Why so snappy, Weasley?" he purred, inching closer and lowering his voice so only Fred and Winona could hear. "I'd think you'd be in a better mood, what with this little firecracker warming your bed every night." Fred's hands curled into fists, and Winona's heart was beating so hard she was sure everyone could hear it. "Tell me – with you, does she do that brilliant thing with her tongue-?"

Fred's fist cut clean across Jeremiah's jaw and the Slytherin stumbled backwards. His lip had split, a drop of blood dripping down towards his chin. "Fred!" Winona shouted, leaping forwards and gripping his arm, wrenching him back. Luckily George and Lee were there to help, dragging him away from the smug Slytherin before he could do any serious damage. "Fuck off, Nott," Winona snarled at the boy she'd once been sure she wanted to love. Now he was just repulsive. "Speak to any of us again, and I'll curse you until you scream."

Jeremiah smirked cockily. "If you wanna make me scream, all you've gotta do is ask, Lion."

Patience snapping in two, Winona whipped out her wand lightning fast, shooting a hex directly at Jeremiah's mouth. With the precision of a seamstress, little threads appeared from nowhere, criss-crossing over his lips and sealing them shut.

Alarmed, Jeremiah lifted his hands to his mouth, shouting as loud as he could from behind the hex. Winona didn't wait to give any of the Slytherins time to retaliate. She turned on her heel and pushed her friends away. The four of them made a beeline up the main staircase, glad the Slytherins were too busy trying to vanish her sewing work to bother rushing after them.

"Blimey," said Lee, uncomfortable as they made their way towards the common room. "What was all that about?"

Winona didn't know how she could reply without giving something of her secret away. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Helpless, she looked to Fred. "Forget it," said Fred shortly.

Lee frowned. "But-"

"Seriously, Lee," Fred snapped, and Lee was so stunned he fell silent the whole way back up to the Tower.

The common room was busy, what with the air outside so cold, everyone rugged up by the fire. Lee spied Alicia and Katie in the corner, and with a final wary look at Fred he made his way over to them, probably to relay everything that had just gone down.

"Fred-" George tried not say.

"Not now, George," snapped Fred in a rare move. It took a lot for them to lose patience with one another. Winona and George stared, watching as Fred stormed off towards the dorms without looking back at either of them. Left alone, they glanced at one another, unsure.

"I'll just-" George began, taking a step after his twin.

"No," Winona said before she'd realised she'd spoken. She cleared her throat, awkward. "I think I'd better do it."

Wary, George eyed her a long moment before finally nodding his head. "Be gentle?"

Winona smiled wanly. "Always."

The sixth-year's door was open a crack, and Winona knocked on it quietly. There was no answer from within, but she pushed the door open anyway.

"Fred?" she called into the empty room. A door creaked on the opposite end of the room and Fred appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, looking about as stricken as she felt. He was cradling his hand close to his chest, and she tutted quietly as she moved deeper into the room. "Sit down," she ordered him, and as if unable to do anything but obey, Fred took a seat on the edge of his bed.

She paused when she reached him, unsure. But he looked up at her, eyes so big and lost, and she quickly sat down next to him.

"Let me see," she said softly, reaching for his hand. He held out his arm and she took his hand in her own. His knuckles were swollen and bruised from the punch, and she gently ran her fingertips over the blooms of colour marring his pale skin like painted roses. "Here," she said, pulling free her wand and tapping it gently against the injury.

With a whispered spell, the bruising began to disappear, melting away like concrete chalk in the rain. They were still a little swollen and sore, but it was leagues better than before, and Fred could move his hand without wincing.

"Thanks," he said, voice rough, but Winona didn't look up from his hand. Tucking her wand safely away, she held his sore hand in both of hers, tracing her fingertips over the smooth expanse of his palm.

"You didn't need to hit him," she finally whispered, eyes on his hand instead of his eyes. It was easier that way.

Fred snorted. "After what he said? As if I wouldn't."

She smiled at his hand, tracing nonsensical patterns into his skin. "My hero," she said, but the words were without their usual teasing edge. She was just sad.

She heard Fred swallow, and slowly his fingers began to curl shut until her hand was trapped in his. The simple action stole the air from her lungs. His free hand came up to brush back a lock of her hair, then lingered against her cheek, and she shut her eyes tight.

"Fred," she breathed, pain blooming within her. Fred didn't answer her, he just held her tighter, his touch like lightning and soothing water all at once. He was everything. Something touched her forehead, and she realised it was his own.

She kept her eyes shut, their breath intermingling between them. He smelt so perfectly of fresh soil and gun powder, breath just the slightest bit minty, and she couldn't help but wet her lips, heart stammering in her chest.

And in that moment she could have kissed him. It would have been so easy – all she'd have had to do was lean in, and it would have come as naturally as the magic in their veins. But then Angelina's face flashed before her eyes and it was like a slap to the face.

Inhaling sharply, it took everything she had to wrench herself away from Fred, eyes still shut, still gripping his hand hard, struggling to let go.

"Ange," she said, opening her eyes to frown a the floorboards beneath them.

Fred exhaled sharply, still gripping her hand. "Yeah."

And that was that. Winona stood to her feet and left, but as she reached the door, she was helpless but to glance back. He was already staring after her, such _want_ in his eyes that it nearly stopped her heart in her chest. Smiling weakly, she left properly, making her way to her own dorm.

She was still so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even realise Angelina was there, sitting on her bed, painstakingly braiding her curly hair. "Oh, hey, Win," Angelina greeted her, and Winona looked up with a gasp of surprise.

"Ange," she said, cheeks flaming. Did she somehow know where she'd been? What exactly she'd been about to do?

"You all right?" Angelina asked, looking up from under her lashes as she struggled braiding the back section of her hair. "You look a little peaky."

Winona cleared her throat. "Fine," she said, feeling like utter shit as she did. "Need a shower before dinner."

And with that she escaped into the bathroom, hopping underneath the scalding spray of the shower and taking several deep breaths, doing her best to try and stop liking Fred. She went over and over it, trying to convince herself to stop. Trying to convince herself it was nothing. A passing attraction, barely even a crush. It was _Fred._

But then she remembered how he'd looked at her like – _God_, like she were his _everything_ – and it was impossible to deny the way her heart sang in reply. She liked him far, far more than she should. Far more than she'd ever liked anyone. And that was the most dangerous thing.

She stayed under the spray for a small eternity, but the water never got cold and Hogwarts, and soon enough she had to leave the shower and face herself in the mirror.

"You'll be fine," she whispered, staring into her own stormy grey eyes, trying to convince herself it was true. "Everything will work out."

And if she tried really, really hard, she could almost even believe it.

* * *

A few days later Winona had just sat down in the Great Hall for lunch when Harry dropped onto the bench beside her. "Hey Winnie?" he asked, because it was less of a greeting and more of a question.

"All right, Boy-Wonder?" she replied, busy searching the plates of sandwiches for one without any lettuce. She wasn't in a salad kind of mood.

"Can we talk?"

Winona heard the seriousness in his voice, and looking up, she found the emotion mirrored on his face. "I assume you mean talk without anyone eavesdropping," she said, and he nodded, a tiny bit sheepish.

Without further question she gathered a small pile of sandwiches onto a napkin, then stood to her feet. "All right. Let's go for a walk."

"OI! Where're you going?!" called George from a few seats down.

"I'm being summoned," she replied without missing a beat. Fred was sat beside Angelina, and Winona unintentionally met his eyes across the table. He looked curious, and she shrugged in reply, but before he could silently press for more, Angelina forcefully regained his attention.

Ducking her head, Winona quickly led Harry out of the Great Hall.

It was cold, still in the dead of winter, but Winona had a thick scarf wrapped around her neck and the sun was shining, so she led Harry out onto the grounds.

They wandered nowhere in particular, sharing her sandwiches as they talked. Harry told her all about seeing Barty Crouch on the Map, and getting stuck and nearly caught by Snape and Filch, then how Moody had found and saved him, borrowing the Map in the process.

"Don't let the twins know that part," Winona warned him. "The thought of the Map in any teacher's hands is enough to give them a stroke."

"But what d'you suppose Crouch was doing in Snape's stores? And why is he pretending to be so ill when he's clearly well enough to come out to Hogwarts in the middle of the night? And what did Moody mean, about Snape being on his second chance?" Harry asked, desperate for answers.

"I wish I knew," she said quietly as a pair of seventh-year Ravenclaws wandered past, shooting Harry looks of disdain. Winona threw a rude hand gesture in their direction and they scurried off with gossipy whispers. "I really have no idea. I've had no visions about any of this. I don't know anything."

Harry sighed, kicking at a small pile of snow with his shoe. "I just thought, I guess, 'cause you meet with Dumbledore so often…"

Winona chuckled, a tiny bit bitter. "Our conversations are more one-way," she told him. "I rarely get answers myself. It's…frustrating."

"Yeah," Harry sighed.

"If I have any visions, Harry, I swear I won't keep them from you," she promised him.

Harry hesitated. "Not even if Dumbledore tells you to?"

Winona scoffed. "Definitely not if Dumbledore tells me to. Anything you deserve to know, you'll know."

She could tell Harry was relieved. "I'm so used to people keeping things from me…" he whispered.

"Me too, kid," she smiled wryly.

That afternoon they had DADA, and when she walked into the classroom she saw the seat beside Fred open. Hesitating in the doorway, she left it too long, and Angelina waltzed in, taking the seat and glancing up at Winona as she did it.

Seeing Winona was looking back, Angelina dragged Fred's head towards hers, placing a possessive kiss to his unwitting lips. He let out a muffled sound of surprise that she swallowed, and Winona grit her teeth, tilted up her chin and walked to an empty desk a few places in front of them.

George took the seat on the other side when he arrived, and she squeezed his hand in hello, trying not to think too hard about Angelina. Winona hadn't known Angelina could act this way, and it was almost disturbing; her possessive, domineering attitude. But could she maybe see there was something between her and Fred? But then why not just give up and break things off – and, in that same vein, why hadn't _Fred_ broken things off yet?

She felt a flash of unexpected bitterness. How could any of this be real, or even worth anything to Fred, if he wouldn't end things with Angelina? She didn't want to make him choose…except that she actually kind of did. And she wanted him to choose _her._

Moody swept into the room, commanding silence with nothing but the uneven clanking of his footsteps.

The sound of it seemed to echo in Winona's head. Like it worked as some sort of hypnosis, her consciousness began to drain away. She fell into the current of time once more, but this time it was for a long while.

She came back to the present just as the bell rang, and she realised she'd missed the entire class. Moody was standing over her desk, and she hurried to pull her sketch close to her chest where he couldn't see it.

Most of the class was already making their way towards the door, but George hung back, standing beside her, watchful.

"Might I have a glance at what kept you so occupied this whole lesson, Miss Black?" Moody demanded.

She grit her teeth. "It's Andrews," she corrected him, not for the first time.

Moody just clicked his fingers impatiently, holding out his hand, expecting her to put the sketchbook into it. Winona bristled. She knew Dumbledore wouldn't want her giving over her sketch, not even to someone he trusted as much as Moody, but what could she do? He was glaring down at her, gouged face severe, eyes glinting with danger.

Swallowing thickly, she lifted the sketchbook to get a look at it first. It was someone she'd never seen before, a young, relatively handsome man with wild hair and narrow features. The man was simply staring off into the distance, a hint of his tongue peeking out from between his teeth. It seemed harmless enough, so reluctantly Winona put the book into his outstretched hand.

Moody's eyes went wide upon seeing the sketch, and with his free hand he hurried to dig out his ever-present flask and take a large swig of the liquid inside. Winona watched as both his normal eye and his magical one scanned the sketch, and she wondered whether she were imagining the alarm she saw on his horrific face.

"Who might this be, Miss Black?" he finally wondered in a rasping voice.

Gritting her teeth at the name, Winona lifted her shoulders. "I don't know, sir."

Moody didn't look convinced. "You've no idea?"

"None."

"Are you sure about that?" he thundered, like he didn't believe her. He turned the full weight of his stare onto her, gnarled lips twisted into something vaguely resembling a snarl, and Winona flinched back under the force of it.

"She said she doesn't know," said George, stepping closer to her and pressing a hand to her shoulder. "Sir," he added begrudgingly when Moody's laser-like eyes darted to him.

What was left of Moody's nose flared, but with a small huff of air he thrust the sketchbook back into Winona's hands. "Dismissed," he said tersely. Winona didn't need to be told twice. She gathered her bag and left with George.

Angelina and Fred were hovering in the doorway, concern shared on both their faces. For one shining moment, all was normal again. Winona shook her head, telling them she was fine, and to leave it. They all left the Defence classroom, and Winona breathed a sigh of relief once she felt the sun shining through the windows on their way to the common room.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" asked Fred, sounding about as alarmed as she felt.

"The guy's just creepy," said Winona shortly.

"Mental, more like it," muttered George.

Winona managed half a laugh, but then the silence in the hall became crushing as reality reasserted itself around them. Things weren't as they always were, things were so, so different now, and they couldn't pretend they weren't. Everything unspoken now inched over them like an oppressive weight, and Winona thought she might suffocate from the force of it.

"I'd better get this sketch to Dumbledore," she said before the awkwardness could swallow her whole. She abruptly changed directions, heading towards the Headmaster's office. "I'll see you later."

"I'll come with you," said George, slapping Fred on the shoulder in farewell.

He and Winona turned a corner, and this time Winona didn't look back. They walked a few moments in silence, making their way up a few floors to their destination.

"Okay, what in Merlin's name is _actually_ going on?" George finally demanded, the words bursting out of him like they had a mind of their own.

"You said it yourself, Moody's mental-"

"I mean with you, Fred and Ange," George said firmly, and Winona fell silent. "I thought things were going to get _better_, not worse," he complained.

"I don't know what to tell you, George," she replied, just a little bit cold. "He's still with Ange. What do you expect me to do?"

"Ask him to leave her!" he cried, like it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She scowled at her feet. "Why should I have to? Why can't he leave her on his own?"

George fell silent, but not from a lack of knowing what to say. Instead, when she glanced at him, he just looked disappointed.

"What?" she demanded, half dreading his response.

"Win, how is he s'posed to know you _want_ him to leave Ange, if you don't _tell_ him?" he asked her slowly, like he were talking to a child.

"He shouldn't be with her at all if he doesn't want to be," Winona argued.

"You're right," George agreed without hesitation. "Of course you are. But he's scared. He doesn't want to lose you both. So he's clinging on the only way he knows how."

Winona scowled some more. "It's wrong."

"Yeah," George agreed. "But don't tell me you wouldn't do the same."

Winona wasn't sure she would, but she wasn't certain she wouldn't, either. She tried to put herself in Fred's shoes. His options were leaving Angelina for a girl he wasn't even sure wanted him, and risk screwing up two relationships, or stay with Angelina – the safe option – and try to salvage what was left to be salvaged between them.

But the thing is, Angelina deserved better than that, and they all knew it.

Confused, Winona let out a heavy sigh. "I dunno what to do, Georgie," she said, sounding every bit like a terrified little girl.

George smiled, sympathetic and understanding. "You'll figure it out, Win," he assured her. "It's you and Fred – you're endgame."

She laughed, a tiny bit hysterical. They reached the Headmaster's office and Winona said the password to let her up. The gargoyle leapt aside and she turned to George, bringing him into a quick embrace. "See you up in the common room," she told him, pulling away and squeezing his arm in farewell.

"See you," he said with a smile, watched as she disappeared up the staircase.

Upon seeing her prediction, Dumbledore's brow furrowed, but beyond that he had no reaction.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked her severely.

"No idea," she told him.

"And the sense you get from it?"

She hesitated, peering down at the image from her seat on the opposite side of his desk, a teacup held in a slightly trembling hand. "Darkness. Evil. Desperation," she said. "Whoever this man might be, he isn't good."

Dumbledore hummed like he were mildly intrigued, but otherwise didn't respond. Winona thought he knew exactly who this man was, but perhaps not quite how he fit into things – yet. She watched as he made a copy of the sketch, and then she made her escape, heading for her dorm and the shower waiting for her.

Harry came to her a few days later in the common room before breakfast, looking a little bit sheepish. She offered to walk with him down to the Great Hall, giving him an opportunity to speak to her alone.

"So, when I told you all about Crouch and Snape and Moody, I forgot to mention something kind of important," he confessed as they leisurely made their way down the stairs.

"Spill," she said lightly.

"I figured out the egg."

Winona blinked. In amongst all the drama in her personal life, she'd almost completely forgotten there was even a tournament going on. And she felt guilt for it, wincing apologetically even though Harry didn't notice. "That's great," she told him supportively. "What is it?"

He relayed the hint he'd gotten from the egg, then what he knew it to mean. Winona's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Survive underwater for an _hour_?" she asked, dismayed.

"Do you know of anything that can do it?" he asked hopefully. "A spell, or charm, or potion?"

Winona winced again. "Nothing I know of." She suddenly wished she'd paid more attention in her lessons. Maybe at some point a way to breathe underwater had been mentioned. She'd probably been too distracted sketching in the margins of her work, or by the twins' playful notes, to listen at the time. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've no idea."

Harry deflated, hope sucked out like air from a balloon. "It was a long shot," he murmured.

"Have you checked the library?"

"For days now," he nodded. "We can't find _anything. _Not even Hermione, and she knows that place like the back of her hand."

"The restricted section?"

"Yeah. Got permission from McGonagall. Nothing."

"Dammit," she cursed. They'd reached the Great Hall, the room within a cavern of mindless chatter. Winona turned to Harry. "Let me help you look. I don't believe there isn't anything in the whole library that can't help."

"You don't have to-"

"Really, Harry," she insisted. "The more eyes the better, right?"

That was how she found herself in the library with he, Hermione and Ron a week later, the very night before the task. They seemed to have looked through every single book in the library, but still, nothing.

Ron had had the rather last-ditch idea of Winona attempting to bring forth a vision that would magically hold all the answers they desired. So that was how she wound up cross-legged on the floor, doing her best to meditate and induce an impossible vision.

"Still nothing?" Ron asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"If you keep talking, it's never going to happen," she snapped without opening her eyes. Ron mumbled something unsavoury that she ignored, rolling her shoulders to try and rid them of tension, struggling to bring on a vision.

Five minutes later she needed a break, standing to her feet and stretching out her spine until it popped. "What, you're giving up?" Ron asked, disappointed.

"I'm a Seer, Ron," she reminded him. "That means I see the _future_. Not the answers to inconvenient riddles. It's useless."

Harry let out a groan, dropping his face into his book in defeat. Now Winona felt guilty for snapping.

"I'm sure there's _something_ in a book, Harry," she said as optimistically as she could. "There's got to be."

"What if it just can't be done?" Ron asked, rocking backwards on the back two legs of his chair, the wood creaking under the assault. "There's nothing. _Nothing._ Closest was that thing to dry up puddles and ponds, that Drought Charm, but that was nowhere near powerful enough to drain the lake."

"There must be something," Hermione muttered. "They'd never have set a task that was undoable."

"I dunno," argued Winona. "It sounds to me just like the kind of sadistic bullshit the Ministry would pull."

"Language, Winnie," tutted Hermione without taking her eyes off the page she was scanning.

"Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they've nicked, and see if they chuck it out," said Ron decisively. "Best you can do, mate."

"There's a way of doing it!" Hermione insisted. "There just has to be!"

"I know what I should have done," bemoaned Harry. "I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius."

"Yeah, you could've turned into a goldfish any time you wanted!" said Ron.

"Or a frog," yawned Harry.

Hermione tutted, so tired she was taking his words literally, beginning to tell them exactly why that wasn't going to work.

"Hermione, I was joking," said Harry, weary and exasperated. "I know I haven't got a chance of turning into a frog by tomorrow morning…"

"Oh this is no use," Hermione ground out, snapping shut the book she was working at. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," came a familiar voice. Winona sat up ramrod straight at the sound of it. Fred stepped around the shelves first, George not far behind. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?" he asked, crossing his arms as he smirked at them all widely.

"What're you two doing here?" Ron asked, less than thrilled by their appearance.

"I didn't forget plans, did I?" Winona wondered, brow furrowed as she struggled to think about what it might have been. She'd been so focused on helping Harry this last week – and perhaps avoiding facing the reality of her pathetic excuse for a love life – that everything else had virtually faded into background noise.

"Nah, not this time," George said lightly. "But we were looking for you. McGonagall wants you. And you, Hermione."

Winona blinked in surprise. "Me and Hermione?" she asked, thinking it to be an odd combination.

"Why?" asked Hermione in confusion, seeming as stunned as Winona.

"Dunno," Fred shrugged, and it didn't escape Winona's notice that he'd yet to meet her eyes, "she was looking a bit grim, though."

"We're supposed to take you down to her office," George added.

Harry looked stricken, probably worried they were going to get into trouble for helping him, but there was nothing they could do about that now. "We'll meet you both back in the common room," Hermione told he and Ron. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," said Harry uneasily.

"Chin up, Boy-Wonder," Winona said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Everything will work out."

Harry hardly looked convinced, but he attempted a smile to show he appreciated the effort.

"We'll be back," Hermione promised him. "Keep working."

With one last look at a helpless Harry, Winona followed Fred and George out of the library and into the corridor. The four of them walked in silence for a few moments, before it was broken by George.

"What're you looking for in the library?" he asked Hermione conversationally.

"Something for the task tomorrow," Hermione told him evasively.

"Well, dunno why you've roped Winnie into it," he said, casting a teasing glance at Winona. "She couldn't even find the contents page if you asked her to." Winona scoffed but otherwise didn't reply. George's gaze darted between her and his silent brother, and she watched as an idea lit in his eyes. "Say Hermione, I was wondering if you had any Potion book recommendations."

"Potion book recommendations?" Hermione echoed dubiously. It was clearly the last thing she'd expected him to ask.

"I'm really interested in the theory behind healing potions, so I want to read up on them some more," he told her, and Winona smirked at Hermione's surprise. "I figured you'd be the person to ask."

"Oh," said Hermione, a tiny bit flustered. "Well, off the top of my head, I can think of a few you might enjoy…" she began to list books, and George wasn't at all subtle as he sped up, forcing a babbling Hermione to keep up with him and succeeding in putting enough space between them that Winona and Fred had the illusion of privacy to talk.

Winona didn't know what she could say. What was there to say? _Please break up with one of my best friends, because I want you so bad it hurts and watching you with her is like a knife to the heart?_

"Are you worried about the task tomorrow?" Fred spoke up first, taking Winona by surprise. She glanced over at him, taking in his hunched shoulders and the way he had his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, like he wasn't sure what to do with them otherwise.

"Not really," she told him with a shrug. "Harry can handle it."

He perked up at that. "You know what it is?"

She crossed her arms over her chest to try to keep from fidgeting. "I may or may not have some idea."

She felt Fred sigh beside her, but didn't look up from her feet. "You haven't been around the last few weeks," he said, voice mild and small. It was so unlike him, she felt bad for being the cause of it.

"Harry needed me," she told him, and while it wasn't a lie, it also wasn't the entire truth.

Fred paused. "That's it?"

Winona looked up, a sudden fire in her eyes. "What do you want me to say, Fred?" He didn't reply, a frown marring his face, and Winona's heart burned hot. "Clearly you want me to say something, so what is it? What do you need to hear?"

When he looked back at her, there was a matching flame in his blue eyes, making them glow like molten crystal. "_Anything_, Win, so long as it's the truth."

"You think I'd lie?" she asked, affronted.

Fred laughed, but there was none of his usual joy in the sound. Instead this one was bitter, layered with exhaustion and frustration. "That's what you _do_," he said it like it were a simple fact of life, and it cut her deeper than he'd probably expected it to. She flinched back like the words were a blow, and she curled in on herself, teeth grit against unwelcome emotion. "Win…" he trailed off, wanting to fix it but not knowing how. He couldn't just take the words back. They were out there now. They were real.

"You think it's easy, Fred?" she said without looking up at him. "Seeing you with Ange? This whole thing, it's killing me."

"Then why don't you do something about it?"

She stopped walking, whirling around on him, skin buzzing with anger. "Why don't _you_ do something about it?" she hissed. This wasn't all on her. This was as much his doing as it was hers. It took two, didn't it?

Glaring across the corridor at Fred, she found a matching anger in his eyes. Electricity crackled between them like static on a windy day, and Winona could barely breathe, caught up in him. They stared, then stared some more. Winona thought idly that there wasn't anything that could break them apart in that moment, caught in one another's orbit like planets.

But, as it turned out, there was something that could break them apart, after all.

"Miss Andrews, Mr Weasley," came a stern, Scottish voice, and the pair were so surprised by its appearance that they whipped around, cheeks hot with embarrassment. McGonagall was stood in the doorway to her office, black eyes narrowed at them, awfully unimpressed. "As important as I'm sure this discussion is, can it wait until a later date? I have some business to conduct with Miss Andrews," she said smoothly, thin lips pursed, "if it isn't too much trouble."

"Not at all, professor," Winona hurried to say. She cast Fred a final look – fire in his eyes still burning, hot and alive and making her heart skip a beat – then turned and escaped into McGonagall's office.

Hermione was already inside, along with a young girl from Beauxbatons and a Ravenclaw girl in Harry's year that Winona identified as Cho Chang.

"Off to bed, you two," said McGonagall to the twins, who remained hovering outside the office. "Miss Andrews will be along soon enough."

Winona didn't turn back to look, but she knew the twins obeyed, slinking off reluctantly back to the common room. Winona took up a spot on Hermione's right, at the end of the line of girls. She wasn't quite sure what all four of them had in common, but it began to make sense rather quickly as from the back door a trio of wizards wandered in.

First was Dumbledore, followed closely by Ludo Bagman and Igor Karkaroff. Winona belatedly realised that Madame Maxime was already in the room, sat in the corner, an elegant staff laid at her side.

"Good evening," Bagman greeted them, skin rosy as a ripe apple, a shifty look in his blue eyes. "I'm sure you're wondering what you four are doing here, tonight."

"It has something to do with the tournament, doesn't it?" Hermione spoke up, and Winona raised her eyebrows in surprise at the sheer fact she hadn't raised her hand before speaking. Bagman smiled, and Winona supposed he might have once been charming, in his youth. Now he just looked seedy. "We're what the champions have to recover from the lake."

Bagman blinked in surprise, and Winona saw a small smirk of McGonagall's lips that not even she could hide. "My, aren't you a clever one?" Bagman said keenly.

Dumbledore stepped forwards, and Winona was relieved when he took over the explanation. "You've each been identified as the person our champions will miss most," he told them calmly. "The young Miss Delacour for Fleur Delacour, Miss Chang for Cedric Diggory, Miss Granger for Viktor Krum, and Miss Andrews for Harry Potter."

Winona blinked in surprise. She'd never have expected herself to be chosen as the person Harry would miss most of all. It made her heart swell with emotion for her cousin, and she looked away as she reined in her reaction.

"You will each be carefully bewitched, put in a sort of stasis, under which you will be able to survive beneath the surface of the water for the duration of the task," Dumbledore told them steadily. "I assure you that it is perfectly safe, and no harm will come to any of you as a result of this enchantment."

The young girl from Beauxbatons looked especially nervous, as did Cho, but Winona and Hermione were unperturbed by the news. Winona remembered the vision she'd had some weeks before, the subsequent sketch being an image of the bottom of the lake floor. At the time she'd been confused, but now she understood with perfect clarity.

"I want to make something perfectly clear," Dumbledore continued on. "If any of you wish not to undergo this bewitchment, you're welcome to say so now and somebody else will be procured for the task."

Bagman looked vaguely like he'd swallowed a lemon, eyes narrowed at all four of them, daring them to speak up. Clearly he didn't want any of them screwing with his careful planning, and although Winona crinkled her nose at him in distaste, she didn't say anything. She trusted Dumbledore to do this, and she trusted Harry to get them all to safety. It was a no-brainer.

After a few moments of uneasy silence, Dumbledore smiled. "Very well," he said bracingly, clapping his hands together once. "I will be putting you under one at a time, beginning with Miss Delacour. If you'll follow me, dear?"

McGonagall flicked her wand at the nearest row of desks, and they immediately transfigured into a small cot. Dumbledore and Maxime began to lay the girl down, murmuring to her softly, and Winona turned to Hermione while they waited. The frizzy-haired fourth year looked stricken.

"I was hoping to have more time to help Harry," she whispered to Winona, hands twisting together anxiously. "What if he can't find anything in time?"

"Dumbledore would never let anything happen to us," Winona reassured her, even though there was a tiny hint of doubt in her chest. She knew Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to _her,_ anyway, but that was more to do with her usefulness to him than it was with his sense of honour.

"It couldn't have been anyone else, you know?" Hermione said suddenly, and Winona realised she'd been staring off into the corner of the room, lost in thought.

"Hm?" she hummed, confused.

"The person Harry would miss most," Hermione told her sweetly. "He loves Ron and I – we're his best friends – but we're not _family_ in the same way the two of you are. There's nobody he'd miss more than you."

Winona smiled, warm again but this time not from anger or tension or frustration. This time she was warm with love for her cousin, and she realised that she was the same. She'd be lost without the twins, her best friends in the world, but it was Harry leaving that would destroy her the most.

The youngest Delacour was suddenly floating, and they watched as Maxime levitated her gently from the room. "Miss Chang," said Dumbledore with a gesture at the transfigured cot. "If you would?"

Cho warily laid down, listening to what the teachers above her were saying, nodding her head slowly.

"Oh, Harry and Ron are going to be worried sick," Hermione murmured, still twisting her fingers together, anxiety coming off her like a stench.

"Forget Harry and Ron," Winona snorted. "The twins are going to tear this place apart looking for me."

Hermione's brow pinched. "Even now, with everything between you and…?" she trailed off awkwardly, but it didn't need saying.

Winona felt a sharp lurch in her stomach at the innocent question. Apparently their melodrama hadn't been particularly subtle. "Doesn't matter what happens between us, we'll always care," she said, and knew in her heart it was true. "We'll always be best friends."

Hermione smiled sadly. "I wish I could be so sure."

"It's the same with Harry and Ron," she assured her. "They'd never let anything get in the way of your friendship." Hermione wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much Winona could do about that now.

"Miss Granger?" said the Headmaster, and they turned to see McGonagall levitating a slumbering Cho from the room, leaving the cot open for Hermione.

Winona reach out, gripping the younger girl's hand tight. "See you on the other side," she whispered confidently. Hermione attempted a smile and squeezed back once. Laid down on the cot, she listened as Dumbledore spoke in tones too low for Winona to hear.

McGonagall reappeared, coming to a stop beside Winona, a crease in her brow as she watched Dumbledore slowly begin to bewitch Hermione. "I'm sorry for this, Andrews," McGonagall said suddenly, taking Winona by surprise.

"It isn't your fault, Professor," Winona replied with a blink. "Besides, nobody's going to get hurt."

"I was against this tournament from the start," McGonagall confessed, but Winona got the sense she was saying it to herself more than to her. "Putting students in such blatant danger, it just isn't right."

"We'll be okay, Professor," she said, but she couldn't help but feel like the words were without spine. They were words meant for comfort, not reality. She wasn't so sure it was true, either. This tournament had already taken so much, and it wasn't even halfway done. What more would be taken from them by the time this whole thing was over and done with?

McGonagall looked at her with a tight-lipped smile that was hardly convincing. Winona gave her one in kind.

"Miss Andrews?" came Dumbledore's rumbling voice, and Winona turned to see the cot empty, Bagman levitating Hermione away. "Are you ready?" he asked gently. Winona could only nod her head once.

Laying down on the cot, she stared up at the arched ceiling of the room, breathing in slowly through her nose and out through her mouth, relishing in the ability to breathe before it would be taken from her for the night.

"How do you feel?" Dumbledore asked, leaning over her face and blocking out her view of the detailed ceiling above.

"Fine, sir," she told him quietly.

Dumbledore didn't look convinced, but he hardly ever did. "It's going to feel just like going to sleep. You may feel a bit cold, but other than that you'll have no awareness of what's happening to your body," he told her, and she couldn't help but feel anything but comforted.

"Okay."

"No harm will come to you, Winona," Dumbledore said softly, as if she might have been uncertain.

She nodded her head once. "I know, sir."

With a tight-lipped smile, Dumbledore raised his wand. "We'll see you soon," he said in parting, then a veil of cold fell over Winona's body, and she knew no more.

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**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed; today's spotlight review is – _Piennn_: thanks so so much for your review. It made me ridiculously happy, and your kind words about my writing style and character development made my day. I hope you enjoyed this one!**

**It's my birthday tomorrow, so I look forwards to waking up in the morning to read all your wonderful reviews! And also, a tiny hint about the next chapter: it's in Fred's POV, and it's going to make you all very happy indeed.**


	40. Do something about it

**A/N: Thanks everybody for the birthday wishes. I had a great day, and hearing from you all made it even greater. This one's a little shorter than usual, but gives us all a glimpse into Fred's head. I really hope you enjoy!**

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The grandfather clock in the corner was ticking, and it seemed to be all Fred could hear. The ticking of the clock, counting the seconds going by that Winona still hadn't returned to the common room.

George sat up from where he'd been trying to doze on the couch. "She's probably not coming back, Fred," he said around a yawn. "She probably got busy with something else, or maybe she's had a vision and had to take it to Dumbledore. Whatever it is, we'll see her in the morning."

"I'm gonna wait awhile longer," said Fred stubbornly. His twin sighed, sitting up properly and rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Fred," he began, and Fred knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next, "it can't keep going on like this."

"Like what?" Fred asked innocently. George narrowed his eyes and Fred felt chastised without words. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Just do _something_," George said, beyond exasperated. "The two of you are going to drive me insane. Every time you're even in the same room, it's like you could cut the tension with a knife."

Fred said nothing, staring across at the portrait hole. It was creeping ever closer to two in the morning, and still Winona hadn't reappeared.

George huffed, the sound echoing with annoyance. "I'm going to bed," he said, standing to his feet. "Don't stay down here all night – you've gotta at least get _some_ sleep before the task tomorrow."

"Yeah," said Fred distantly. "I will."

George didn't believe him, but all he could do was roll his eyes. He clapped Fred on the shoulder before leaving with a sigh, making his way up to the dorm. Then he was gone and Fred was alone in the common room, staring at a door he knew in his gut wouldn't be opening any time soon.

He was jolted from his light doze when the portrait hole opened. He sat up, spine straight as a rod, waiting for Winona to appear, but instead it was just Harry and Ron making their way inside. "Hey," he said, and the pair came to a stop, seeming surprised to find him there. "Winnie isn't with you?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "She and Hermione never came back from McGonagall's office," Ron said with a shrug. "Dunno what's taking them so long…"

Harry was staring right at him, a frown on his face. "You're waiting down here for Winnie?" he asked curiously.

"I just wanna make sure she gets back okay," Fred shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, like his insides weren't twisted up in knots of anxious worry. "I've got some reading I wanted to get done, anyway," he added, gesturing to the book balanced on the armrest of his chair. Neither of them were convinced, but he didn't particularly care what they thought.

"Whatever," said Ron with a yawn. "C'mon Harry, let's get some sleep and try again in the morning."

"Try again?" Fred asked, unable to stem his curiosity. "You haven't figured out the task yet?"

Ron's face hardened into a defensive sort of glare. "Of course he has," he lied, then gripped Harry's shoulder and began to push him towards the stairs. "We'll leave you alone to pine for Winnie," he added scathingly.

Fred didn't bother responding to that, just made a crude hand gesture in his brother's direction and mentally added him to the top of their 'to-prank' list.

Left alone in the common room once more, Fred sunk back into the cushions of the armchair and returned his eyes to the portrait hole. There was another possibility that tickled at the back of his brain, one he didn't like at all.

Winona could have gone back to Nott.

He didn't think she would, but the fire in her eyes as they'd last parted made him wonder. She was a human storm – awesome and unpredictable – and while he didn't want to believe that she could be cruel enough to go back to Nott solely to teach him a lesson, he had to admit it was a possibility.

He must have fallen asleep again, fitful and weak, because the next time he was woken up it was by a hand shaking his shoulder and the drab light of the Scottish day streaming in through the window. "Fred," said a familiar voice.

"Win," he said without stopping to think, blinking up at them blearily only to realise with a sinking swoop of his gut that it wasn't Winona at all, but rather Angelina. She was stood over him with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him unhappily, and Fred winced. "Ange," he said, struggling to salvage the conversation. "Did I fall asleep reading again?"

Angelina wasn't having any of it. "You waited down here all night for Winnie?" she asked, voice edged with steel.

"No," he lied, but she didn't believe it for a moment. Geez, he was really off his game.

"Where is she, anyway?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder like Winona might have been crouching behind the armchair he slept in.

Fred's insides turned to stone. "She's not upstairs?"

Angelina's eyes were hard. "She never came up," she told him shortly. "Her bed wasn't even slept in last night." His girlfriend saw the panic in his eyes, and she softened a little. "I'd thought she might have been with you," she confessed.

"I've no idea where she is," he said honestly.

"Well, you know Winnie. She probably just got caught up sketching and forgot time existed again," she murmured, but it was hardly said with fondness, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Fred's brow furrowed and he stood to his feet, casting the common room a narrow-eyed stare. It was entirely possible Winona had just fallen asleep in the Astronomy Tower or gotten swept up in talks with Dumbledore over the fate of wizarding kind again, but something deep within was telling him otherwise, telling him something was _wrong._

Still, he searched the room with his eyes, trying to imagine her waltzing through the portrait hole, hands covered in paint, hair speared by a pencil atop her head.

"You're never going to love me like you love her, are you?" Angelina asked so suddenly, so bluntly, that Fred nearly choked on his own tongue. He whirled around to look at her, finding her torn between anger and pain.

He didn't know what to say. How was someone supposed to _respond_ to something like that? Especially when the true answer wasn't what he knew she wanted to hear.

Tears appeared in Angelina's eyes and horror swooped in his gut. He couldn't stand it when girls cried – and it was a million times worse now, when it was because of _him._

"I just liked you so much, Fred," Angelina began. Fred winced, watching as she bared her heart to him. Like floodgates opening, words came pouring from her mouth, rushed and honest. "I liked you so much I was willing to ignore the way you stared at her, and the way you smiled at her, the way you wouldn't ever _shut up_ about her."

"Ange-" he tried to say.

"I'm not _finished_," she snapped, and like an obedient child, Fred fell silent. "I thought maybe, over time, I could get you to love me instead. And I guess it's my fault, for thinking I could do it. For putting myself on the line for so long. I was just so _blinded_ by you. It was stupid, and I take responsibility for my part. But you're not without blame, Fred."

Fred swallowed thickly, and despite being taller than her, he felt like he were looking up into the face of a giant as she stared him down. She was a force of nature, he realised. He shouldn't have treated her like she wasn't. Like she was something he could keep in his back pocket, a backup if things didn't work out the way he desperately wanted them to.

"You shouldn't have strung me along for so long," Angelina said, and he knew she was right. Knew he'd been a right prick. And he wished there was some way he could take it all back. "You shouldn't have kissed me and thought of her. You shouldn't have spent the night with me, then gone to sleep to dream of her. It was cruel, and it was selfish."

For a moment, Fred couldn't find his voice. "Yeah," he finally rasped. Some part of him hoped she might slap him – he certainly deserved it – but Angelina wasn't the firestorm Winona was. She wasn't the kind to make him hurt with her fists. She was the kind to make him hurt with her words. And she was terribly good at it. "I'm sorry," he said, meaning it deep in his core.

"Yeah," Angelina whispered. "Me too."

They stood in silence a minute, and Fred wanted to pull out his wand and send a spell at the ticking clock in the corner, reminding him that Winona was still missing, and that now he had neither of them. In his selfishness, had he lost them both?

"We're still friends," said Angelina, the words taking him by surprise. "But I'm going to need some time."

"Of course," he hurried to say, meeting her eyes, so round and sincere, sparkling with pain. Pain _he_ had caused. "Ange, if I could change it…" he trailed off, unable to finish.

Would he change it? If he had the ability to dig deep within himself and change the way he felt at a fundamental level, would he take the chance to change the way he felt about Winona?

Angelina smiled sadly, as if she could hear the storm of thoughts roaring through his head like a deadly typhoon, demolishing everything in its path. "You're in love with her, Fred," she said softly, sadly. "Do something about it."

She was the third person to say as much to him since the night before, and the words resonated deep within him, echoing like lyrics shouted by a roaring crowd. "I'm sorry, Ange," he said again, because it was all he had left to say. It was all there was. Just apologies and regret.

Tears were gathering in her eyes now, glittering at the corners, threatening to spill down her face. Fred felt like utter shite, staring at her, wishing there were some magical way to fix everything he'd broken. But even he knew magic had its limits.

"Bye, Fred," she said, choked up. It felt like a definitive ending. Like she were severing some tie that had grown, cutting it like a ribbon. Freeing them both.

Angelina turned and made her way back up the stairs, disappearing into her dorm, and Fred took a seat back on the couch and dropped his head into his hands.

He'd royally fucked up, he knew that. He'd made a mess of some of the most important relationships in his life. But most prominently, he was disgusted at himself for the feeling of relief that followed. He was nothing but relieved now that he and Angelina were over, and that was maybe the worst part of all.

George came down from the dorms to find his brother with his head still in his hands. "Please tell me you at least got some sleep," he said reproachfully.

"Winnie never came back last night," was all Fred said in response.

"She probably just fell asleep sketching again," George shrugged. "You know how she gets."

Fred didn't reply, staring hard at the portrait hole like if he concentrated hard enough he might be able to make it spit Winona out into his arms.

"Come on, she's probably down at breakfast already," George said.

Fred knew he had a point, and with a sigh he stood to his feet. "Give me five minutes?"

George nodded and took a seat on the couch while Fred raced up to the dorm. He took a lightning shower and changed into jeans and an old jumper, then wound a scarf around his throat and stuffed his feet into shoes. Meeting George back in the common room, together they made their way down to breakfast.

Harry and Ron were sat at the very end of the Gryffindor table, and by silent agreement the twins fell down onto the seats opposite them.

Fred had just opened his mouth to ask them if they'd seen Winona when Ron spoke over him. "Have either of you seen Hermione?"

The twins glanced at one another. "No," George answered him. "But Winona never came back from McGonagall last night, either."

"What could McGonagall have needed from them that would take the whole night?" asked Ron, face scrunched in confusion.

Before either could answer, Dumbledore appeared up at the front of the room and the students filling the hall fell obediently silent. "If you'll all make your way down to the lake, the second task will begin in thirty minutes," he said to the waiting school. Once he'd turned away the students erupted into chatter.

Fred turned to Harry. "Did you end up figuring out the egg?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. "Uhh," said Harry weakly.

Then Lee was suddenly gripping the twins' shoulders, tugging them impatiently towards the doors. "Come on," he whined, dragging them forcefully, Alicia and Katie beside him. "We have to go now if we want to get good seats."

They relented and climbed to their feet. "Best of luck, Harry," Fred told him. "And if you see Win, can you tell her I'm looking for her?"

Harry hurried to nod. "Same with Hermione."

They split ways and Fred followed his friends out of the castle. The moment they were away from the bulk of the students, they all converged on him, questions alight in their eyes. Alicia reached out to slap him hard across the back of the head. "What the hell is your problem?" she demanded hotly.

Fred realised now the girls were all glaring at him, while Lee and George just looked awkward. "Problem?" he parroted like an idiot.

"Ange was a mess this morning," Katie explained, a little less hotheaded than Alicia. "She wouldn't tell us what happened, but obviously you did something."

Fred was a little surprised Angelina hadn't told them what happened, but he supposed he was relieved she hadn't gone yabbering about how he'd broken her heart. If she really wanted to, she could probably turn all his friends against him over this. He was suddenly really glad Angelina wasn't the vindictive type. "Where is she?" he asked, scanning the nearby crowd.

"She didn't want to come to the task," said Alicia primly. "She's taking a self-care day."

"A what?"

"What. Did. You. Do?" Alicia seethed, stabbing her finger into his chest.

"We broke up," he explained quickly, feeling like if he didn't she might slap him again. "She broke up with me, I mean."

Alicia crossed her arms over her chest and looked to Katie, the pair communicating silently in the way usually reserved for he and George. "Why?" Katie was the one to ask, suspicious.

Uncomfortable, Fred looked away. "That's not really-"

"Oh, come off it," said Lee, pushing them to get them moving again, herding them all like sheep in the direction of the lake. "It's obviously because of Winnie."

Alicia gasped. "Is _that_ where she was last night?"

"No!" cried Fred, beginning to feel rather ganged-up on. "I don't know where Winnie was last night. I waited up for her but she never came back to the common room."

"So this _is_ about Winnie," Alicia hissed, eyes intense. He had a feeling there was a right and a wrong answer to this situation. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out which was which.

"Leave it, Leesh," said George, coming to his brother's defence. Fred could have melted into the grass with relief.

"Excuse me for defending my friend," Alicia sneered.

"Fred's your friend, too," said Lee rationally. "I think the best thing for us all to do is not to take sides."

"Lee," said Fred thinly, "there _are_ no sides. We're all still friends, okay? This isn't going to tear us apart."

The boys looked satisfied while the girls appeared unconvinced. Frustrated, Fred sped up until he was far enough away from them so he didn't have to talk. Somebody caught up to him, however, and while he'd been expecting George, he was surprised to find it was Katie, a frown on her face.

"You going to yell at me, too?" Fred asked her flatly.

"Nah," she said. "I'll be honest, I never thought you and Ange were right for each other."

Fred blinked. "Well, just come out and say it, why don't you?" he drawled sarcastically.

Katie didn't respond for a few moments, staring at the path ahead of them, footprints leading the way down to the lake where the task would take place. "Treat Winnie better than you did Ange, okay?" she finally said.

Fred's train of thought came to a screeching halt, then took a few more seconds to reboot. "Sorry?"

"It doesn't take a genius to see what happens next," Katie told him. "You're not with Ange anymore, so you and Winnie are free to be together."

He bristled. "Who says we'll-?"

"Anyone with eyes says so, Fred," Katie rolled her eyes. "Winnie means a lot to me. She was the first real friend I made back in first year. She's had a rough time lately, what with the whole Seer thing, plus Adam – I just want to know you'll be good to her."

Fred had no idea how to respond to that. Everyone was treating it like an inevitability, like they knew more about the situation than he did. It was like everyone around him was seeing it in crystal clear clarity, while his eyes were still fogged over and blurry.

"You hearing me, Fred Weasley?" Katie pressed when he took too long to respond.

"Yes ma'am," Fred hurried to say, adding a playful salute for effect.

They reached the edge of the water where the bulk of the crowd was gathered. There was a regal desk set along the bank where the judges were sat, talking quietly amongst themselves. Lee charged ahead and got them all a good place near the front of the crowd, where they all had a perfect view of the water.

"What's this task meant to be, again?" Fred asked the others as they settled in to watch.

"I heard the judges stole something from each champion, and now they've gotta look for it in the lake," said Lee eagerly. Fred could just imagine him with a bucket of popcorn in his hands, shovelling it into his mouth as he watched the spectacle before him.

"Stole something?" Fred wondered aloud. "What could they have stolen?"

The minutes blew by along with the whistling wind. Fred didn't even want to think about how ice cold the lake was going to be for the champions, so he turned his eyes to the crowd, scanning it like second nature, searching for one person in particular.

All the champions eventually arrived, and at exactly half past the hour, Bagman's voice boomed over the gathered crowd. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle," he said, voice amplified by magic. "They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One … two … _three_!"

Fred watched as the champions all made their way into the lake, Harry the slowest, seeming to be chewing something with great urgency. He spotted Ron making his way through the crowd towards them as Harry disappeared into the lake's inky depths. The expression on his younger brother's face was anything but comforting, and instantly he knew something was wrong.

"What is it?" he asked once Ron reached them, fingers tapping out an uneven beat on his leg, nervous without really knowing why.

"We know what the judges took from the champions," Ron said, looking awfully pale even in the cold of the day.

George inched forwards, curious. "What was it?"

Ron gulped, looking paler still. "A person," he revealed tightly. "They took the person that each champion would miss most."

And as Fred began to put together the pieces, he turned his eyes to the water, heart sinking down to his feet. "But the most important person to Harry is…" he murmured, struggling to believe it.

"Winnie," Ron confirmed grimly, nodded once. Heart racing, Fred glanced away from the water long enough to note his panic mirrored on his brother's face. At his searching look, Ron continued. "They have Hermione. That's why McGonagall wanted her, too."

"Who's Hermione most important to?" asked George critically.

Ron's expression soured. "Krum, I s'pose."

Fred stopped listening, staring at the surface of the water. It was still like glass, giving no hint to whatever was happening within its icy depths. Fred tried not to think of Winona down there in the dark. She must have been bewitched – probably by Dumbledore – in order to keep her underwater without needing to breathe. But he wondered whether she were conscious, aware of the water pressing in around her.

And who knew what sort of awful things were down there? Fred thought suddenly that the giant squid could very well have been the least of her problems.

What was Dumbledore thinking, letting her do this? Fred would have thought he'd put his foot down, refusing to put his handy Seer in any sort of danger. What did it say that he had? That the task truly held no real risk, or perhaps that Dumbledore didn't care for Winona's life as much as they all assumed?

"When will we know?" Fred heard himself ask, sounding just as anxious as he felt.

"In a little under an hour, I s'pose," George answered him. He felt his twin slap him between the shoulders. "She'll be fine," he added in an undertone meant just for him.

"I know," Fred replied. Because he did. Winona could handle whatever was thrown at her, there was no doubt about that. But the thing was; he wished she didn't _have_ to.

Time ticked by, slowly at first, then even slower the longer it went on. It was like somebody had charmed all the clocks to run at half their usual speed. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he stared intently out at the glass-like surface of the lake, just waiting for a head of shiny blonde hair to appear.

Fleur materialised first, coughing up water and saying something in rapid French to a disappointed looking Madame Maxime. Cedric appeared next, Cho bobbing at his side as they helped one another to the edge of the lake. Krum and Hermione followed shortly after, the latter looking rather ridiculous with her bushy head of hair weighed down with water.

Fred expected Winona and Harry to surface shortly after, but the minutes ticked by and there was no sign of them. Dread coiling in his gut like a pile of knotted, hissing serpents, Fred watched as the time limit ran out and still neither Winona or Harry had appeared.

"What happens now?" he asked Ron anxiously. "Does Dumbledore go get them? Are they going to be okay?"

Ron made a face at him, even though he hardly looked unbothered himself. "I dunno," he said quietly, staring hard at the still water like he might be able to make them appear through sheer force of will alone.

Fred felt frozen, limbs locked into place. Time still ticked by and the crowd was muttering amongst themselves, loudly wondering if Harry Potter and his stolen friend were even still alive.

Then, just when Fred was about to barge his way through the crowd and grab Dumbledore by the robes, something burst through the still surface of the water. The crowd fell silent as they watched two heads of blonde hair splutter and cough for air.

Relief flooded Fred, so potent it nearly buckled his knees, as he watched Winona swim clumsily towards the bank, doing her best to hold up the struggling young Beauxbatons girl beside her.

Before Fred knew what he was doing, he was pushing his way through the students gathered at the water's edge, forcing his way to the front, then almost tripping in the sludge-like mud of the embankment. The water was so icy it was almost hard to tell the difference between cold and hot, but Fred didn't care, wading into the water to reach Winona halfway.

She pushed the Beauxbatons girl into his arms, and he slid his hands under her arms to help lift her out of the water. Then Fleur was there, taking her little sister from his arms and holding her tight to her chest, leaving Fred free to turn to Winona.

Her Weasley jumper – the deep purple one with the giant golden W stitched onto the front that he knew to be her favourite – was soaked through, clinging to her body like a woollen second skin. She was trembling from head to toe, lips blue and teeth clattering together noisily as she wrapped her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to find warmth.

She looked up at him and seemed to do a double take, apparently not having noticed he'd been the one to meet her. But the surprise quickly morphed into a smile that was bright like sunshine even around her chattering teeth, and Fred was helpless but to draw her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him and rubbing his hands over her arms to try and warm her up.

She huddled into his side and her small hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, and his heart absolutely did not skip a beat. Together they trudged through the water and mud up to the bank where Madam Pomfrey was waiting, thick blankets in hand.

It wasn't until Fred had taken them and was settling two over her trembling shoulders that she snapped out of her daze. "Harry," she breathed, letting go of Fred's shirt to grip the corners of her blankets instead. "Where's Harry?"

Fred quickly looked over his shoulder, relieved to find Harry stood beside a grinning Ron and tired-looking Hermione. "He's right here, Win," he said, turning her slowly, their shoes squelching loudly in the mud.

Harry looked up in the same instant and the two cousins met one another's stare. A moment passed between them, gratitude and pride the only two words Fred could think of to match the expressions they wore, and then Winona smiled peacefully and turned back to him with a small sigh.

He thought she was going to say something, and found himself on the edge of his proverbial seat. Before she could form words, however, Madam Pomfrey reappeared, a vial of bright orange potion in her hand.

She ordered Winona to tilt her head back and, although wary, Winona did as she was told, swallowing the mixture with only a small grimace. Steam shot out from her ears, and her nose crinkled at the unfamiliar feeling. "Better?" Pomfrey asked briskly.

Winona nodded once. "Yes," she said, quiet but relieved. "Thank you."

Madam Pomfrey nodded once, raked her eyes over Fred as if convinced he must have some injury also needing attending to. He shot her his most innocent smile, and with an unimpressed humph she turned and headed back over to the Beauxbatons girl who was still coughing something awful.

Winona's shivering was beginning to slow, the sound of her chattering teeth melting away. But she was still soaking wet, and Fred didn't plan to let her out of his sight any time soon. He kept his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side like it was where she belonged.

He definitely didn't notice that she wasn't complaining, or the way she wrapped her arm around his waist in return, small hand resting gently on the jut of his hip.

Bagman began to speak, voice amplified by his wand, announcing the champions' scores. Fred wasn't particularly interested in any of them other than Harry's, and he amused himself with watching droplets of water drip from the ends of Winona's soggy hair until Bagman finally got to the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," the slimy scammer continued. Fred shot him a dark look that went unnoticed by all except Winona, who looked up at him in confusion. He shook his head once and she dropped it, turning her attention to the scores. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Winona went still against Fred, body fraught with tension as she listened, not seeming to even breathe as she waited for the score.

"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However … Mr Potter's score is forty-five points!"

Winona broke out into applause along with the rest of the crowd, breaking away from Fred and squelching her way over to her cousin, whose cheeks had gone pink under all the attention. She gripped his head in her hands and brought it towards her, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead, right beside the famous lightning scar. Harry's cheeks went even pinker, and he playfully pushed her away.

Winona's smile was radiant as she spoke to him, too far away for Fred to make out the words – he really should invent something that let you eavesdrop on things that were too far away – but she looked happy, and so did Harry. He said something that made her laugh, head tilting back in the way it always did, eyes shut with her eyelashes fanned out across her cheekbones.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," the git Bagman continued quickly, seeming awfully keen to wrap it all up. Fred supposed he didn't want to risk a run in with anyone he owed coin to – like he and George. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

And with that the second task was over. Fred watched as Pomfrey reappeared, impatiently ushering all those who had been in the lake back up to the castle. Winona was caught up in the flow of the group, but she managed to toss her head back, searching the crowd for someone – for him.

Their eyes met across the muddy patch of the bank, and her lips lifted up into a tentative smile that he returned with enthusiasm until somebody knocked into him hard and he lost sight of her in the sea of students.

George found him, Lee, Alicia and Katie all trailing in his wake, and together they began to make their way back up the path to the castle, stuck towards the back of the crowd. Everyone was abuzz from the success of the task, but Fred couldn't have possibly cared less.

Alicia and Lee were talking excitedly about the merpeople they'd seen at the end of the task, and George was saying something to Katie in low tones that Fred didn't care to overhear.

He wondered where Winona was; had they taken her to the hospital wing, or had they let her escape back to her dorm? He knew which one she'd have rathered do.

When he finally got back to the common room, it was to find it packed with gossiping Gryffindors. He saw nearly everyone there, including Harry, who was now changed into dry clothes and laughing with Dean and Ron by the fire.

Fred made the unconscious decision to go to him, and his feet carried him there without his permission. Harry looked up as his taller shadow fell over them all, but when he saw who it was, the curiosity faded from his eyes.

"She went up to her dorm," he said without bothering with a hello.

That made Fred feel kind of one-track minded – which, okay, he was – but he could be completely gone for Winona and still be a functioning human being. "You did great today, Boy-Wonder," he told Harry playfully.

Amusement flickered across the kid's face, and he rolled his eyes. "Don't you start," he groaned, but there was an unmistakeable warmth in his voice as he said it.

Fred grinned, a tiny bit wicked. "You'll have to tell us everything, of course," he said eagerly. "All about the merpeople, and what kind of goodies they have hiding down there. Also what the gillyweed stuff was you used," he added, a thought coming to him. "We might be able to use an ingredient like that."

"Use it as an ingredient?" Harry echoed, confused. "An ingredient for what?"

Fred pasted a playful smile onto his face. "Time will tell," he said mysteriously before reaching out to clap him soundly on the shoulder. "Great work, Harry, really. I'm glad I had my money on you."

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final grin Fred left him to his friends. He wandered over to the stairs, glancing up to the right and for a moment wondering if there wasn't any way at all to get around the magically imposed no-boys-allowed rule on the staircase. But they'd tried everything in the past, so he doubted he'd miraculously come up with a way around it now.

Besides, Angelina was still up there, either crying her eyes out or seething with fury – neither of which he particularly wanted to be witness to – so instead he turned to the left and made his way up to his own dorm.

There was a party going on downstairs in Harry's honour, but before he could even think about getting into the spirit of things, he _had_ to change his shoes. His socks were still soaked through from the lake, his toes long since gone numb.

Somebody started the music downstairs, and it drifted up the staircase and into the hall with the dorms. Fred reached the sixth years' door and pushed it open, already beginning to shed his outer coat in favour of something a little lighter. It wasn't until he'd tossed the coat onto the end of his bed that he realised he wasn't alone.

He'd swear both his heart and brain stopped working at the sight of Winnie stood in the doorway to his bathroom, barefoot and wet-haired, a pair of his pyjama pants and one of his old Puddlemere United shirts hanging over her smaller frame. She had a towel draped around her shoulders, and was using it to dry the ends of her bright hair.

They stared at one another silently, Fred so stunned by her appearance that he couldn't for the life of him think of anything smooth to say.

"Win," he finally said, like an idiot. "Hi."

Her lips twitched as she kept on rubbing at her damp hair. The amusement in her eyes disappeared rather suddenly, replaced by uncertainty. "I tried going to my dorm, but Ange was in there – she's really upset. Apparently I'm the last person she wants to see right now. So I got out of there before I made things any worse and figured this was my next best bet."

Fred just stared, the realisation that they were all alone striking him, making him feel like the floor was swaying beneath him. At his lack of a reaction, Winnie glanced down at herself self-consciously.

"I helped myself to your trunk," she added needlessly. "I hope you don't mind."

He wanted to tell her that seeing her in his clothes made something deep inside of him purr like a great cat. He wanted to tell her that if she only ever wanted to wear his clothes from now on, he'd happily relinquish everything he owned. He wanted to tell her that he couldn't wait until she eventually gave them back smelling of her – all vanilla and charcoal.

What he actually said was:

"I don't mind."

Short and to the point, but Fred had never really been someone to wax poetic in a serious moment. As far as he was concerned, poems were only good for teasing purposes – as his sister had proved back in their fourth year. Why bother with a hundred flowery words when you could say the same thing in ten, sincere all the same?

Winnie was still staring at him, probably waiting for him to say something, but what could he say? So he fell back on what came easiest – he cracked a joke.

"We look like drowned rats, don't we?" he asked, letting a grin split his face as he finally kicked off his shoes at the end of his bed, then peeled off his shocks and tossed them in the hamper in the corner. "Could be worse," he added as he foraged in his trunk for dry clothes. "We could have been naked."

From Winnie there was only silence, and he shut his eyes, never regretting opening his mouth so much as he did in that moment. Why did he have to be such a colossal _prat_?

He opened his eyes and turned to look at Winnie with a smile, hoping to play it off, only to spin right into her. She'd moved silently across the floor, that towel still hung over her shoulders, blonde hair damp from the lake and the shower she'd probably just taken.

Now she stood inches away, staring up at him with eyes the colour of a storm, endless and loud and peaceful all at once. She didn't say anything, but he wished she would, if only to cover the sound of his own racing heart.

"You just about scared me to death today," he'd said before making a conscious decision to speak. "Why would you even agree to do something so reckless?"

It was more or less what he wanted to say, but it came out a little more venomous than he'd intended. That peaceful look in her eyes melted away, replaced by a raging hurricane that made him want to duck for cover. She took a large step away, going back to drying the ends of her hair, staring out the window instead.

"Dumbledore asked me to do it," she said, voice like steel. "What was I meant to do, say no? Besides, it's not like I was actually in any danger."

"You don't know that," Fred argued. "What if the bewitchment wore off? What if the merpeople went back on whatever deal they made with Bagman and skewered you like a kebab?"

Winona had the gall to roll her eyes. "I'm too valuable to Dumbledore," she said flippantly, like it were a fact of life. Fred supposed it kind of was.

He wasn't sure anything was as valuable to that crotchety old wizard than a student with such unique abilities, not to mention having such control over Harry Potter. Sometimes Fred thought the headmaster saw it like a game of chess. Like Winona was his queen – protected, yes, but at the end of the day? Expendable.

"He'd never let anything happen to me," she finished with a shrug, like that was all there was to it. Fred crossed his arms over his chest, frowning down at her in disapproval. "Oh, come on," she scoffed suddenly. "If I were anyone else, you'd be grilling me about the merpeople, and the giant squid, and the bewitchment Dumbledore used."

"But you're _not_ anyone else."

"That isn't _fair_, Fred," she cried, letting go of the end of the towel so it hung limp around her neck.

A droplet of water was rolling from her jawline, trailing down to her collarbones. Fred followed it with his eyes, swallowing thickly. "Do you want to be like anyone else to me?" he asked, the words unbidden. But once they were spoken, they couldn't be taken back.

He watched the way her stormy eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion like she thought she might be walking into some sort of trap. "What does that even mean?" she demanded.

He was in too deep now. What was the point in backing away? What was the point in stopping? This was it, the tipping point of the dangerous game they'd been playing for so long now. Was anyone going to win, or was this going to burn them both to the ground? The not knowing was the worst part, but the only way to find out was to charge forwards and get the answers for himself.

He took a large step towards her, disappearing the space between them. He heard her breath catch and something in him purred again, holding her stare captive in his own. "It means I want you to tell me what you want us to be," he said, _finally_ just throwing caution to the wind.

In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, right?

Winona's eyes went wide and she blinked, seeming to struggle to process what he was saying. He let her think, watching her, noting the different emotions seeming to fight one another for pride of place behind her eyes.

She pursed her lips in thought, and his eyes darted down to them. Everything that was stopping him before now was gone, his worry nothing but a star on the distant horizon. Angelina and him were done, Winona and Nott were over, and she was staring at him like she wanted him _almost_ as much as he wanted her.

But still he waited patiently, waiting and waiting until finally her eyes flickered down to his lips, and it was all the permission he needed.

Winding a solid arm around her middle, his hand splayed against the small of her back, he used it to pull her flush against him. Then, without hesitation – because Merlin knew there'd been enough of that to last a lifetime – he swooped down and pressed his lips to hers.

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**A/N: This week's spotlight review goes to: _zZSweet-JasmineZz –_ thanks so much for your review. Hearing that you get happy and excited every time I upload is the best feeling. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you liked this one!**

**To those who I know will be wondering: this ending of the chapter doesn't mean everything will magically work out from here. They've still got a lot to say, and a lot to work through. But they're definitely heading in the right direction. See you again soon with another chapter!**


	41. More than just your friend

**A/N: Just a forewarning: I've altered the timeline just a little bit to fit into my story. Most of you probably won't even notice, as it's a super minor change that has no real effect on the plot, but it just made for a smoother narrative for me. **

**Hope you're all safe and healthy with all the coronavirus madness happening out there. If you're stuck indoors like I am, then I can imagine you'll appreciate this update. See you at the bottom!**

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One moment they were staring like they were searching one another's souls, and in the next Fred had her flush against him, his lips pressed to hers.

Winona gasped against him, but just as quickly melted into it. She stopped thinking; stopped wondering and deliberating and second guessing, and she just threw herself into Fred with everything she had.

She wound her arms around his neck, using the angle to push herself up higher against him. He retaliated by wrapping his other arm around her waist, gripping her tightly for traction and lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her feet left the floor and she could do nothing but hold onto him, held in his embrace, lips fused together like they were helpless but to be consumed.

It felt like it were something she'd been holding back from. A cake she'd spied at a party that she hadn't been allowed to touch. But now that she had it in her hands, tasted it on her tongue, she wondered why she'd ever bothered to hold back in the first place.

Kissing Fred was like the feeling of being away from home for years and years, then finally stepping through the door to find the fireplace crackling and the smell of fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen; a home more perfect than you could have even imagined. Because that's exactly what it felt like to Winona.

Kissing Adam, it had been awkward and perfunctory. Kissing Jeremiah had been like scorching fire, burning her alive from the inside out. Exciting and hot, but deadly all the same.

Kissing Fred? That was like coming home.

Slowly, as if she were something delicate and breakable, Fred began to lower her feet back down to the floor. Weightless no more, she let her hands travel from his shoulders up into his red hair. Fred sighed against her when she ran her short nails against his scalp, and she took the opportunity to nip at his bottom lip then soothe it with a quick flash of her tongue.

She was the first to pull away, desperate for air. Her eyes stayed shut and her fingers remained tangled in his shaggy hair. He moved closer, noses brushing until finally his forehead rested against hers. For a moment they were just breathing the same air, and it felt more intimate than anything she'd ever done with anyone else.

But she couldn't keep her eyes shut forever. Sooner or later they had to open, and she had to face this new reality she and Fred had created for themselves.

Eyelashes fluttering open, she was met with Fred's cornflower eyes already open and watching her. She swallowed, finding her mouth dry. Slowly, tentatively, she untangled her fingers from his messy red hair then unwound her arms from around his neck. Bringing them down to his chest until her palms were pressed gently to his chest, her cheeks warmed at how fast his heart was racing, like a galloping horse.

She wasn't sure what to do other than look at him. Words escaped her. What could she say after that? After they'd crossed a line she wasn't sure could ever be taken back? Had they just made an awful mistake?

But then Fred spoke and all doubt flew from her mind.

"I want to be more than just your friend," he confessed, voice raspy and thick with honesty. "Does that sound good to you?"

In typical Weasley twin fashion, it was such a casual question. _Does that sound good to you?_ Like he was asking what she thought of lamb instead of steak for dinner that night. But somehow it held her entire future in its mere six syllables. It gave her unfathomable power.

Because she could say no. He knew she could. Knew she could break him and her and everything they'd built since that day she'd punched a bully in the face on a train bound for a magical school in Scotland. But she didn't _want _to, and he probably knew that, too.

"Yeah," she rasped, just as wrecked. "That sounds good to me."

Fred smiled. Not his usual impish smirk, or his wide guffaw of hilarity, but instead something wide and sincere and gentle and crackling with warmth like the hearth of a fireplace. Winona smiled back, finding herself inexplicably shy.

His hands rested on her waist, and when his thumb brushed over the sharp jut of her hipbone, she bit her lip to smother a gasp. Fred smiled, just a little bit smug, and slowly disentangled from her. "If I go have a quick shower, will you wait here for me?" he asked hopefully.

Wordless, Winona could only nod her head. He ducked down, pecking her lips like it were the most natural thing in the whole world.

"I'll be right back," he promised, then ducked down to his trunk, swiped up a handful of clean clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door clicked shut and the shower turned on, and Winona was left alone in the boys' dorm, heart thundering in her chest.

She felt strangely like the floor had been pulled out from underneath her, and she were just hanging in this odd state of limbo where she wasn't sure what was real and what was total illusion. Forcing herself to take a few deep breaths, she padded with bare feet over to Fred's bed, hesitating only a moment before throwing caution to the wind and climbing onto it.

Even with the fire burning, it was cold, and this time there was no hesitation as Winona lifted his covers and crawled underneath. Instantly she was warm, and the pillow smelt like Fred – all gunpowder and fresh soil. Winona took the towel off her shoulders, tossing it over the foot of the bed then sinking down into the mattress and closing her eyes.

She was tired but not sleepy. Exhausted from the day she'd had but too wired by what had happened just now to even think about getting any sleep. For now she just enjoyed Fred's bed, soaking up its warmth and its scent, and thinking that if she had the choice in that moment, she might never leave this spot ever again.

She tried not to overthink things, knowing it would just send her into a spiral. She wanted to live in this moment, and this moment alone. She wasn't interested in their past, and she certainly wasn't focused on their future. She just wanted to exist as she was, without time ruining things, or making them any more complicated.

Soon enough the sound of the shower stopped and the door creaked open. She still had her eyes shut, so she felt more than saw Fred's relief that she was still there, curled in his bed like she belonged. Maybe to him, she did.

"Win?" he whispered, unsure whether she were asleep or not.

She waited only a heartbeat before opening her eyes and peering up at him from where her face was half buried in his pillow. Their eyes met, and as if they were helpless but to smile, matching grins stretched across their faces.

Emboldened, Winona lifted the covers on his side, and though the tips of his ears had gone bright red, Fred still didn't hesitate to climb underneath the covers with her. He laid down on the mattress, stiff as a board, arms by his sides.

Winona rolled her eyes fondly. "Don't be weird," she chided him, shifting closer and curling up against him even as her heart fluttered nervously.

She wound an arm around his waist, threaded their legs together and then rested her chin on his shoulder. She could feel Fred's heart racing through his skin and smiled as she pressed a gentle but cheeky kiss to the junction of his shoulder and throat.

"Relax," she whispered, forcing herself to do the same.

Fred took a deep breath, then slowly let his arm curl around her in return. They breathed together, Winona soaking up his presence, calm in a way she'd hadn't been in weeks. Like the anxious chatter and what-ifs in her head had gone quiet, replaced by bone-deep tranquility.

"I like this," she confessed, subconsciously rubbing her toes against his shin. It was easy, mindless affection. It came as simple as breathing; like they'd been doing it all their lives.

"Me too," he admitted, fingers trailing thoughtlessly up and down her side. He hit a particularly sensitive spot and startled when Winona giggled. He propped himself up onto his elbow, smirking down at her, eyes alight with that familiar mischief she so adored. "Are you ticklish?" he asked impishly. She stubbornly didn't answer, burying her face in his shoulder instead. But that in itself was all the answer he needed. "You are. How did I not know that?"

She peeked up at him warily. "You have to promise to use this information for good, and not for evil," she ordered him as sternly as she could manage while curled around him like a needy octopus.

The smirk on his face widened, and she felt a sinking horror. "And what exactly is this 'evil', you speak of?" he asked sweetly.

She knew what was coming – whether by premonition or just because she knew him so well, she couldn't say. "Don't you dare."

Fred grinned, wide and sparkling with mischief, before he dove in, ticking her sides and sending her into throws of laughter. She tried to fight him off, kicking at him with her feet, but he wouldn't give. Finally she hooked her leg around his hip and threw her weight at him until their positions were switched.

He was so stunned by the reversal that he paused his assault, and she took the opportunity to snatch up his hands, pinning them above his head.

He went still, staring up at her with wide, surprised eyes. Winona grinned wickedly, leaning down until their noses brushed and watching as he followed her every move. "You wanna know something, Freddie?" she whispered, and Fred could only nod soundlessly. "I _really_ hate being tickled."

Fred swallowed, nodding again. She rewarded him with a sparkling beam, bravely swooping in to press a soft kiss to his lips, then sitting back up and rolling off him, only to curl up into his side once more, threading their legs together like the most lovely of puzzle pieces.

Face pressed into his side, Winona couldn't help but giggle. The whole thing was so farfetched. If she'd been told twenty-four hours ago that this was where she'd be come the next night, she'd have laughed it off and made an off-colour joke about the state of Fred's sheets.

But now here she was, curled up and content. Happy while also mind-numbingly terrified. Everything was different now; was it for the better?

"We should probably talk," she finally said reluctantly, tracing nonsense shapes into his chest with the tip of her finger.

Fred let out a huffing laugh. "You could sound a little more enthusiastic."

She pulled far enough away that he could see her crinkled nose. "I don't do well with these sort of things."

Fred's answering smirk was affectionate. "I know."

This time when she pulled back, it was completely, pushing away from him and sitting upright with her legs crossed underneath her, toying idly with the small ring on her middle finger.

The levity in Fred's face disappeared, replaced by a more sober expression. "When you say we should talk…" he said carefully, copying her and sitting on the bed across from her, legs crossed and facing her.

Winona took a deep breath. What came next wasn't going to be easy, and she got the feeling it was going to either make or break them. But she knew she couldn't go any further if they didn't address the elephant in the room.

"What you said to me," she began, hating how unsteady her voice came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What you said really upset me; and I don't think it was fair."

Fred frowned like he had no clue what she was talking about, but as she stared at him expectantly for a long moment, realisation crashed over him like a torrential downpour. Pain and regret twisted on his face, and Winona said nothing, her heart swelling into her throat.

"Win, I didn't – I mean, at the time – I was angry – I was _jealous_," he said quickly, such pain in his eyes that she almost felt bad for bringing it up. _Almost._

It needed to be said, and before they took this anywhere meaningful, she had to know he didn't mean it – or at the very least that he felt some guilt over it.

She set her jaw, grit her teeth, and stood up for herself in a way she hadn't ever before. "No amount of anger or jealousy _ever_ excuses calling me a whore," she said, voice hard and as pretty as diamond. Remorse flooded his expression, and she couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of it. "Tell me you're sorry," she said it so softly, he nearly missed it.

"Merlin – Win – of _course_ I'm sorry," Fred babbled, reaching out to scoop up her hands, gripping her so tightly that she got the feeling he was afraid she wasn't going to accept his apology. That she was going to get up and walk away from him, for good. "I regretted it the second it left my mouth. I hate myself for it – I was blinded by jealousy. And that isn't an excuse, but it's…it's an explanation."

Winona said nothing, letting him clutch her hands and watching him inscrutably.

"George tore me a new one after it happened," he continued, looking more anxious than she'd ever seen him. As though this might not be enough to absolve him. "But he didn't have to – I know it was awful of me. And if you decide not to forgive me – well, I'll understand-"

"Oh, shut up," she said, and Fred fell abruptly silent, eyes wide and alarmed, like a deer in the headlights. He didn't seem to know what to make of her interruption, so she allowed herself to smile. "Of course I forgive you, you idiot," she laughed quietly.

Fred blinked like she'd just spoken fluent Gobbledegook. "You do?"

"We all say and do stupid things when we're angry," she told him softly, gripping him in return, stroking her thumbs over the skin on the backs of his hands. "Merlin knows I've committed my fair share of atrocities when I'm pissed; sometimes for no reason other than not getting any sleep the night before."

He stared at her silently, eyes narrowed as he tried to work out what she was saying.

"It wasn't okay, but I care about you enough to forgive you, and give you another chance. But Fred Weasley, so help me God, if the word 'whore' ever so much as comes out of your mouth in relation to me again-"

"It wont!" he insisted, jumping on the opportunity she'd given him.

It was enough to make her smile. "Well, then that's that."

Fred swallowed thickly. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he did, like he were nervous, and she leaned in so their noses brushed. She stayed there, breathing his air, until his eyes fluttered shut and she slotted her lips gently between him.

The kiss was chaste and delicate, like the seal of a promise, and her skin tingled with something she could only describe as magic. Winona pulled back to find his eyes still shut, and she pressed another gentle kiss to his cheek before leaning back and squeezing his hands.

He opened his eyes, looking adorably dazed, and Winona's heart melted just a little. There was still more to say; they weren't done yet.

"Fred – the last two relationships I had, they didn't turn out so well," she began again. The hazy look in Fred's eyes disappeared, replaced by something clear and determined. He listened with the kind of fervour he'd seldom had before. "I don't want what happened with them to happen to _us_," she finished honestly, because she was done with secrets between them. She was all in; and she could only hope he was, too.

"It won't," he said, the words easy and confident, like they were a simple fact of life. Exasperated, Winona sent him a flat stare. "I mean it," he insisted. "Look into the future. Tell me what you see."

Winona rolled her eyes, growing annoyed. "You know it doesn't work that way."

Fred rolled his eyes back, like _she_ were being the annoying one. "I don't mean as a Seer," he huffed. "Look ahead, just as you. Imagine your future. What's in it? What's always been in it?"

And she knew the answer in her heart and the answer he was looking for were one and the same. "You," she said, cheeks turning pink. Fred grinned back widely, showing off his pearly white teeth, a little bit impish. "Shut up," she told him, but it lacked bite.

"Win," he said, reaching across the bed and taking her fidgeting hands in his own, gripping firmly. "Whatever happens, we won't lose each other. Not ever. Not even if this whole thing crashes and burns."

Reluctantly amused, Winona's lips curved up at the ends. "Are you expecting it to crash and burn?" she wondered, a little bit playful.

"Not at all," Fred told her without a hint of doubt.

"You sound so sure."

"I always have been," he told her, bright and happy in a way she hadn't seen him for months.

"Well why couldn't you have said something sooner?" she asked, finding herself annoyed again. It was like that with Fred, a life of walking the line between annoyed and amused. She wished she hated it, but she really didn't.

"Why couldn't _you _have said something sooner?" he shot back, the smile in his eyes never disappearing, his hands holding hers like he intended never to let go. "It takes two."

Winona narrowed her eyes. "You were with Ange," she reminded him. "I'm many things, Fred Weasley, but a home-wrecker isn't one of them." Instead of looking chagrinned, Fred just smiled as if in that moment there was nothing in the world that could melt the smile from his face. Winona scrunched her nose at him in displeasure. "This is serious, Fred. If we're going to do this-"

"Do what?"

Winona paused, peering at him with suspicion. "_This_," she said again.

Fred smirked. "And what is _this_?"

Praying to Merlin for patience, Winona glared. "Are you looking to get slapped?"

He rolled his eyes, less than chastised. "Win, I'm _happy_ over here," he told her warmly, a sort of fire crackling within the words, and she knew them to be true. "Why don't you stop worrying and come join me in the land of content?"

But Winona wasn't so ready to stop fretting. She did shuffled closer, moving until their knees brushed, and held tight to his hands. "Fred, I don't know if we can just waltz down into the common room hand in hand and expect everything to work itself out," she said softly. "Ange is one of my best friends; she was in love with you, and you just broke up _today_. How's that going to make her feel?"

Finally Fred's blasé attitude shifted. He didn't frown, but he wasn't smiling, staring down at their hands, gently tracing patterns into her upturned palm. She got the feeling he was just enjoying being able to touch her freely; it was a feeling she more than shared.

"I didn't think about that," Fred admitted, a little bit ashamed.

Guilt itching at her insides, Winona threaded their fingers together and ducked her head until she caught his stare. "What're we gonna do?" she asked gently, pleading with him to have an answer, because she didn't want this all on her. Maybe that was selfish, or maybe it was just part of being in a relationship – sharing one another's burdens.

Suddenly unsure, his hands tugged and pushed at her own, a thoughtless affection. "We are…together, right?" he asked awkwardly.

Winona couldn't help but smile. She leaned closer, and as if helpless but to copy, Fred mirrored her, leaning forwards until their breath intermingled. "You wanna be my boyfriend, Fred Weasley?" she asked him, whispering it like a secret.

He might have smiled, but she didn't see, too busy counting the different shades of blue in his eyes. He didn't say anything, didn't seem to know how to possibly reply. He just exhaled in a rush and ducked in to press his lips to hers. She grinned into the kiss, making it clumsy, but neither cared. Winona suddenly understood with a little more clarity what he meant about being happy with him in the land of content.

She hadn't realised how much she'd wanted this before now. She thought it dangerous, really. Like any addict, now that she'd had a taste of a single moment of happiness with Fred, who was to say she wouldn't demand a thousand more? A million? Would she ever be able to stop? She wanted a lifetime.

Fred pulled back and Winona opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her. "Does that answer your question?"

"Hmm, not quite," she said playfully. "I think I'm going to need a more in-depth answer."

He hummed back, cheesy grin firmly in place. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me too."

He tugged her unexpectedly into his lap and she let out a quiet squeal of surprise as his hands pressed to the small of her back, drawing her against him. With nowhere else to put her legs, she wrapped them around his hips, straddling him on the bed. Lips melded together, they kissed languidly, like they had all the time in the world. In that moment, it certainly felt like they did.

And some part of her – the anxious, eager-to-please part – wanted to take it further. She wanted him like she hadn't wanted anybody before, but there was a voice in her head reminding her that she'd given into Jeremiah within only a few days, and look how that had turned out. She was determined not to ruin things with Fred. She was determined not to _rush_ it.

So it was with a great execution of willpower that she pulled back, gasping for air, hands tangled once more in his hair. Fred made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, and he tugged her back towards him. Winona avoided his lips with a small laugh.

"We have to stop, or somebody's gonna come looking for us," she said quietly, as if not wanting to let the world hear her daring it.

"Nobody's gonna come looking for us," he tried to assure her, hand running down the length of her spine. Winona bit her lip as she shivered, but still, she refused to give in.

"Well, I'm hungry," she said instead, leaning backwards and taking some of her weight off of him. "We should go down and grab an early dinner."

"Well, I guess being put under that kind of bewitchment for a whole day's bound to make you a little hungry," he said, watching her as she climbed reluctantly off his lap and reclaimed her seat on the mattress opposite him.

But Winona knew they couldn't leave the dorm just yet. "Fred," she began quietly, dread settling like a stone in her belly. "I think we should hold off on making this…public knowledge," she said, trying to be delicate about it.

Fred didn't outwardly react, but by now she knew him almost better than she knew herself, and she could see the drop in his mood. He didn't say anything, watching her silently, and Winona took a deep, nervous breath.

"It isn't fair to Ange, for us to start dating the _same day_ you broke up," she said, a frown pinching her brow.

"Ange knows how I feel about you," said Fred, and Winona couldn't possibly deny the small, electric thrill his words gave her. "She told me herself that she was okay with this happening."

"Be that as it may," said Winona, as if she were in a job interview rather than talking with her new boyfriend about labels, "how is the rest of the school gonna look at me? They're gonna think I'm the villain here."

"Since when do you care what other people think?" Fred countered.

"Since Rita Skeeter aired all my dirty laundry in her article," she replied without missing a beat. "I'm already the freak with visions, I don't want to add 'home-wrecker' onto the list of things people can talk shit about."

Fred's expression was hard, but not hostile. Maybe a little disappointed. "So, what, you think we should wait?"

"Just a while," she said, desperately hoping he'd understand. Because she couldn't lose him over this. Fred's expression remained firm, and Winona looked away. "I'm just not ready to be the school's Undesirable No.1 for the second time in a single year," she said, feeling oddly naked with the confession. Her shoulders drooped and she avoided looking at him, toying with a loose thread in his bedspread.

His hand wrapped around hers, stopping her from ripping any more of the thread from his sheets. "Win," he said, quieter than usual. "If you want to keep it quiet for awhile…I understand," he told her, almost like it pained him to do so.

Hesitantly, she met his eyes. "You do?"

His hard expression had softened, and now it melted further in the face of her round eyes and pinched mouth. "I just don't want it to be a repeat of the _Nott_ situation," he spat the name like it was acid on his tongue.

"It won't be," she promised immediately. "I want to be with you. And as of this moment, I am. But we're just going to keep it on the down-low for a few weeks. Until the fuss over yours and Ange's breakup has faded away."

He slid his arms around her middle, pulling her back into his lap again like he could hardly stand another minute of space between them. She let out a bark of surprised laughter. Fred was even more affectionate than she'd thought he'd be – and she loved it.

"I'm telling George," he said, a compromise.

Winona rolled her eyes. "Obviously," she told him, and his goofy grin nearly caused her heart to explode. "And Lee, too."

"Lee?" he asked. "I love the guy, but he couldn't keep a secret to save his life."

"Well, how else are we going to be able to explain why I'm up here in your bed all the time?" she countered.

Fred's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and she knew she'd said the wrong thing. A sly smirk broke out across his face, and her heart leapt again – like it was sick of hiding and had finally come alive, reacting to Fred in the way it had always wanted but never felt free to.

"Planning to spend a lot of time in my bed, are you, Win?" he asked smugly.

"Probably, yeah," she said, owning it without shame. "That a problem?" She pushed away from him as if to stand and leave. "If you'd rather, I can go back to my own-"

He gripped her hips again, pulling her flush against him, and Winona's breath left her in a huff as they were pressed chest-to-chest. "Don't you dare," he murmured into the hollow of her throat; not like a warning, but like a plea.

_Please don't leave_, he seemed to beg her without actually using the words. _Please don't ever leave again._

She sighed with playful exasperation. "Well, I s'pose if you're sure…" she trailed off for no other reason than talk became difficult when he pressed his lips to the spot over her racing pulse. She slid her hands into his hair again – because, really, she loved his hair – holding him to her as he kissed her throat. His thumbs rubbed little circles into her hips, and she realised she'd never felt so _treasured_ by anyone before. It was enough to make her eyes mist, but she bit her tongue until the feeling went away and focused on Fred's breath against her sensitive skin.

"How d'you expect me not to touch you?" Fred asked, finally coming up for air. She looked down at him from where she hovered a little above, tilted upwards so their pelvises wouldn't touch. _Slow_, she reminded herself, _don't rush anything_.

"Hm?" she hummed distantly, feeling his skin warm and soft against hers.

"Now that I'm allowed to," he continued, staring up at her like it were a question on an exam he really needed to know the answer to, "how am I meant to stop?"

She sent him a befuddled frown. "You've always been allowed to touch me."

When his eyes lit up with wickedness, Winona knew she'd made yet another mistake. "Oh really?" he asked, nearly purring the words. Her insides tied themselves up into knots. "So, you would have been totally fine if I'd just come up to you and kissed you here…" he fell silent as he began to kiss a path up from her collarbones to the spot beneath her ear that covered her skin in tingles. "Or here…" he murmured, trailing his mouth over the sharp line her of jaw. "Or here…"

When he kissed her this time, she melted into it like she never had before, kissing him with a fervour that left _him_ the one breathless. She nibbled at his full lower lip and surrendered herself to the feelings he was creating within her; hot and bubbling and passionate like she'd never known.

Distracted from her need to take things slow, she unthinkingly pressed closer, hips slotting together as their pelvises brushed. Fred's breath hitched against her lips, and Winona stopped breathing completely.

It took a great deal of self restraint to pull back from him, staring into his eyes, the cornflower blue almost completely hidden by the black of his blown pupils. She was sure hers were much the same.

"We should-"

"Take things slow," he finished, nodding in agreement. She felt a flush of relief that he was on the same page as her; something that hadn't been the case for quite awhile now. "Why don't you change back into your clothes?"

She blinked. "Hm?"

Fred looked amused. "Not that seeing you in my clothes isn't the single greatest thing on the planet; but if we're planning to keep this quiet, you slinking from my dorm wearing my favourite Puddlemere jersey isn't going to help keep suspicion at bay."

She glanced down at herself, finally remembering that she was wearing clothes she'd pinched from his trunk. Her cheeks went just the slightest bit pink, and she climbed off him. "I don't _slink_," she said, scrunching her nose at the thought.

Fred just laughed. Winona ignored him, fetching her wand and slipping into the bathroom where she'd left her clothes. With a flick of her wand, the clothes were dry and clean, and she changed into them silently, giving both herself and Fred some much-needed time to cool down.

Reappearing in her own clothes, she put his back into his pigsty of a trunk and then met him where he was standing at the door.

"So," he said before she could reach for the handle, "outside this door, everything's to be kept strictly innocent, yes?"

"That's right," she nodded.

"So, no holding hands, or kissing between classes, or ravaging you up against tapestries…"

Rolling her eyes, Winona reached for his hand. Sliding her fingers between his, she held on tight for a moment, just letting herself feel him there with her. "You're okay with that?" she asked, looking up at him from under her lashes.

"I'd be okay with anything if it was what you needed," he told her without so much as a beat of hesitation. Winona's chest swelled to the point of pain, and all she could so was push herself up onto her toes and press a chaste, gentle kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Thanks," she whispered against him.

He didn't answer but to wrap the arm not holding hers around her, holding her tight for one long moment before finally he pulled back, opened the door, and waved her out into the hall.

The common room wasn't completely empty, but it was certainly quieter than it had been before. Winona supposed everyone was down at the feast.

George, Lee and Katie were all hanging out by the fire, and the pair made their way towards them, smiling casually at a few of the called greetings as they passed. "There you are," said Katie when they reappeared. "I was wondering where you'd got to."

"I desperately needed a shower," Winona told her, glad it wasn't a lie. "I'm half starved. We heading down to dinner?"

Luckily, nobody seemed to have noticed she and Fred come from the boys' dorms, so there was no immediate grilling or not-so-subtle looks. Katie began to ask her eagerly all about the lake, and Winona answered dutifully ("I dunno, Katie. I was bewitched. All I remember is that it was fucking _freezing._") as they made their way down to dinner.

Taking their seats at the Gryffindor table, Winona was somehow both relieved and disappointed that Fred took the spot opposite her rather than beside her. It was for the best, she reminded herself. Things needed to cool down before they could do this properly. The last thing she wanted was to be the centre of the school's gossip mill, _again._

Angelina was there too, but she wasn't sat with their usual group. Instead she sat with Alicia some way up the table, closer to Ron and Harry, who looked exasperated but content, happily eating his way through a bowl of mince pies.

"Where'd you disappear to?" Lee asked loudly, and she looked away from her cousin to find him staring at her expectantly.

"I told you," she said, "I needed to shower."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "For over an hour?"

She met his stare, a challenge in her own. "Are you asking me about my shower routine, Lee?" she asked him, voice full of molten sugar. Lee, even for the lady's man he so claimed to be, went a little bit darker at the insinuation. "That's what I thought," she said, satisfied, and reached for the green beans.

Dinner passed without incident, until about halfway through when she felt a foot nudging at hers. Her initial thought was that somebody had tried to kick somebody else and hit the wrong person, but then they nudged at her again, and she looked up to meet Fred's eyes.

He was smirking at her over the top of his shepherd's pie. A thrill went through her and her blood turned thick. Not to be outmatched, however, she promptly caught one of his feet between both of hers. His smirked turned into a grin and she rolled her eyes, pointedly turning her attention back to George, who was spitballing ideas on how to get a tour of the bottom of the lake for himself.

Dinner passed and once they were up in the common room, Winona had to admit, she was rather tired. She cast a glance around the room but couldn't find any of her friends around. She figured Fred had taken George and Lee up to the dorm to spill his guts about their new relationship status. With the girls all missing, she knew there was only one place they'd all be.

She considered heading over to Harry. He was sat in the far corner with Ron, who was eagerly telling his embellished tale of heroics to anybody who'd listen, but her cousin seemed content where he was, and she didn't want to disturb him.

So, knowing she had no possible excuse, Winona reluctantly trudged her way up the stairs to her dorm. She considered knocking on the door when she got there, but that would probably only make things weirder, so she opened the door without announcing herself.

Katie and Alicia were both sitting on Angelina's bed, while Hope was on her own, working on an essay. Angelina had been in the middle of speaking, but as her entrance all chatter in the room came to an abrupt, uncomfortable halt. The silence rang out and Winona bit down on the inside of her cheek, unsure how to react. Angelina's eyes were bloodshot and swollen from her tears.

"Hi," Winona finally said, the first to break the quiet. It was lame, but it was all she had.

To her surprise, Angelina shot her a smile. It was small and weak, but Winona appreciated it all the same. "Hey Winnie."

Winona hovered in the doorway, unsure where to go from there.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Just get in here, already," she said with a huff.

Winona obediently pushed off the doorframe, shuffling awkwardly into the room. Angelina must have shot the others a look, because Katie murmured a hurried goodnight and disappeared out the door, and Alicia mumbled something about a Transfiguration essay that couldn't wait and made a beeline for her bed.

Glancing up, Winona found Angelina staring directly at her, and she figured this probably wasn't a conversation she was going to be able to put off any longer. With a resigned sigh, Winona perched herself awkwardly on the very end of Angelina's bed, toying idly with the cheap toy ring she wore that she'd won at an arcade with Harry the summer before.

"I'm not mad at you," said Angelina suddenly.

Winona looked up from the plastic ring, eyebrows raised. She hadn't exactly been expecting a shouting match, but surely there was going to be some sort of resentment, some sign of heartbreak, or betrayal? The surprise must have shown on her face. Angelina rolled her bloodshot eyes.

"I knew what I was getting into," she said, sniffling quietly. "I knew, and I walked into it anyway. This is as much _my_ fault as it is _his._"

Winona pursed her lips. "And me?"

Angelina shrugged. "You can't control whether or not somebody loves you."

The words were said with such absolute surety, like it were a simple fact of life that Fred Weasley _loves_ Winona Andrews. Her heart leapt in her chest at the word, then turned into rock and sunk down to her feet like a stone in the lake. Again, her expression gave her away.

"Of _course_ he loves you, Winnie," she said with a disapproving tut, as if Winona were being deliberately obtuse. "Anyone with eyes knows that."

Winona wanted to ask why the hell she'd put herself through all that if she knew there was only one way it could end. Why would she try when she knew all that could come was failure? Why put herself in such an emotionally precarious position? If she was right about how Fred felt – and that was a rather big 'if' – then why let herself fall for him at all?

She supposed the answer were rather simple, in the end. Who could resist falling in love with Fred Weasley? He was like sugar quills, or the smell of charcoal on your hands; he was irresistible.

"Do you love him?" Angelina asked abruptly. Winona looked up, alarm in her eyes. "You're a bit harder to read. I know you care about him – but do you _love_ him? Are you _in_ love with him?"

Winona couldn't answer. Her tongue felt numb and her mouth was too dry. Angelina smiled at her silence.

"I think you should figure that out," she said softly. "Because I don't want him to ever feel the way I feel right now."

Winona cleared her throat, reaching up to tug uncomfortably at a loose piece of her hair. "How do you feel?"

"Heartbroken," said Angelina bluntly. Winona couldn't help but wince. "I'm going to need some time," she added, voice gentle. "I just need space to…to work through it…"

"I understand," said Winona quickly. "I, um, I'm here though," she added, feeling a little awkward as she said it, but Angelina didn't seem to pick up on it. "If you need anything. I'm always here. You're my friend."

Angelina didn't answer for a long few moments, and when she did her eyes were filled with a thin sheen of tears. "You've had a big day," she said weakly. "You should get some rest."

Winona felt like utter shit, but what could she do but agree? "Okay," she murmured. "Um, night."

"Goodnight," Angelina said, and the moment Winona was out of her way she shut the curtains around her bed and cast a Silencing Charm, if the deathly quiet that echoed in her wake was anything to go by.

Winona glanced over at Alicia. Her friend had given up pretending to do homework, now just smiling at Winona sadly. She didn't appear angry, or in any way upset about what had happened, but Winona could tell she wasn't intending to do anything that could be mistaken for taking sides. She understood, and even admired her a little for it.

There was barely any talk in the dorm as the four young women got ready for bed. They cleaned their teeth and brushed their hair in silence, the only sound Hope's off-key humming as she went about her nightly routine.

Laid on her bed in the pitch dark, Winona spent at least an hour staring up at the ceiling. The breathing from her friends' beds evened out, and eventually she knew they were asleep. She stared and she stared, debating with herself.

Her talk with Angelina hadn't been a fight, but somehow it had been even worse. _Heartbroken_, that was what she'd said. Winona may not have been solely responsible, but her part in this was undeniable. She felt like the worst friend in the whole world, hating herself a little more with each minute that ticked away on the old clock in the corner.

Finally, she could take no more. Moving by wand-light, Winona silently gathered the things she needed for the next day, shoved them into her bag, then padded on bare feet to the door. None of her roommates stirred, and she slipped out into the hall with barely a whisper of sound.

The common room was almost completely empty – except for a small cluster of overexcited first years by the fire and Harry and Ron sat in the corner playing a quiet game of chess.

As if sensing her presence, Harry looked up when she appeared in the gap between staircases. Their eyes met, and she knew he knew what she was doing. It was unmistakable – her in her ratty pyjamas, barefoot and holding provisions for the day ahead. She felt like she might as well have been caught by a great, blinding spotlight.

Ron's back was to her, and he seemed to be thinking deeply about his next move. He didn't even notice Harry's distraction.

Winona locked eyes with her cousin, guilty and caught in the act. She wasn't sure what she was expecting – maybe exasperation, or a look of disapproval? – but instead Harry's lips quirked up at the corners and he took one moment to smile at her before turning deliberately back to his game.

It was as much of an approval as any words could be, and Winona breathed a silent sigh of relief. She padded quickly up the boys' stairs, and didn't bother knocking on the door to her friends' room before opening it with a creak and slipping inside.

They weren't all asleep, like she'd hoped. Instead Fred and George were sat on Fred's bed, dressed in their pyjamas and talking in low tones by the firelight. Lee was in the doorway to the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. They'd been talking, but stopped abruptly at the sight of her.

_Great_, she thought grimly, _twice in one night._

She almost turned on her heel and swept from the room again, but the sight of Fred's happy grin stopped her. She was helpless but to grin back.

"_Oh Godric_," Lee muttered around his mouthful of toothpaste. He turned back to the bathroom with a roll of his eyes. George said something under his breath to Fred that Winona didn't catch, then clapped his twin on the back before hopping up from Fred's bed.

"You know you're not _technically_ allowed up here," George said teasingly as he made his way back towards his own bed.

"Hasn't stopped me before," she shrugged. She hoped they weren't going to make a big deal out of this – and luckily, instead of asking questions or making any other clever comment, George simply turned back to his trunk and began rifling around inside for something. As though this were something that happened every other day (and it was, but context was everything; and context had recently _changed_).

"Hey," said Fred, still grinning at her.

"Hey," she replied, a tiny bit meek.

"Just couldn't stay away, eh?" he asked, mischief glinting in his cornflower eyes.

Winona smiled, but even she could tell the expression was off by a few degrees. "Something like that," she said ambiguously. Concern appeared in Fred's eyes, but she waved it away, setting her bulging bag down by the foot of his bed.

She crawled her way up the mattress to Fred's side, then collapsed into the pillows next to him with a sigh of relief. Yes, this was much better.

His large, calloused hand pressed against the small of her back, softly brushing the sliver of skin exposed by her pyjamas. Her first instinct was to tense up, but she just as quickly relaxed. Fred didn't seem to mind, running his hand up the length of her spine again, then brushing away some of the blonde hair from her face.

There was nothing sexual about the touch; it just felt comforting.

Winona let out another sigh of relief, gripping his pillow tight to her face and letting her eyes slide shut. Fred kept his hand on her back, fingers trailing slowly up and down her spine.

"Am I gonna have to make a no-shagging-while-we're-around rule?" Lee asked obnoxiously from his bed. "I'd thought it was pretty obvious, but I could write it out on some parchment and pin it to the wall, if you'd like."

"Fuck off," said Winona without so much as opening her eyes.

"It's been a long day," said Fred without moving his hand from her back. "We're just gonna sleep, Lee."

Lee made an unconvinced humming noise. "Well, we're at least gonna have to come up with some kind of system. Tie on the door handle, maybe? It's a classic for a reason."

"Lee," said Fred, a rare sternness in his voice. Winona couldn't see his face, but she imagined it was rather terrifying, because Lee immediately backed down.

"Sleep well, Winnie," he said, sounding apologetic. It wasn't his fault – until recently the dial was always set to _playful._ But things were getting serious, both in their lives and in the world at large. Winona couldn't blame him for getting his signals crossed.

Winona lifted a hand in a weak wave, but then the sound of Fred's curtains being drawn reached her, then with a muttered spell they were in a little bubble all of their own. The curtains, flimsy though they may have been, felt like a barrier against all the hardships in the world.

Together, in this bed, they were safe. They would always be safe.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Fred was watching her, brow pulled into a worried frown. "Are you okay?" he asked her gently, knowing anything louder would destroy their quiet peace. She relaxed a little bit more. "Did things go okay in the dorm?"

"It could've gone better," she whispered, even though she knew neither of the other boys in the dorm would overhear, no matter if she shouted. Fred's brow furrowed with concern. "But it also could have gone much, much worse."

"But you didn't want to stay?"

She shrugged, a little bit helpless. "I wanted to see you," she confessed in a whisper, like it were a secret they shared. Burrowing her face in his pillow before she could see his reaction, she felt stupidly shy.

For a moment Fred didn't answer, then the hand stroking along her spine moved to her hip, his arm curling around her, and he pulled himself into her side. He was so warm against her, and again that feeling of inexplicable safety wrapped around her.

"Get some sleep," Fred murmured against her ear. "You need it."

Winona turned on her side, facing away from Fred, and hooked his arm around her middle. He wrapped around her like a puzzle piece slotting into place. He was so much bigger than she was, tall and lanky while she was short and supple, but they fit perfectly. She'd never _cuddled_ with anyone before – Jeremiah hadn't been the type to linger – and it made her heart feel almost painfully full.

She hadn't known what she'd been missing out on, but with Fred wrapped around her like this, she felt safe and loved, completely and totally at peace. And if she'd thought his kisses were addictive, then just being held like this was on par with heroin. She melted against him like butter.

And before she knew it, she was asleep.

* * *

She woke up with Fred still wrapped around her, like he hadn't moved so much as an inch in the night. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she trailed her fingertips over the arm hooked around her waist.

"Hm?" he hummed sleepily.

"We should get up," she whispered.

The Silencing Charm had worn off in the night, and she could hear one of the boys in the shower and the other rifling through his trunk.

"Don't wanna," Fred murmured, arm tightening around her, pulling her firmly against his broad, Beater's chest.

"Me either," she agreed, feeling it in her bones. "But we should."

"Says who?"

"Says my stomach."

As if listening, her stomach gave an impatient rumble. Fred's arm tightened around her, then with a tired sigh he pulled away and sat up. Winona felt cold without him wrapped around her, but she knew they had to get up. As much as she'd have loved to stay in bed with him all day, the world was still turning outside these curtains. They had to face it eventually.

"Morning, you two," said George once Fred had opened his curtains. He was crouched by his trunk, searching in the mess for his scarf. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," said Fred warmly. He glanced over at her, a glint in his eye that made her heart skip a beat. "We did."

Once Lee was out of the bathroom, Winona slipped inside and dressed for the day. It was Sunday, so they had no classes, and she was grateful for it. Reappearing in jeans and an old jumper, she brushed out her hair and then headed down to the Great Hall with the boys for breakfast.

Angelina was sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, and Winona could take a hint. Alicia, Katie and Hope were sat with her, talking in low tones over their porridge. Alicia looked up, catching Winona's eye.

"Sorry," she mouthed with a nod at Angelina. Winona waved her away with a small, understanding smile. Alicia wasn't choosing sides – not that there _were_ any to choose – but Angelina needed someone right now, and that someone couldn't possibly be Winona.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sat on the other end, talking in low tones. Winona cast Fred a look, and he nodded in agreement. With a grateful smile she made her way to her cousin, taking a seat on his right. "Hey Boy-Wonder," she greeted him, already beginning to pull pancakes onto her plate.

"Morning Winnie," said Harry, and when she glanced up at him his eyes danced with amusement. "Sleep well?"

His teasing made her roll her eyes, but she didn't blush. "I did, thank you," she said tartly, drizzling her pancakes with syrup. Harry hid his smirk in a goblet of pumpkin juice.

A small group of third year Hufflepuffs meandered by, eyeing Hermione and tittering under their breath. "Can I help you?" Hermione snapped at them, and their eyes went wide, scurrying away like they were afraid she might curse them in retaliation.

"What's that about?" Winona wondered, already shovelling pancakes into her mouth.

"The whole school thinks it's _hilarious_ that I'm the thing Viktor would miss most," Hermione spat, cutting at her crepes violently, like they had somehow wronged her. Ron's expression soured but he wisely said nothing. "You'd think they'd find something better to gossip about."

"That sucks," said Winona around a mouthful of strawberries.

Hermione's eyes flashed. "It's not just me," she snapped as if Winona were teasing her, too. "The whole school thinks you're dating Harry in secret."

Winona's fork froze halfway to her mouth. She glanced at Harry, whose cheeks had gone flaming pink. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you're who he'd miss most," explained Ron.

"Because we're _cousins_," she seethed.

"Yeah, but the rest of the school doesn't know that, do they?" he said, glancing at a cluster of first years nearby. They were eyeing them curiously, and Winona had to hold back a lethal glare in response.

She wasn't sure how she'd missed something so big, but it occurred to her that she'd been in somewhat of a bubble with Fred over the last twenty-four hours. It shouldn't have surprised her that she'd missed out on the newest piece of gossip circling the halls.

She turned her head up to look at Fred, and judging by his amusement, he seemed to have heard the same rumour. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced up at her, laughter in his eyes. She shot him a glare and he winked, no doubt finding the whole thing to be bloody hilarious. Prick.

"Mail's here," said Harry, seeming glad to have a distraction.

The owl circled overhead, and Winona blinked as one of them landed before her, a small piece of rolled up parchment tied to its leg. She carefully untied it, then fed the owl a piece of toast before it took off again, soaring away, probably glad to have a rest.

_Winona,_

_Go with Harry to the end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. I'll meet you there. I'm very much looking forward to seeing you again._

It was simple, written in Sirius' loopy scrawl, and Winona stared down at it for a lot longer than it took to read. She hadn't seen him – not in person – since that night at the end of last year. Part of her was excited, while another, larger part, was simply terrified.

"You got one too?" Harry asked, and Winona looked up from the note to see him holding a very similar one.

Hermione and Ron leaned over the table, asking what they were. Harry handed his over for them to read, while Winona just folded hers and shoved it deep in her pocket.

"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" Ron hissed incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Hermione sighed, looking worried.

"I can't believe him," said Harry tensely, "if he's caught…"

"Made it so far, though, hasn't he?" argued Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore."

"He has a point," Winona agreed. "Sirius has spent over a year on the run. I think he knows how to keep himself safe by this point."

"Why don't you call him 'dad'?" asked Ron around a mouthful of toast. "S'bit weird, calling him by his first name."

Winona didn't bother responding. She turned to Harry, whose eyes looked haunted. "He's going to be okay," she said quietly. "And we're finally going to get to see him – and not just through the Floo."

A tiny smile flickered on Harry's face, and she knew she'd won. Harry looked at peace, going about the rest of his meal as Ron chattered some more about his time in the lake to anyone who'd listen.

Winona ate in silence, trying not to think too hard about what it was going to be like to face Sirius again, and what exactly she was going to say when she did.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed. If anybody's interested, I've just begun a new project that I've been working up to over the last few months – I've started a booktube/bookstagram channel. I won't be talking heaps about fanfiction on there, instead mostly focusing on published books and my reviews of them/reading vlogs/recommendations. **

**If that's something that interests you, and if you wanna get to know me, the author, then you can follow me on instagram at _arrianereads_ – or on youtube under the same name. I haven't begun posting videos yet, but content's coming real soon, and I'm beginning to post on instagram. It would mean the world to see some of you guys following me over there, but if you're not into booktube, that's okay, I understand, and I look forwards to entertaining you with even more fanfiction in the future!**

**This week's spotlight review goes to: _Avalongirl55_ – thanks for your review! So far I'm healthy and safe where I am, and I'm sorry to hear you've been on lockdown. Things are looking to get that way in Australia very soon – which I suppose will be a good thing for you guys, because it means I'll get more writing done! Hope this chapter was everything you wanted it to be, and thanks for the support! :) **


	42. When you're pardoned

The next week passed in a haze of mixed anxiety and happiness.

Things were still tense between her and Angelina, but they were at least on speaking terms. Angelina didn't avoid her, and Winona even became comfortable enough to sleep in the dorm again. Twice during the week she'd snuck up to Fred's dorm, sliding into bed with him. They'd fall asleep curled around one another like pretzels.

It was hard to find time to be together. Between classes and homework, and finding opportunity to sneak away without being seen, they mostly just spent time together in a group with everyone else. To most of the school, things seemed as they always were. But Winona had to wonder if anybody noticed the fleeting touches and tender glances they exchanged when they thought nobody else was looking.

She hoped they didn't, but they probably weren't being as subtle as they could have been.

The gossip mill in the school was working overtime, spreading rumours of some kind of strange love-square between Winona, Harry, Hermione and Krum. It was strange – and just wrong on a fundamental level when you knew the truth of Harry and Winona's connection. But she'd never put much stock in gossip, and was able to ignore it all with ease.

The day came that she was supposed to meet Sirius in Hogsmeade, and Winona woke up a bundle of nerves. "It's just a Hogsmeade day," said Hope when she caught Winona obsessively fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror. "Why're you trying to look all special?"

"Meeting someone?" asked Alicia, half-teasing, half-serious. Winona chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.

"In a manner of speaking," she said evasively, because she didn't want to lie. Besides, that would explain why she was acting so weird.

It wasn't that she thought she had to look perfect, but something in her gut was urging her to make an effort. Last time she and Sirius had seen one another, it had been gloomy and dark and they'd both hardly been ready to meet their only family for the first time in twelve years. He'd been on the run for the better part of a year, so she didn't expect him to look at his best, but as for her, she wanted to make a good impression.

It felt rather like she were meeting a date – only the date was meeting her father for (essentially) the first time, and the reasons she was nervous were far more complicated than any of them could possibly guess.

"Who is it?" Alicia demanded. Angelina looked up from the book she was reading in bed, and Winona struggled to keep her face free of guilt. It wasn't Fred she had plans with, but that didn't matter considering they were together…behind Angelina's back. Part of her wanted to come clean, but the coward in her whispered that she could put it off awhile longer; what was the harm?

"Nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just a friend."

"A friend, or a _friend_?" Alicia asked keenly.

Winona didn't bother to respond to that. "I'd better get going," she said. "The twins wanna go to Zonko's before it gets too crowded."

Angelina tucked her face back into her book, and Hope rolled her eyes. Alicia sighed, clearly disappointed she wasn't going to be getting any dirty, sordid details. But if she was waiting for that, she'd be waiting an awfully long time.

"I'll see you guys tonight," she said as she made her way to the door.

"You don't wanna meet for a butterbeer later?" Alicia called after her.

Winona hesitated. "I don't know if I'll have time."

Alicia wagged her carefully plucked eyebrows. "You mean if your date goes well?"

"Something like that."

She managed to escape without any more of the third degree. The twins and Lee were waiting by the fire, and she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of them, because with the three of them she didn't have to lie about her and Fred. With them, she could be honest. Not to mention Fred was there, and she was always happier when she was with him.

"Ready to go?" she asked, and George jumped in surprise, not having heard her approach.

"We've been ready twenty minutes," grumbled Lee even as they began to make their way towards the portrait hole. She fell naturally into step beside Fred, and her fingers tingled with the need to grab his hand as they walked, but there were rules. Rules _she_ had put in place. No matter how torturous it was, she had to stick to them. "What kept you?"

"You think this happens in under a half hour?" she shot back, climbing through the portrait hole and letting Lee and George lead the way down the hall and towards the school's entrance, from which they would make their way down towards Hogsmeade. "It takes _time_ to look this pretty, y'know?"

"Hm, I'd noticed you looked extra lovely today," said Lee dryly. "What's the occasion?"

"It's you, Lee," she replied, deadpan. "I'm trying to woo you. Is it working?"

Lee shot a nervous glance at Fred and held up his hands as if in surrender. "Hey," he said reproachfully, "I know your love for me burns deep and true, but I'd hate to step on Freddie's toes."

Winona rolled her eyes, exchanging a grin with George, then glanced to Fred. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, as if not knowing what else to do with them. He looked perfectly normal, expression calm and a little bit mischievous, like even now he were looking for ways to inflict mayhem upon the student body, but she could see a tightness in his eyes that few others could.

He felt her searching stare on the side of his face and turned to look. Their eyes locked and electricity crackled between them, along with a thousand words they couldn't say surrounded by the rest of the school meandering down to Hogsmeade with them.

Unable to handle it any longer, she looked away, taking a page from his book and stuffing her hands deep into the pockets of her cardigan, hands balled into tight fists of frustration.

George started to lament the Potions homework Snape had piled him under, and Lee joined in, complaining about McGonagall's choice in essay topics. Winona and Fred were silent from behind them, casting one another looks from the corner of their eyes and trying their best to act natural.

"So, Zonko's?" George asked loudly as they entered the small village and began to make their way through the slushy street towards the joke shop. The crowd surrounding them had begun to thin out, people ducking into the shops lining the street, glad to be out of the cold.

"Sounds good, mate," said Lee, making up for Winona and Fred's tension-filled silence.

"I'll meet up with you there," Fred said abruptly, and Winona turned to look at him in surprise. He was staring straight at her, and she warmed under his glittering, cornflower eyes.

"Yeah, me too," she heard herself say.

"Bloody hell," muttered Lee to George in an undertone he fully meant for them to hear. "It's going to be bloody insufferable, isn't it?"

George snorted. "Like it hasn't been already?"

Winona kicked him none-too-gently in the shin, and he quickly got out of there, hurrying off with Lee, muttering about needing to get them girlfriends of their own. Winona turned to face Fred, leaning her weight back against the building behind her.

Fred wasn't looking back at her. Instead he was scanning the street, searching for something. She knew he'd found it when his eyes lit up and he stood a little straighter.

"This way," he said, hands still stuffed into his pockets, utterly nonchalant.

"Oh?" she asked, voice ringing with playful innocence.

"Yeah," he said casually. "I wanna show you something."

She couldn't help the sly smirk that spread across her lips. "Do you, now?"

The tips of his ears went bright red, and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. "Come on," he said, a little bit sharp, and she laughed to herself as she followed him farther down the street until they reached the alley between Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft's. Fred shot a cursory glance at the street, and once he'd decided nobody lingering in the mushy snow was paying either of them any attention, he gripped her arm and yanked her unceremoniously into the alleyway.

It was small, a rather tight squeeze, but Winona didn't mind at all. There was nothing to hide behind, but she doubted anybody was going to peek down the small, shadowed alley. It was probably about as private as they were going to get.

Fred wasted no time in pushing her up against the brick wall and crowding in on her until she could feel him pressed up against her, almost head-to-toe. She thought he was going to kiss her – well, _hoped_ was really a better word – but instead he just stayed pressed against her, one hand held to the small of her back, keeping her flush against him, the other gripping the wall above her head as if using it to steady himself.

Winona shut her eyes and just soaked up his presence, gripping the collar of his shirt in her hands to hold him to her – as if he had any intentions of moving away. She breathed in his scent, letting it calm and soothe and excite her in the same instant.

"Hey," he finally said, voice so uncharacteristically small.

Winona smiled but didn't open her eyes. "Hey," she whispered back, inching ever closer, like they were magnets that couldn't help but be pulled together.

"I missed you," he told her, whispering it like a confession. Winona's heart began doing gymnastics in her chest.

"You see me all the time," she reminded him with a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she found him with his shut, head bent towards hers, soaking her up like the sun.

"Not like this," he said, a simple truth. She moved her right hand from his collar to his face, running her fingertips tenderly along the line of his jaw, and his deep blue eyes opened, long, pale lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

"I missed you too," she told him, a confession of her own. Fred smiled, the sight of it taking her breath away, and finally, as if he could take no more, he swooped down and pressed his lips to hers.

The relief was sharp and potent in her veins, and she sighed into his mouth. Fred pushed her up against the side of the alley once again, hand caught between her spine and the wall, but he didn't seem to care.

He kissed her like it had been weeks since he'd had the chance, rather than barely a few days. But Winona certainly wasn't complaining. He was so passionate – more passionate than she'd expected him to be.

She'd thought she knew him – every facet of his being. But now she was experiencing a new facet; the part of him he didn't show anyone but his girlfriend – but to _her._ He was so passionate, kissing her like a man starved all his life of touch. Kissing her like she were a roast and he were hungry for more. Kissing her like he wanted to tell her something there just weren't words for in any language on Earth.

She felt like she almost couldn't keep up. But she certainly did her best to try.

She met every pull of his lips, every subtle stroke of his tongue. She wound her hands into his hair and tugged. He made a noise that she swallowed, and he used the hand on her spine to tug her against him. He brushed against her and her breath hitched.

With her toes beginning to ache from the way she was standing on them to reach his mouth, Winona very reluctantly pulled away, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"We shouldn't be doing this here," she whispered, knowing her voice would waver if she tried to speak.

"You're right," he agreed, voice so husky that it sent a thrill through her body, zinging down her nerves until it reached her core, making her throb with longing. "We shouldn't."

Then he swooped back in and kissed her again, and Winona laughed breathlessly against him.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, pressed against the wall, snogging the daylights out of each other. She just lost herself in the feel of him. Every now and then he'd pull away for air, then chuckle when she desperately chased his lips.

She hadn't been lying, before. She'd missed him. When they were in public it felt like there were so many barriers between them that they couldn't even be the friends they'd always been. The tension was too much. The urge to _be_ and to _touch_ was too absolute.

Was she making a mistake, wanting to keep this a secret? Was it doing more harm than good?

"Uh, Winnie?"

The pair were pulled from their all-encompassing stupor by the sound of Harry's unsure voice. Winona – who by this point was being entirely held up by Fred, legs wrapped securely around his waist – shot an alarmed glance over her boyfriend's shoulder.

Harry was stood in the mouth of the alley, Hermione and Ron standing beyond, all three looking about as comfortable as a group of kids wrapped in Devil's Snare. "Harry," she said, surprised. Fred cleared his throat and gently lowered her back to her feet, stepping away to give them both some room to breathe. "Hi," she continued, a little bit awkward.

"Um, it's time to go," her cousin said, cheeks bright pink from what he'd just witnessed. "We should leave now if we want to be on time."

"Right," she murmured, having completely forgotten what her plans for the afternoon even were. Fred was very good at making her forget the world even existed. "I'll be right out."

Looking relieved to give them some space, Harry stepped back out into the street and murmured something to a red-faced Ron and a scandalised Hermione.

Winona sighed, tipping her head forwards until her forehead was pressed to Fred's collarbone, hands splayed against his chest. His heart thundered beneath his sternum just as wildly as hers, and it made her breathless to know she affected him as much as he affected her.

"You don't need to be nervous," Fred murmured, smoothing a hand down the length of her light hair, which she'd spent so much time taming this morning, only to let Fred's hands completely undo all her tedious work.

"Who said I was nervous?" she asked, voice slightly muffled by his chest.

"I know you," he told her simply. She said nothing, trailing her fingertips over his chest, drawing random shapes into the front of his shirt. "It's not like it's the first time you're meeting him," Fred said rationally.

"I know, but…" she trailed off, not having a good reply.

"It feels like it is," he finished for her, seeming to know what she wanted to say before she did. "What are you afraid of?" he asked softly, pressing just a little bit, knowing she needed the push to be honest.

"What – what if he doesn't…?" she trailed off again, struggling to find the words.

"Like you?" he finished again, seeming to know her very heart. How did he do that? She met his eyes and knew he saw vulnerability in her own. "Win," he said, reproachful and warm. "He's going to love you. Trust me; it's impossible not to."

She wasn't sure that was true – plenty of people didn't like her, let alone _love_ her – but she appreciated his attempt to cheer her up. "What if it's awkward?" she wondered.

"Just be yourself."

"That's a cliché," she mumbled.

"Yeah, for a reason," he shot back. Winona rolled her eyes, picking at imaginary lint on his jacket. "Win," he said, a tiny bit exasperated. "It's going to be fine. If all else fails; talk about me." She look up at him again, confused. "Y'know, because I'm so talented and special and good looking. It'll be impossible not to gush about me."

The look she sent him was amused. "You want me to tell my father – a man who's on the run for a murder he didn't commit, but absolutely wanted to – all about my new boyfriend?" she asked around a smirk. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Fred went pale. "On second thought, better keep me out of it," he murmured.

"Winnie," said Harry from the mouth of the alley, exasperated.

Winona rolled her eyes. "I'd better go," she said, reluctant. Fred's eyes sparkled with warmth and his lips were red and slightly swollen from the fervour with which she'd kissed him. It made leaving a thousand times more difficult. "Wish me luck?"

"Nah," he said confidently, hands settled firmly on her hips, fingertips brushing the sliver of skin exposed by her shirt. "You don't need luck. You've got this."

She smiled, taking an extra moment to pull him closer, his scent swimming around her. She didn't want to leave. Things with Sirius were uncomfortable, uncertain. But being with Fred was never anxiety-inducing. It was just easy. She didn't want to leave him and the way he made her feel.

She pushed up onto her toes once more, pressing a gentle, tender kiss to his lips, one hand holding his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

"_Really_, how long can they go at it?" Ron's hissed voice demanded from the mouth of the alley, and Winona knew she could stall no longer.

With great reluctance in her heart, she pulled away from Fred and shot him a shaky smile. "I'll see you later," she promised him.

"Later," he agreed, voice still holding that husky edge that made her body tingle with awareness.

And so she forced herself to walk away, stepping from the alley and out into the light of day. Harry and his friends were eyeing her with warring amusement and disgust, and she ruffled Harry's wild hair affectionately. "You'll understand one day, kiddos," she told them, turning on her heel and leading the way through the village to where they were set to meet Sirius.

"I'm not sure I _want_ to understand," muttered Ron.

Winona rolled her eyes and just led on, hooking an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Did I totally gross you out?" she wondered.

"It's like you're attached at the mouths," Harry grumbled. Winona tried not to snicker with amusement.

"I didn't realise the two of you were together now, Winona," said Hermione carefully.

"Er, it's not something we're really…advertising yet," she confessed. "So if you guys could maybe-"

"We won't tell anyone," Hermione assured her before she could grow nervous. "But for what it's worth, I'm really happy for you."

Winona grinned. "Thanks, 'Mione."

As they were just about to turn the corner that led to their destination, Winona glanced back over her shoulder at where she'd left Fred. He was leaning in the mouth of the alleyway, slouched casually against the wall, looking delicious as sin and watching her leave. She cast him an affectionate smile that he returned, but then Harry was gripping her wrist and pulling her impatiently after him.

They all walked in comfortable silence to the end of the lane, and Winona's heart skipped a beat when her eyes fell to a large, shaggy black dog stood with its paws up on the stile. Winona had never seen Sirius in his Animagus form before, but she still recognised him instantly. His black, canine eyes seemed fixed entirely on her.

"Hello, Sirius," said Harry, a smile on his face. Winona lifted a hand, waving at the dog awkwardly.

Sirius made a yapping sound around the mouthful of newspapers he was carrying, sniffing at Harry's bulging bag before trotting off into the distance. Clearly, they were meant to follow.

Although it were March, the sun was still bearing down on them like it hadn't gotten the memo. The climb to Sirius' hiding spot was arduous, up a steep incline of sharp and dangerous rocks. But finally, after an exhausting half hour, they arrived at a small break in the rocks to reveal a cave. Sirius trotted inside, hardly out of breath, while the four students dragged themselves in after them, panting like they'd run a marathon.

Buckbeak was in the far corner, tethered to a large rock, and while Harry, Hermione and Ron all bowed to the great beast, Winona was more focused on her father, now in human form, stood looking rather nervous at the sight of them.

He was very thin – really little more than skin and bones, at this point – and his dark hair was long and matted. He was dressed in the same prison robes as last time she'd seen him. Winona stared at him, and he stared back. All that madness from her visions was gone, and some of the grief too. In its place stood peace, and maybe a tiny bit of happiness.

"Chicken!" he cried, voice hoarse, and whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it wasn't that.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread he'd haphazardly stuffed inside.

"Thanks," said Sirius gratefully, already devouring the small meal like he hadn't eaten properly in a month. By the looks of him, Winona would say that seemed about right. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grinned up at Harry and Winona, both of whom returned the expression warily.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked, unmistakable disapproval in his tone. Sirius either didn't hear it, or didn't care.

"Fulfilling my duty as a father – and godfather," said Sirius honestly. Winona's heart skipped another beat and she had to look away to keep her eyes from stinging. "Don't worry about it," he said, seeming to get the wrong idea about why she was upset, "I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

When neither Harry nor Winona grinned back, the levity faded a little, replaced by more serious tones.

"I want to be on the spot," he confessed. "Your last letter … well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

Sirius nodded to the yellowing Daily Prophets he'd dropped on the cave floor. Ron picked them up and unfolded them, but Winona and Harry could only continue to stare at Sirius. Part of Winona thought that if she stopped watching him, he might blow away like smoke. Even as this was, it barely felt real. Like a dream – although whether it was a good one or a bad one was still to be determined.

"What if they catch you?" Harry demanded. "What if you're seen?"

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius like it were really that simple. He kept gnawing at the chicken bone, rather doglike in his eating habits.

"Well, and the twins," said Hermione, and Winona's eyes cut to hers, irritation in their depths. Hermione's cheeks went pink at the realisation that she'd said something she shouldn't have.

Sirius finally stopped devouring the food they'd brought, lowering the chicken bone into his lap, eyes flickering between them all unsurely. "Who are the twins?" he demanded, confused and a little bit cautious.

"Fred and George – my older brothers," said Ron when it became clear Winona didn't want to answer the question. "They're Winnie's best mates – so, anything she knows, they know."

Sirius still looked wary, eyes cutting to Winona. "Are they trustworthy?"

Winona's mouth seemed to have gone dry, making speaking a challenge. Ron answered for her again. "Judging by the way Fred just had his tongue halfway down Winnie's throat, I'd say he wouldn't risk anything that would hurt her," said Ron, who probably didn't think of the words 'trustworthy' and 'Fred and George' as particularly synonymous.

Winona slapped Ron sharply upside the head, and he cried out in surprise, holding a hand to his ringing skull.

Sirius' eyes had narrowed, eyeing Winona with a new consideration. She thought it must be strange for him. Last time she'd seen him – their meeting in the courtyard last year and their recent exchange in the Floo notwithstanding – she'd only been a toddler. And now she was a grown adult, just days away from being seventeen, kissing boys he knew nothing about.

But he didn't get to have an opinion. It wasn't his fault he hadn't been around all this time, but the fact of the matter remained. He might have been her father by blood, but he hadn't raised her. He had no say in what went on in her life.

Hermione hissed at Ron in disapproval, and the tips of his ears went bright red. Sirius was still staring at Winona, a thousand questions burning in his eyes. "He's my boyfriend," she explained, a little stilted.

Sirius still looked wary. "And these _twins_," he said it like it were a foreign word on his tongue, "they won't say anything?"

"Never," she swore, because she knew it in her bones. She trusted the twins more than anybody – and that was saying something.

Sirius was still staring at her, and while Winona could hazard a guess at what was going through his mind, the truth was that she actually had no idea. She stared back at him, trying to see herself in his face. But he was so malnourished and gaunt, he looked more similar to a corpse than to any living person.

Ron handed Harry the newspapers he'd swiped from the cave floor, and her cousin began to scan them with interest. Winona couldn't have cared less. This was her _father_, right here, standing in front of her. And she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry from beside her, and Winona looked away from Sirius to glance at the article he was reading. Something about Crouch still being missing – which she supposed was a bad thing, but she hardly missed the bloke. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

"My brother is Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius, whose eyebrows climbed his waxen forehead in surprise.

"He says Crouch is suffering from overwork. Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry, eyes still on the story in the _Prophet_. "The night my name came out of the goblet."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" sniped Hermione. She was stroking a hand down Buckbeak's coat, the beast crunching up the bones of Sirius' devoured meal. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. But it fell on deaf ears. Sirius was just interested in the facts of the story.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" he asked keenly.

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry, and he launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a few long minutes of quiet, brandishing a fresh chicken leg like a wand. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," said Harry, Ron, and Hermione together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm…" Harry's expression pinched as he thought about it. "No," he finally murmured. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," was all Sirius said.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione trilled, defiance in her eyes.

"You're giving this elf a lot of credit," said Winona, a steady voice of reason. "Just because it looks cute, doesn't mean it can't be evil. Did Cujo teach you nothing?"

Ron's expression shuttered. "Who in Merlin's name is Cujo?" he demanded.

Hermione waved him away. "Never mind."

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," interjected Sirius, continuing to pace the whole length of the small cave, fingers white-knuckled around his chicken leg. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers…Cornelius Fudge…the Notts…the Malfoys…"

"The Malfoys!" cried Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Do you have any proof?" Winona asked dryly.

Ron faltered. "Well, no," he said uncomfortably, "but look at the guy! He's a creep!"

"Ah yes," she replied in a deadpan. "That argument will hold up well in court."

Ron pulled a face at her, and she made one back. Sirius interrupted before the conversation could devolve any further. "Anyone else?" he asked keenly.

Harry shook his head. "No one."

"Yes, there was," Hermione reminded him, "there was Ludo Bagman."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. Winona wondered if he'd done a lot of that in Azkaban. Had he paced like this, counting the days with his steps, doing his best to keep from going mad? "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry cautiously. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, his frown deepening. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

They continued to talk, going over the facts again and again, trying to wrench some sense from them. Sirius paced and he paced, all but wearing a hole in the floor. Winona took a seat at the ashes of the campfire Sirius had made. They were still a little bit warm, and she held her hands over the echo of their heat, listening to the group around her distantly.

"D'you know Crouch, then?" asked Harry suddenly, and Winona looked up from the embers of the dead fire, curiosity in her eyes.

Like a cloud had floated over the cave, darkness appeared in Sirius' eyes. It glinted and twisted like onyx, and Winona found herself just a tiny bit afraid.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly, a deep hatred in his voice. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial."

The cloud around him grew darker, nearly matching the storminess of his eyes. "You're kidding!" exclaimed Harry.

Despite the darkness, Sirius managed a casual shrug. "I'm not," he said around another mouthful of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know? He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on their faces. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side…well, you wouldn't understand…you're too young."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, annoyed that they kept being told that. Winona had to agree; it was condescending. "Try us, why don't you?"

Sirius grinned, and Winona thought he might have been rather handsome; perhaps in another life. He began to tell the tale of the first Wizarding war. How Crouch had spearheaded the movement against the Death Eaters, and how he seemed at the height of power until his own son was caught working for the dark side.

"Crouch's _son_ was caught?" gasped Hermione. Winona was similarly surprised.

"Yep," said Sirius, throwing the chicken bone to Buckbeak and beginning to work on the bread they'd brought. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while, gotten to know his own son…" he trailed off, suddenly realising the power of his words.

His eyes slid over to Winona, pain in their stormy depths, and she met his stare, brow pinched. Something passed between them – an understanding of sorts, although Winona couldn't have put it into words if she'd had a hundred years to try.

Sirius turned to the bread and began to break off large chunks, shoving them into his mouth and barely chewing before he swallowed. "_Was_ his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked him curiously.

"No idea," said Sirius, still stuffing bread into his face, seeming relieved for the distraction. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again – doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy…then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"His own son," said Winona without thinking. Sirius' eyes snapped to her, but her own were faraway. "He just handed him over; as if it were a sacrifice worth making." Sirius grimaced like her words caused him pain, but she barely noticed. "I don't know how he could be so cruel."

"I saw the dementors bringing him in," Sirius confessed, eyes just as distant as hers, "watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though…they all went quiet in the end…except when they shrieked in their sleep…"

That same darkness draped over Sirius like a cloak, and Winona felt her eyes sting. She looked away, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring out the crack in the mountain that served as the entrance to this tiny shelter. Sunlight streamed in through the slit, but it didn't seem beautiful now. It just seemed another harsh thing in an even harsher world.

"So, he's still in Azkaban?" Harry wondered, voice quiet and subdued.

"No," said Sirius dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

The four of them went deathly quiet, the silence ringing like a gunshot. "He _died_?" Hermione asked sharply.

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius, understandably bitter. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

It was so grim, Winona felt like her stomach were full of rocks. She hugged her knees tighter, wishing Fred were there with her to hold her hand and make a stupid joke to break the tension. It was impossible for things to stay gloomy long around him, and she suddenly needed his levity like air.

Sirius picked up the flask of pumpkin juice Harry had brought and drained it in two large gulps.

"So, old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic … next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and – so I've heard since I escaped – a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Winona tried not to think about the last twelve years, her going about her life without knowing Sirius – her father – was alive, wasting away in the most horrendous hell the world could create. Would it have changed anything, she wondered? Would it have made a difference?

She'd have still been in foster homes so terrible she was permanently purple and green, and she'd still have lost everything. But _knowing_, maybe it would have given her some degree of hope. Or maybe it would have made everything just that much harder.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius, breaking Winona from her stupor.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius confirmed. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron with a victorious glance at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," Sirius agreed.

"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," snapped Ron. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him-"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno – maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out-"

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, and Ron and Hermione stopped bickering to listen.

"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added. Harry and Ron grinned at each other, but Winona grimaced. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius, looking bewildered, but Winona thought to herself that it seemed like he knew more than he was saying. He shrugged, and Winona narrowed her eyes at him, considering. "Well, I've no idea what that's about … but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers… There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron countered stubbornly.

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though … he's a different matter … is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not … what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius fell silent, eyes faraway, like in his head he were in a different place altogether. Winona watched him, curious. Was that what she looked like when she had a vision? Did she get that same vacancy in her eyes? Were they more similar than they were different?

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant?" Sirius asked suddenly, a spark of life returning to his eyes. "Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron, a little reluctant. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius added.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic … maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long. …"

Sirius sighed, and Winona thought he looked exhausted. She wondered when he'd last gotten a half good rest.

"What's the time?" he wondered quietly, rubbing at his hooded eyes.

"It's half past three," said Hermione.

"You'd better get back to school," he said, climbing back up to his feet. "Now listen," he said to Harry, eyes hard, "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far," said Harry casually, "except a dragon and a couple of grindylows."

"I don't care," Sirius said, voice hard. "I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

Harry and his friends nodded obediently, but then Sirius' eyes turned to Winona. He stared at her a moment, eyes heavy and full of a million things he didn't know how to say.

"Why don't we step outside for a minute?" Hermione suggested kindly. "Give the two of you some time to talk?"

Winona almost wanted to say no – she didn't want to be left alone with Sirius. Didn't want to give things the opportunity to get awkward. But she knew it was the right thing to do – there was only so much they could say with Harry and his friends around. As uncomfortable as it might prove to be, they needed a moment alone.

"Wait for me," Sirius said, finally tearing his eyes from his daughter to shoot Hermione a grateful smile. "I'll walk back down to the village with you in a minute."

Agreeing, Ron and Hermione made their way to the mouth of the cave, while Harry hesitated. He wasn't looking at Sirius, but rather Winona, as if he knew how difficult this was going to be for her.

"I'm okay, Harry," she assured him. "We'll meet you out there in a moment."

Relenting, Harry followed Ron and Hermione out of the cave, stepping out into the bright sunshine to give the estranged father and daughter a moment alone.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, Winona turned to Sirius. He was watching her, concern and curiosity burning in his eyes, and Winona wondered what he wanted to know. Everything, probably. She had questions too, but they were hardly organised in her mind. It occurred to her that she probably should have planned something to say before now, but she'd never been the type to take preparation seriously.

"How are you?" Sirius asked her. It sounded rather lame for an opening line, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

"I'm good, yeah," Winona told him, just as awkward. "How about you?"

Sirius gave a wry bark of laughter, and with a glance around the cave he was calling home, Winona had to admit he had a point.

"Right," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Of course."

Sirius smiled. "But I'm better than I have been in a long time," he told her, saying it like some kind of confession, "standing here, with you."

Throat tight with emotion, Winona could only stare back at him, wordless. He didn't seem to mind.

"You have a boyfriend?" he asked conversationally.

Still awkward, if not more so now that her love life was the topic of discussion, Winona nodded. "Fred Weasley," she told him. "But we're trying to keep it under wraps, for now, at least."

Sirius frowned. "Why?"

She didn't really feel like explaining the whole Seer/Angelina/personal insecurities thing just yet, so she gave a vague shrug. "It's complicated."

Sirius seemed disappointed that she didn't want to share, but he accepted it, nodding slowly. "Is he nice?" he asked, scraping the barrel for conversation points.

Winona couldn't help but smile. "He's wonderful," she assured him, because it felt like maybe he needed it. "He's my best friend in the world."

Now Sirius' eyes glinted wetly. Horrified, Winona looked away, giving him time to compose himself. To her dismay, he did nothing to smother his emotion. "It boggles me to think you've been living a _life_ … this whole time," he said it like it were some farfetched miracle. Like it were a newly discovered kind of magic. "With school and friends and boyfriends…"

Winona looked up at him again. "Of course I have," she said, maybe just a little bit sharply.

When Sirius smiled, it was sad. "You have to understand, Winona – this whole time,_ twelve years_, I've thought you were dead," he told her, voice rasping from pain and a lack of use. "I _mourned_ for you."

Winona's insides twisted, trying not to think about him wasting away in some cell in the worst prison on earth, mourning over a girl he didn't know still breathed. "I thought you were dead, too," she reminded him, as if it might in any way ease his burden. "You and my mother…as far as I knew, I was alone."

Sirius' expression crumpled, and Winona felt it like a blow. "I can't tell you how sorry I am-"

"I know," she interjected. Because she _did_ know he was sorry – who wouldn't be? – but really, what were apologies worth? "It isn't your fault," she told him, but the words felt empty. Who knew _whose_ fault it was? She barely knew enough of the pieces to put together a coherent timeline for the night her life went to shit. Now that she thought about it, she had a _lot _of questions.

"When all this is over," said Sirius before she could voice any of the questions burning like acid on her tongue, "when the Tournament is finished and I've had my name cleared, I thought I'd buy a cottage. Somewhere far away, where Buckbeak can fly and I can start to rebuild my life. I thought…well, if you and Harry wanted, you could maybe-"

"Come live with you?" she finished, the air sucked from her lungs by something she refused to label as hope.

Sirius suddenly seemed shy. "Well, only if you wanted-"

"I do want," she told him. And it was crazy, because she barely knew the guy – but he was her _father_, and the fact of the matter was that she _wanted _to get to know him. And besides, anything had to be better than where she was now. Not to mention she'd be with Harry. "I mean, I'd like that," she said, sincerity blazing in her eyes. "A lot."

Sirius hesitated. "Even though you'll be seventeen on the third?"

Winona blinked in surprise. "You know my birthday?"

He laughed, the sound now less of a bark and more of a hearty chuckle. "I'd think so," he said. "You hardly forget the day your own daughter was born."

The unexpected word made them both pause. Winona's breath caught. She'd never been anyone's _daughter_ before. To her surprise, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Unsure how to convey that to Sirius, Winona attempted a smile. Sirius smiled back, making his gaunt face look handsome again, and she wondered about her mother, and how they'd fallen in love, and whether it was anything like the deep, simmering feelings she had for Fred.

All these questions and more bubbled at her tongue. She so desperately wanted to ask them, but she didn't know where to start, or even if she should.

A shadow appeared in the entryway. "Winnie?" Hermione called, sounding apologetic. "It's getting close to curfew. If we don't leave soon, we'll all be in trouble."

But Winona desperately wanted more time with Sirius. She briefly considered telling them to go on without her, and that she'd sneak back into school through one of Hogsmeade's secret passageways. But what if someone noticed she was missing, and they sent out a search party? The risk of them finding Sirius was too great, so with a disappointed sigh, she nodded.

"Be right out," she told Hermione dully.

Hermione slipped back out into the waning light, and Winona turned back to Sirius. He looked disappointed, too, and she found a sort of solace in that. "We'll see each other again," he told her, a promise in not so many words.

"Do you really think you can do it?" she wondered, unable to help but ask this one question. "Get your name cleared, I mean."

Sirius smiled, tender. "I found you again, didn't I? Kind of makes you believe anything's possible."

Winona didn't know what to say to something like that. She stared at him, her father, watching the hope and happiness shine in his eyes. They were in a damp cave on the side of a mountain in the middle of winter, he'd only just had his first decent meal in months, and the only other living thing he had for company was a stubborn Hippogriff – and yet somehow the sight of her stood before her brought him relief. Like she was all he needed to be happy.

Nobody had ever made her feel that way before – not even Fred, or Harry. They had other people, family, or enough friends that it felt like one. But she realised now that Sirius didn't have anyone – she and Harry, they were it. His whole world.

It felt like a daunting amount of responsibility, the weight of it sitting uncomfortably on her chest. Something must have shown on her face, because Sirius' expression softened.

He opened his arms, slow and tentative, like he wasn't sure she wouldn't laugh in his face. "Come here?" he whispered hopefully.

Winona wished she could say she didn't hesitate – but the truth was, she did. She didn't know this man. They were bound by blood and not much else. They didn't have a relationship to build from. They had nothing.

But he was still her father, and maybe if she wanted to someday feel like that was true, she had to start, here and now, treating him like it.

She inched towards him, cautiously lifting her arms and wrapping them around his thin shoulders. He was so narrow – little more than skin and bone draped in a tattered old prison uniform. He smelt awful, like sweat and blood and hunger, and underneath all that there was a hint of something that might have been cigarette smoke.

He didn't smell like what she'd imagined dads should smell like – or like Mr Weasley, who was all soap and parsley, comforting and masculine in the way only a dad could be – but part of her kind of liked Sirius' smell. It was real, gritty. It showed how he'd suffered.

But that didn't mean he still couldn't use a good bath.

His frail arms wrapped around her, holding her delicately, like he were thought she might be fragile. It was just another thing that reminded her of how little he knew her.

But she was still hugging him – her own dad, the man she'd thought was dead and gone. He was here, loving her and caring about her and doing the best he could with the shitty cards they'd been dealt. And one day, he even wanted to live with her.

She pulled back after a long minute, horrified to find her eyes stinging with tears.

Sirius smiled, raising his hand to wipe his thumb at the skin under her eye where a tear had escaped without permission. "You remind me of her," he told her quietly, a secret between them. She didn't need to ask who; it was clear he meant her mother.

"Tell me about her, one day?" she asked hopefully.

Sirius smiled, somehow both pained and happy, and cupped her face in his hand. "I'd love nothing more."

Winona swallowed. "When you're pardoned," she said it like a promise, like an absolutely certainty of the world. He _would_ be pardoned, and then they could begin to rebuild what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had so cruelly torn away.

Sirius grinned wider. "When I'm pardoned," he echoed, just as much of a promise.

With great reluctance, Winona left the cave, stepping out into the fading afternoon. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all taken seats on flat rocks to wait for them, but they stood up at the sight of her. She wasn't sure what was showing on her face, but whatever it was, it was enough to make Harry reach for her hand.

Sirius appeared in dog form, trotting his way down the side of the mountain they were perched on. The four of them said nothing, breath clouding from the cold as they trudged their way back through the snow towards the village. The sun was beginning to set, and they knew they had to get back to the school quickly, lest they arise any unwanted suspicion.

They arrived back at the stile, and Sirius paused, sitting on his haunches and panting at them. His big eyes looked sad, though, as they said their silent goodbyes. Harry, Hermione and Ron all patted him on the head, but Winona crouched down at his side, uncaring that her knees got drenched in the slushy snow.

"See you, Snuffles," she said quietly, scratching behind his ear. His tongue lolled from his mouth, but his eyes were still sad. She smiled at him, the warmest expression she knew how to make, and slowly stood back to her feet, watching as her father reluctantly trotted off around the edge of Hogsmeade village.

"We should get back," said Hermione, looking anxiously towards the castle.

The others agreed, and together they all made their way up the empty path to school. They made it inside the gates just moments before the curfew, and Professor Sprout – who was waiting at the gates to see the last student in – shot them a disapproving look as the gates creaked shut after them.

They were just heading into the Great Hall for dinner when McGonagall stopped them in the open doorway. "Miss Andrews," she said curtly. Winona's eyebrows raised, watching as their professor shot the three younger students a sharp look that had them scurrying by, heading immediately for the Gryffindor table and that night's feast. Once they were gone, McGonagall's shrewd eyes cut back to Winona. "The Headmaster needs to see you in his office. Immediately."

"Oh," said Winona, surprised. "Is everything okay?"

McGonagall's eyes only narrowed, but not at Winona. Rather at the situation, which made her very curious indeed. "I believe you have a visitor," she said tightly. Winona didn't have the faintest clue who would be visiting _her_, but from the look on McGonagall's face, she got the feeling she wasn't going to like the answer.

"Okay," she said, a tiny bit anxious at the thought. "I'll head up there now."

McGonagall was still frowning, but she did nothing more than nod before turning and heading up towards the Head table for her own dinner.

Perplexed, Winona quickly turned her eyes to the Gryffindor table, scanning for her friends. She found Angelina and the girls first – but was as the new usual, they were sitting at the far end, away from the boys, and paying them all no attention. Sighing, she kept scanning until she found two heads of shaggy red hair.

Fred was already looking at her, questions in his eyes. She gave an over-exaggerated shrug and gestured over her shoulder. _Dumbledore,_ she mouthed. Fred's eyebrows hiked up, but he could only nod, telling her he understood.

With a quick wave goodbye, Winona reluctantly turned and made her way up the main staircase towards the Headmaster's office.

Giving the password to the gargoyle and making her way up the twisting stairs, Winona paused outside the large, ornate doors. There were voices coming from the other side. She couldn't hear any specific words, but it sounded like whoever was in there was arguing.

She knocked twice and all the noise from the other side went dead. A beat, then the door creaked open, letting her inside.

Winona really wasn't sure who to expect – maybe Mr and Mrs Weasley, or perhaps Lupin? She couldn't think of a single other personal outside of the school who would have any reason to come visit _her_. But when she stepped through the door and discovered who exactly it was there to see her, she realised that without having a vision, she couldn't have possibly predicted who waiting for her.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I know it was a tad heavy on the canon-dialogue, but I felt it was necessary to the story. I tried to edit out as much as I could, so it was only original content. Hope you enjoyed!**

**This week's spotlight review goes to: _3AMPANIC_ – thank you for your review! I try and make my characters and their interactions seem as realistic as possible. I'm so glad you like my story and I'm happy you look forwards to my updates. I hope you enjoyed this one just as much!**


	43. Was it happy?

Cornelius Fudge – _Minister _for fucking _Magic_ – stood beside Dumbledore's desk, face red like he'd just been holding his breath, or more like shouting at the Headmaster, given the raised voices she'd heard through the closed door.

For a moment Winona could only stand there, staring dumbly at the Minister, lost for words. Fudge seemed to realise the whole moment was painfully awkward and tried to cover it by arranging his expression into a perfunctory smile.

"Miss Andrews," he said, voice croaky, smile insincere. He took several large steps forwards, hand outstretched. Cautious, Winona's eyes cut to Dumbledore. He was stood by his chair, and if he was angered by whatever he and Fudge had been talking about, it wasn't showing on his face. The guy was an emotional vault. He nodded once towards Fudge, as if encouraging her on.

Perplexed, Winona reluctantly took the Minister's hand, shaking politely. "Minister," she greeted him, voice admittedly a little stale. "Er, hi."

"Miss Andrews," he said again, holding her hand in both of his. "What an honour it is to meet you at last."

The moment it was socially acceptable, Winona removed her hand from his grip and tucked them both into the back pockets of her ratty old jeans. "Um, me?" she asked with a blink. How did the Minster for Magic even know who she _was_? And why in the name of Merlin's saggy left nut was he honoured to _meet_ her?

"Indeed," he told her enthusiastically. "It's not everyday one gets to meet a genuine Seer."

Oh. She realised what this was about. That _fucking_ article. So far, other than the bottomless scorn of her less than open-minded peers, that stupid article had had no visible ramifications. But now here she was, stood in front of the Minister for Magic – who was looking at her in a kind of hungry way that made her want to throw a stunning spell and book it back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Right," she finally murmured, looking back at Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't look thunderous, which she supposed boded somewhat well. She turned back to Fudge. "Um, forgive me, Minister, but I have to ask. You're here because…?"

Fudge seemed to be trying to draw himself up to his full height, which wasn't particularly impressive, but still made Winona uneasy. "I'm here, Miss Andrews, to extend something of an offer."

Winona hesitated, a pit appearing in her gut. "An offer," she echoed, toneless.

Fudge smiled again, and she didn't like that very much at all. He swept a hand towards her usual chair opposite Dumbledore's desk. "Won't you take a seat?"

Feeling like she didn't have a choice, Winona reluctantly sank down onto the seat, brow furrowed as she stared up at Fudge, who was now perched on the edge of the Headmaster's desk like a power-hungry authority figure trying to come across as less threatening. She didn't like that, either.

Dumbledore took a seat in his own chair, steepling his fingers in front of him, watching all of this happen through inscrutable eyes.

"Miss Andrews," Fudge began, beady eyes on her, the weight of them uncomfortable, "ever since the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, we have always kept our eye on those of rising talent in the subtle art of Divination. As I'm sure you're aware, gifts of your calibre are…rather invaluable."

She wasn't liking where this was heading at all, and her hands twisted together tightly in her lap.

"Usually we discover True Seers at a younger age – but given that _Professor Dumbledore_," he spat the Headmaster's name like it were an Unforgivable Curse, "neglected to inform the Ministry of the significant promise of your abilities, we are only now able to extend our offer of guidance and partnership in this endeavour."

Winona blinked. "Um, which endeavour is that, exactly?"

Now Fudge looked confused. "Well – to make your way in the world as a Seer, it takes connections. It takes training, and resources. Every great Seer ever born into Great Britain has worked alongside this administration to help bolster the Ministry's standing and prepare our world – our people – for what is to come-"

"Sorry," Winona interrupted him, still frowning. "But I don't want to be a professional Seer. I never have."

Fudge appeared blindsided. "You have different career plans?"

Winona felt unease settle like dust on her insides, making them feel dry and foreign. "My plan is to be an artist," she told him, hating how self-conscious the simple words made her feel.

Fudge's eyebrows hiked up even higher. "An artist?" he repeated like it were a word he'd never before heard.

"My goal is to create a name for myself in the art industry, and eventually make a living selling paintings," she told him. "I know it's a rather unorthodox career path for a witch to take, but it's what I've always wanted to do."

The Minister didn't seem to know what to say, staring at her like she'd just spoken fluent Gobbledegook.

"I'd say that answers your question, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, a note of amusement in his husky, ancient voice.

Fudge took a deep breath and tried again. "Miss Andrews, what I'm offering is a mutually beneficial arrangement," he said with false patience. "I assure you, you will be very well compensated for your contributions to the Ministry-"

"What arrangement would this be, exactly?" Winona interrupted him again. There were probably rules against that sort of thing – what with him being the leader of their world and all – but Winona never had been very good with authority.

"Well, once you've graduated in little more than a year, you would be brought on as a full-time Ministry consultant, for which would would be handsomely compensated-"

"Consultant on what?" she demanded.

He began to turn red again, but he managed to keep his temper. "On any and all matters deemed pertinent by the Minister for Magic."

Winona crossed her arms tightly. "So I would, what? Sit in an office all day trying to bring on visions about things you want me to?" she asked. It hardly sounded like her dream job. In fact, it sounded closer to her idea of hell.

Fudge spluttered a moment. "I assure you, Miss Andrews, it's a highly esteemed position. You would be High Seer to the Minister for Magic-"

"You know you can just say _you_, right?" she interjected dryly. "We all know who the Minister is. We hardly need to be so formal."

Fudge didn't seem to know how to handle her. Blinking rapidly, he tried to regain the control slipping rapidly from between his sausage-like fingers. "You would finish out your studies here, of course," he continued like she hadn't even spoken. "But you needn't worry about finding work after you graduate."

It was like he hadn't heard a single thing she'd said. She got the urge to bang her head against the desk until she went deaf, but she just managed to hold back from anything quite so drastic. "Kind as the offer is, Minister, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Fudge pushed off the side of the desk and paced away a moment, before turning back, accusations like fire in his eyes.

"You have _poisoned_ this young girl against the Ministry," he spat at Dumbledore, finally losing his cool. Dumbledore didn't so much as react, and it just about drove poor Fudge to insanity. "You've had her here, all along, keeping her for yourself. He who has access to a Seer has _unbelievable_ power – you had _no_ right to keep her existence from me."

Winona wasn't going to let him shout about her like she weren't even there – like she were some object up for sale. She stood to her feet, the sudden movement taking the Minister by surprise. "The Headmaster has not poisoned me against you, Minister," she told him tartly. "You've done a fine enough job of that all on your own."

Fudge took a physical step back, stunned by her venomous jab. Clearly he wasn't used to people talking back to him. But Winona wasn't afraid of him. She'd seen things coming in the not-so distant future that made Cornelius Fudge look like a bloody Cornish Pixie.

Glancing to Dumbledore, Winona found him to be smiling, but she wasn't sure why. Was he proud of her? Amused? Or was he just glad she was taking his side in all of this – even if not in so many words.

"But-" said Fudge helplessly.

"You heard Miss Andrews' decision, Cornelius," said Dumbledore mildly. "I do believe it is final."

Fudge's jaw worked a few times, making him look like a stunned fish, but in the end there were no words he could find. Instead he turned to Winona, beady eyes narrowed with hateful determination, and Winona wondered if he was a Slytherin, back when he was still in school.

"I hope you know, Miss Andrews, that the offer is always going to be there," he told her tartly. "And I think, one day, you just might find yourself reconsidering."

Winona stared back at him, feeling strangely as if something in her agreed. Not logically, of course – she'd rather eat a Boggart than work for the Ministry – but she _felt_ something in her telling her that maybe he had a point. She knew how rocky the world was going to get soon. How tumultuous it was going to become. Who knew the moves she was going to have to make in the future?

Certainly not her. Not yet.

"I'll take my leave, Albus," said Fudge tersely.

Dumbledore swept a hand towards his fireplace. "I believe the Floo is still open," he said dismissively.

Fudge gave a final, irritated noise before grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and stepping into the flames. He was gone in moments, leaving Winona in a silence that rang like a bell. She turned to Dumbledore, finding him still sat in his chair, hands steepled like he hadn't a care in the world. She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to scream and scream until her voice stopped working and maybe the world made a little more sense and she finally knew who, exactly, she could trust.

"That was a very brave thing you did, Winona," said Dumbledore finally, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Not many witches your age would stand up to the Minister for Magic like that."

"Brave, or stupid?" she countered tiredly.

Dumbledore smiled inscrutably. "Perhaps a little of both."

She retook her seat, slouching until her head rested against the top of its backrest. "What he said, about you keeping me to yourself," she said carefully, staring up at the high ceiling instead of him. "Was that true?"

Dumbledore said nothing a moment, and the silence felt louder than ever. "For your own protection, yes," he finally said, but to her ears it sounded like the most insincere thing he'd ever said to her. She hated him, in that moment, just a little bit more.

But the truth of the matter was, if her options were either to put her trust with the Ministry of Magic or Albus Dumbledore – well, she certainly considered the latter the lesser of two evils.

"I'm going to go back down to the feast," she told him decisively, climbing to her feet with a sigh.

But the Headmaster gestured to the grandfather clock in the corner. "I believe dinner has just finished," he told her, and with a glance at the clock, she realised he was right. Everyone would be making their way back to their common rooms by now, bellies full and satisfied. Winona's felt hollow and sore. "I do believe you're a favourite of the house-elves', however," he added, mischief sparkling in his sapphire eyes. "Perhaps a visit to the kitchens is in order."

She wasn't sure how he knew about their visits to the kitchens, but she couldn't be bothered pressing the issue. "Goodnight, Professor," she told him as she turned away, ever-present bag bouncing against her hip as she made her way to the door.

"Sleep well, Winona," he called after her. She let the door shut without looking back.

There were plenty of Hufflepuffs milling around down near the kitchens, taking their time making their way back to their common room. Winona had to wait until the corridor was clear before tickling the pear to grant her entry into the kitchens.

She was a tad surprised – or maybe not even at all – to find the twins sat at the table closest to the fire, mugs of something steaming in their hands and a piece of parchment in front of them that they were discussing in low voices.

"Hey," she greeted them, the coldness of her encounter with Dumbledore and the Minister fading away at the sight of them. They looked up, faces open and happy, and the last of the ice in her chest thawed, leaving her feeling only warm.

She slid onto the bench beside Fred, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling herself tightly into his side. The warm press of him against her was good, reassuring in a way she hadn't known she'd needed.

Fred pressed a kiss into her hair, and her heart stuttered as she melted against him, breathing in his scent for a moment before reaching for his mug, sipping the hot chocolate within.

"I'm here too, y'know?" said George, sounding utterly unimpressed.

She opened her eyes – barely having realised she'd shut them – and looked over at her best friend sheepishly. "Sorry, Georgie," she said softly, still burrowed into Fred's side like she might be able to climb inside of him and hide there, loved and safe, for the rest of the night. "It's been a _really_ long day."

Fred's fingers moved slowly up and down her side. It tickled slightly, but was more soothing than anything else. "What'd Dumbledore want?" he wondered.

She sighed again, taking another gulp of hot chocolate for strength. "It wasn't Dumbledore," she told him. "It was Fudge."

The twins froze, staring at her with wide eyes, and she used the moment to wave over a nearby house-elf.

"Do you have any leftover roast I can have?" she asked hopefully. "I missed dinner."

"Right away, Miss," squeaked the house-elf, scurrying away at top speeds. Winona smiled after him, then put Fred's mug down on the table and focused her attention back on the twins, who were still gaping at her with matching expressions of shock.

"Fudge," echoed Fred blandly. "You mean _Cornelius_ Fudge?"

"_Minister_ for _Magic_, Fudge?"

She nodded tiredly. "One and the same."

The house-elf reappeared, a plate piled high with food, and Winona began to eat. Around mouthfuls she relayed everything that had happened in Dumbledore's office, tacking on that if Fudge had any say, she'd probably be hauled out of Hogwarts here and now and stuck in a windowless room to search the future for him and him alone.

"Merlin," muttered George, looking vaguely haunted. Knowing he thought it was about as daunting and fucked up as she did wasn't exactly comforting, but it did make her feel a little less alone.

"So, what _I'm_ getting out of this, is that you basically told the Minister for Magic to go fuck himself," said Fred, because he was incapable of sitting idly by while the mood around him plummeted. Winona arched an eyebrow and turned to look at him properly. "Gotta say, that's about the sexiest thing I've ever heard."

She loved that he could make her laugh, even now. She giggled into his shoulder, then tilted her chin up so she could look him in the eye. "Yeah?" she asked coyly. Fred smirked, devilishly mischievous in a way that made her heart race.

She bit her lip and his eyes flickered down. Winona grinned wider and pushed herself up so she could press a quick, playful kiss to his lips.

George cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm still here, guys," he said dryly.

Winona pulled back from Fred and flashed George another apologetic grin. "Sorry…again."

George rolled his eyes and flapped his hand, waving her apology away. "I get it," he told her impishly. "It's these Weasley good looks. You can't resist."

"Yeah," she agreed teasingly. "Shame the genes missed you."

George made a face at her, but she ignored it and dug back into her meal, enjoying the way Fred's fingertips continued to dance up and down her side, an affectionate afterthought.

"How'd today go, by the way?" Fred wondered once she was finished her leftovers and had moved on to some apple crumble for dessert. He meant her meeting with Sirius. It felt like it had all happened a lifetime ago, even though it had only been a few hours.

Winona shrugged, suddenly very interested in her meal. "It was fine."

She felt the twins exchange a glance over her head. "Fine?" asked Fred cautiously, like he were dipping his toe in the waters, checking they were swimmable.

"We mostly just spoke about what happened at the World Cup, and he told us some stuff about Crouch and his son that happened back in the day, then we spoke a bit about the Death Eaters…" she trailed off, shrugging.

"So, you didn't talk to him alone, at all?" asked George.

"No, I did," she told him. "After we were done talking about Harry and the Tournament and everything, the others stepped outside and we got a few minutes alone."

"And?" Fred pressed eagerly.

"And it was…nice."

The twins exchanged another glance. "Nice," Fred echoed dubiously. Not knowing what else to say, she shrugged again. "Win, he's your _dad_."

She winced. "Ugh, don't use the _'d'_ word."

He rolled his eyes, and she flicked him in the temple in reprimand. He yelped and Winona grinned around her spoon. "Win," said George, leaning across the table, forcing her to meet his eyes. "How'd it go?" he asked, a touch more gentle than his twin.

Winona sighed and pushed away what remained of her plate, picking up the pumpkin juice the house-elf had supplied and taking a deep drink. Fred caught her free hand under the table, threading their fingers together and holding tight, a silent support.

"It went well," she confessed. "He said he wanted Harry and I to come live with him, one day, when he's cleared and he can get a proper house without worrying he'll get dragged back to Azkaban."

"Wow," said Fred quietly. "Is that what you want?"

She shrugged again. "I think so. Anywhere's gotta be better than where I'm living now, right?"

"Come on," Fred pressed. "Don't pretend you're not at least a little excited at the idea of living with him and Harry."

"I'm not pretending," she insisted. "It'll be good."

He nudged her pointedly. "It'll be _great._"

She knew he was right, but she was still trying to find the courage to admit it to herself. He seemed to sense it, smiling and effortlessly changing the subject to something Lee had said at dinner, and Winona was glad to sit and listen in peace, letting her mind drift and her taut muscles finally relax.

* * *

The day of her birthday, Winona woke up earlier than usual. Her sleep had been plagued by terrible nightmares she couldn't quite remember, and so when the first light of day shone through the window, she was awake, and didn't bother trying to get any more sleep.

The pile of presents on her bed called to her, and she was glad the girls were all still asleep, meaning she could open them without any prying eyes.

The customary Sugar Quills from Lee. A small pile of sweets from Ginny, and also Hermione and Ron. A pair of brand new, purple sneakers from all the girls in the dorm. Mrs Weasley had sent her a pair of warm, knitted gloves in a deep maroon, along with a small batch of her favourite biscuits. From Harry there was a rainbow assortment of self-sharpening pencils that she grinned at, and from George, some novelty socks he knew she'd get a kick out of.

There was one present left in the pile, and while Winona expected it to be from Fred, she was surprised to find it labelled with a note: _love from Snuffle_s.

Heart stuttering in her chest, Winona tore off the dirty newspaper it was wrapped in to find a battered copy of the book_ Peter Pan_ by J. M. Barrie. Confused, she opened the cover to find a note scrawled onto the inside with what looked like charcoal.

_Ask when you see me next,_ it read in dark, looping letters, along with a sweet but poorly sketched heart. Winona shut the cover and cradled the book close to her chest. She didn't know its significance, but it was important – she could feel it. Like it were a missing piece to the puzzle of her life. She suddenly couldn't wait to see Sirius again, hopefully for longer than a few short minutes.

Putting the book down, she realised with a blink that there was nothing from Fred. She frowned, brow pinching as she stared at the end of her bed like if she concentrated hard enough she might will a present into existence. But nothing appeared, and she was left disappointed.

Moving from her bed into the shower, Winona put it out of her mind, indulging in an extra long stretch under the hot spray, washing her hair and scrubbing her body with some of Alicia's fancy soap, soaking up the heat. When she dressed for the day and padded barefoot back out into the dorm, she was surprised to find an owl at the window, pecking quietly at the glass.

Bewildered, she made her way over, opening the window and flinching at the frosty air that billowed in. The owl hopped onto the windowsill, a small note attached to its foot. Winona untied it, whispering an apology to the bird for not having a treat, before it hooted once and flew back out the window. Winona shut it again and made her way back towards her bed.

Her name was scrawled across the front in familiar chicken-scratch handwriting. She smiled, sitting down on the end of her bed and pulling the note open.

_Meet me downstairs _

_xx_

Winona smiled, tucking the small note into the bottom of her bedside drawer before pulling on her new sneakers and tiptoeing out of the dorm to keep from waking the other girls.

Fred was waiting in the common room, slouched against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets, his hair an adorable, shaggy mess. Winona smiled at the sight of him, and as if sensing her presence, he looked up from the floor to meet her eyes.

"Hey," she said, feeling strangely breathless as he grinned, wide and soaked in affection.

"Happy birthday," he told her, pushing off the wall and walking towards her where she was stood at the base of the stairs.

She hummed in thanks, wasting no time in wrapping her arms around his neck as he stepped into her space, bringing him into a tight embrace, head tucked into the space at the hollow of his throat. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" she wondered, words whispered against his skin.

His hands slid up and down the length of her spine, and she felt him smiling into her hair. "Maybe I'm a Seer," he told her playfully. Rolling her eyes, Winona pulled back far enough to shoot him a narrow-eyed look, and he laughed quietly. "Or maybe I just know you really, really well."

Pushing herself up onto her toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, soft as petals under her own, before pulling away and smiling. One of his hands came up to her hair, running down the length of the white-blonde strands before bringing his fingertips to her face, tracing over the dark circles under her stormy eyes.

"Nightmares again?" he asked softly. Winona only nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Were they bad?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember."

"Maybe that's for the best."

She shook her head. "Not if they're meant to be warnings."

"If they were meant to be warnings, you'd remember."

Winona sighed, unconvinced. "Maybe."

He brought his hand back to her waist, sliding it around to the back of her spine, fingertips dancing like he were playing an instrument. He grinned at her, and the morose air shifted, replaced by something that made it easier to breathe.

"Wanna unwrap your present?" he asked eagerly, more excited than she was.

"Hmm," she purred, pressing herself closer and sliding her hands up the length of his chest. "Is my present you?" she asked in a sultry voice, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.

The tips of Fred's ears went bright red and he tipped his head back – probably to avoid meeting her eyes. "You're incorrigible," he groaned.

Winona hummed in agreement, trailing her fingers along the column of his throat. "But you love it," she said, speaking the words against his Adam's apple, her breath tickling his skin.

Fred took a deep breath, head still dropped backwards. "Merlin help me," he murmured, and she got the feeling he was genuinely begging Merlin for mercy. It made her smile against his throat, and a bubble of laughter escaped her chest. "What's got you in such a good mood?" Fred wondered once she finally took pity and shifted backwards, smirking up into his eyes.

Winona shrugged. "I got to see Snuffles for the first time in forever; I practically told the Minister for Magic to go fuck himself, so I'm still sort of riding out that high; and besides, it's my birthday. Who can be sad on their birthday?"

Fred was grinning widely. "What's it like to be seventeen?"

"Ask me in the Summer, when I can do all my worst chores with magic."

He shook his head fondly. "Come on," he said, releasing her waist and settling for taking her hand, threading their fingers together and tugging her impatiently towards the portrait hole. "You have a present to open."

Winona let him lead her through the halls, their path lit by the light of the not-yet-risen sun through the castle's large windows. It was quiet and peaceful, and in that moment it was easy to imagine they were the only two people alive in the world. That they'd somehow slipped into an alternate universe of their own creation, safe and happy, together.

"Where are you taking me?" Winona wondered about five minutes into their journey, it having only just occurred to her to ask. Being with Fred was so easy, she realised he could lead her to her death and she'd go with a smile on her face, so long as it meant she got to hold his hand on the way there.

It probably should have terrified her how intense that kind of revelation was, but instead she just held his hand tighter, pressing her face into his shoulder simply because she could, soaking up his scent and his warmth.

When he turned left at the Charms classroom, that was when Winona knew where they were going. She followed him up the long flight of stairs leading up to the Astronomy Tower, pressing her lips together to keep herself from grinning like a moron.

They reached the top to find a blanket laid out, along with a picnic basket and a small collection of fluffy blankets. She stopped on the landing, gripping Fred's hand tight, staring at the scene before her with wide eyes.

It took a moment to find her voice, and when she finally managed to tear her eyes from the setting before her, Winona found Fred's ears to be bright red but his eyes clear and confident. "I thought we could watch the sunrise," he explained, dragging his thumb over the back of her hand.

She smothered another ridiculous grin by chewing on her lip. "Fred Weasley," she said, voice soft so as to not shatter the atmosphere he'd created. "Who knew you could be such a romantic?"

Fred grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I have hidden depths," he told her simply as he dragged her further across the floor, towards the edge where the blanket was set up and they would be able to watch the sunrise.

"Do you, now?" she asked, shaking her head in exasperation as he made an exaggerated gesture for her to take a seat. She folded herself up in the middle of the blanket and shut her eyes to savour the moment when Fred wrapped one of the spare blankets around her shoulders. "And what might they be?"

Fred took a seat beside her, shuffling so their sides were pressed together, and she held the blanket open so he could slip inside. "Well, for starters, I always let Ginny have the last piece of pork at Christmas dinner – because it's her favourite," he said as she melted against him, ignoring the sunrise in favour of staring up into his face.

"Is that so?"

Fred nodded like he were confessing something grave. "And I tear up every time I hear the song Magic Works by the _Weird Sisters._"

Something about that particular confession felt important, and she quickly searched her memory, trying to recall why that was significant. It came to her suddenly, and she sat up a little straighter. "That's the song we danced to at the Yule Ball," she realised, feeling strangely breathless.

Fred gave a secret grin that absolutely did not make her stomach twist itself into knots. She rolled her lips into her mouth and looked away, taking a moment to recover.

"I thought you looked a little misty-eyed that night," she told him playfully, falling back on humour because it was easy; comfortable.

Fred grinned at her brightly. "I can't help it," he said. "It gets me every time."

Winona tilted her head to the side, catching his hand again and dancing her fingertips over his calloused skin. "I suppose that's our song, now, isn't it?" she mused. "How weird is that? That _we_ have a _song._"

"Nah," he disagreed. "S'not that weird."

He sounded so confident that Winona couldn't find reason to argue. Maybe it wasn't so weird; maybe they'd been working towards this moment from the very beginning. Maybe this was where they'd always been heading.

"Hungry?" Fred asked.

She wasn't really, but when he pulled out a plate of crepes covered in fruit and cherry sauce, Winona's mouth began to water and she knew she'd be eating the lot. "I bloody love the house-elves," she gushed as she cut off a piece and shoved it into her mouth.

Fred's nose crinkled. "Yeah, I had nothing to do with it," he drawled sarcastically.

Once she'd swallowed her mouthful, Winona gave an apologetic smile. "You know what I mean," she said, cutting off another piece and holding it out for him in offer. Instead of taking it from her, he leaned forwards and ate the food straight from the fork. Winona's stomach gave a somersault, and her bit her lip again, rolling her eyes when Fred smirked.

"We came all the way up here to watch the sunrise and you're too busy staring at me to look at the sky," he griped playfully. Winona blinked, realising he was right. Still, she gave him a shove before taking another bite of her breakfast and turning her attention to the sunrise as together they worked on the food before them.

The sky was a kaleidoscope of gentle peaches and ethereal lilacs, and on instinct Winona reached for her bag, stunned to realise she hadn't brought it with her. She'd forgotten about it entirely. The one thing she never went anywhere without, and she'd _forgotten_ it. It certainly said something about this thing she had going with Fred that it could bring her to _that._

"Win?"

She looked up at Fred, who seemed to read the panic in her eyes. His brow furrowed with concern. "I'm fine," she promised him quickly, not wanting him to worry. "I just… I forgot my bag."

Now his brow shot up, surprised as she was to discover her bag hadn't made the journey with her. "Do you feel like you're going to have a vision?" he asked, still looking concerned.

"No," she said softly. "I just never go anywhere without it."

"Well, worst comes to worst, you can always draw the prediction into the sauce left on this plate," he told her impishly, gesturing to the empty plate sat on the blanket in front of them. Winona laughed quietly. How was it he could always make her worst anxieties disappear with a single, well-timed joke? It was a magic in and of itself.

"It's actually…it's kind of a relief not to have it with me," she admitted, trying her hand at being vulnerable for once. If this was going to work, she had to be honest, even about this. "It's always there with me, a weight on my shoulders. With it gone, even just for an hour…" she trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. They might not have had the twin-telepathy he shared with George, but they had their own kind of understanding.

"Everyone needs a break from everything eventually," he told her quietly. "You're gonna be okay."

Winona smiled, trying to find the words to explain how grateful she was that he was just there with her, present in a way other people somehow weren't. But the words wouldn't come, so instead Winona climbed into his lap. She took his hands and used them to loop his arms around her waist, then settled back against him. Wrapped up in one another and the fluffy blankets the elves had so thoughtfully provided, they watched the oncoming day with a peace that settled down into their very bones.

And Winona did everything she could to keep herself from remembering that the peace wasn't going to last. Because she knew, better than anybody else in this world, the horrors that awaited them in the future.

* * *

The rest of her birthday passed in a rather unexceptional manner. She convinced the twins not to throw her a party – what with the whole Fred-and-her thing, her relationship with the girls wasn't as easy as it once was, and since Skeeter's article about her being a Seer broke out, the rest of the school was acting rather weird about her too. The last thing Winona wanted was a party filled with awkward people who didn't actually want to be there.

A few weeks passed and her relationship with Fred remained a secret. She got the sense he was getting a little antsy – wanting to come clean to the rest of their friends and the school – but he didn't push her on the matter, and she adored him all the more for it.

It was nearing the middle of April – the twins' birthday having long since come and gone – when Winona got a note at breakfast one Friday morning.

_Winona,_

_I'd like to see you. Just you. Meet me at the same place as before, lunchtime on Saturday._

_Snuffles_

_x_

Winona stared at the slip of paper in surprise. It had come with a nondescript school owl, and the ink was smudged, like it'd been written in a hurry.

"Who's that from?" Lee asked around a mouthful of bacon.

"Your mum," Winona replied without missing a beat.

Lee rolled his eyes and turned pointedly to a nearby conversation about the third and final task of the tournament. Fred leaned towards her, and she slipped him the note. He read it discretely, brow furrowed, then handed it to George who scanned it the same.

"Are you gonna go?" Fred wondered once his brother had passed it back.

"I guess so," she murmured, staring down at the note, tracing her eyes over the rushed handwriting.

"It isn't a Hogsmeade weekend," George pointed out.

"I'll borrow the Map from Harry, sneak out there that way."

The twins exchanged a glance. "Is it safe?" Fred asked cautiously.

The look she sent them was exasperated. "It's Hogsmeade," she reminded them dryly. "The biggest threats are the fangirls hiding out in the village, hoping to catch a glimpse of Krum."

But the twins didn't look convinced. "With Skeeter's article out there… Someone might recognise you," said George delicately. "Isn't Dumbledore always warning you about being careful, because of how valuable you'd be the wrong sort of person?"

"If I always did what Dumbledore said, you two wouldn't even know I was a Seer in the first place," she reminded him. "I'll be fine. I'll be with Snuffles."

The twins exchanged a look meaningful to the two of them. "We'll come with you," Fred suddenly declared.

"Fred-" she tried to argue.

"You can see Snuffles alone," he told her. "But we'll go down the tunnel with you, walk you to the meeting place. Just to be safe."

Winona wasn't convinced. "And what do you plan to do with yourselves while I'm busy?"

"We'll hang out in the Three Broomsticks, get a butterbeer or two," George shrugged. "S'not like Rosmerta will dob us in."

"Besides," added Fred, "we're seventeen now. As far as the law's concerned, we're adults. We can do what we like."

She wanted to argue, but she knew from experience how pointless it would be. The twins were the most stubborn people she knew. If they said they were coming, then they were coming. Nobody could talk them out of something they'd set their minds to.

So, the next day, Winona and the twins inconspicuously slipped out of lunch in the Great Hall and made their way to the secret passage beneath the one-eyed witch statue. George spoke the password to allow them entry, and Winona slipped in first.

She had to wait for awhile on the other side, as the twins were almost too large to fit through the tiny gap. Their shoulders were broad and strong from their years on the Quidditch team, and they were both ridiculously tall. It took several minutes for them to manoeuvre themselves into the passage.

"Took you long enough," she complained once they were in the passage with her. "At this rate, I'm going to be late."

They slipped from Honeydukes with the kind of stealth that had developed over years of sneaking around places they shouldn't be. Like Fred had said, they were all seventeen now, and they weren't wearing their uniform, so it was easy to walk through the town without anyone pulling them up for being where they shouldn't.

With none of their peers around to see, Winona was able to hold Fred's hand without worrying about gossip spreading like the plague. They walked through the chilly spring air, the three of them talking easily, keeping things light before Winona's one-on-one discussion with her father.

At the stile at the end of the lane waited a shaggy black dog. Sirius was laid on the ground, his triangular head resting on his muddy paws. He raised his head as they approached, then stood up in excitement when he saw who it was.

Winona waved to him, a tiny bit awkward, then turned to the twins while they were still several metres away. "This is where I leave you," she told them sternly. "I'll meet you back at the Three Broomsticks in a couple of hours – maybe less, depending on how things go."

George was nodding in agreement, but Fred's eyes were on the Animagus loitering at the fence behind them. "It's so weird to think that's your _dad_," he whispered.

Winona flinched. "Don't say the 'd' word, Fred. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"But he is, Win," said George delicately. "You're gonna have to face it eventually."

She didn't bother replying to that, just resting a hand on her bag and glancing at the dog waiting at the stile. "I'll see you guys soon," she told them, but before she could properly turn away Fred caught her hand and tugged her back towards him.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he pressed, stubborn to a fault. George politely turned away to give them the illusion of privacy.

The ice in Winona's heart thawed. "Fred, seriously, I'm fine," she promised him. "Go harass Rosmerta. I'll be back before you know it."

He eyed her another long moment before finally nodding in agreement. He ducked in, about to place a kiss on her lips until he remembered her father was literally staring directly at them, and changed his mind, pecking her on the cheek instead. Winona squeezed his hand twice, shooting him a smile and turning away, heading for the stile, climbing over it and following Sirius back up the winding, treacherous path up towards his little cave.

She was glad for the time to get her thoughts in order and calm her nerves as they walked, Sirius occasionally pausing to scan the horizon with his canine eyes. Winona didn't have a bad feeling, and she could tell he was just being paranoid. But that was good. So far, paranoid had kept him alive.

They reached the cave and he waited for her to slip inside first. It was just as cold and damp as it had been before, but this time it held a little bit more character.

Buckbeak was still in the corner, tied up and appearing to be enjoying an afternoon doze. There was a small pile of packaged food sitting against the far wall, and she recognised most of it from the Hogwarts' kitchens. Realising Harry had been sending him food, Winona felt bad for not thinking to do the same. She turned away before the guilt could overwhelm her.

There was a small pit in the centre of the room. Clearly there'd been a fire there at some point, but now it was just a smudge of ash. Winona pulled free her wand and without giving it much thought flicked it at the pit. Immediately a small fire began to crackle away, lighting up the dank cave with light and warmth.

"Thank you," came Sirius' voice, and it was a miracle Winona didn't flinch at the shock of it. She turned to find him standing in human form, shuffling towards the fire she'd conjured, ratty prison robes draped over his thin frame. "You've no idea how difficult it is to make a fire without magic."

Winona fingered the tip of her wand, thoughtful. "It just occurred to me," she said quietly, "that was my first use of magic outside of school. Now that I'm of age, and all."

Sirius' face went from stricken to wistful, and she wished she knew Legilimency, if only so she could understand what was going on inside his head. "Well," he said, unmistakeably bitter, "at least I was there for one of your firsts."

Pain twisted in Winona, the words like a knife. She turned away so he wouldn't see the way her expression crumpled, crouching down to the fire, holding her hand out to the heat. Sirius seemed to realise he'd misstepped.

"Sorry," he apologised awkwardly.

"It's fine."

Silence reigned and Winona wondered whether this had been such a good idea after all. Why did he ask her here? To drive the knife that was her childhood abandonment in deeper? To remind her of what she'd never had? She doubted he was so cruel – but that was just it, she didn't really _know_ him.

Where did somebody even begin when it came to getting to know the father you'd thought was dead for fifteen years of your life? It was an unprecedented situation.

Thankfully she didn't have to produce some topic to talk about; apparently Sirius already had something in mind. Winona watched as he went to the small pile of old Daily Prophet copies in the corner, rifling through them a moment before holding up a very familiar edition.

She realised why he'd asked her here, now. He wanted to talk about Skeeter's article. He wanted to talk about the fact she was a Seer.

Winona looked away, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down into the crackling flames of her magical fire. She heard the paper rustle as Sirius flicked it open to the correct page, a picture of herself scowling at the camera pasted across the front.

"I know we mentioned it back when we spoke over the Floor, but I have to ask… Why didn't you say anything?" he finally asked, sounding unfairly hurt.

Winona felt her own eyes flash. "When was I supposed to bring it up? In the twelve years I thought you were dead, or at some point in the collective eight minutes I've had alone with you since I found out you weren't?"

She was glad to see Sirius at least looked a little bit chastised. "You could have written," he said anyway.

"It's not really the kind of thing you can just put in a letter," she said, idly kicking a loose pebble into the fire. "Besides, it isn't that important."

Sirius blanched across from her. "_It isn't that important_?" he parroted incredulously. "Winona, you're a _Seer._ A real, honest-to-Merlin Seer. Do you have any idea what kind of danger that puts you in? Especially in times like these."

"Yeah," she muttered. "I think I've been warned about the dangers a hundred times or so by Dumbledore."

Sirius was staring at her, and she again cursed that she wasn't any good at Legilimency. "If the wrong people got to you, Winona…" he began.

"What wrong people?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "It's no secret the world is in something of a state at the moment…" he began again, keeping his own voice carefully measured. "There are forces you can't even begin to understand at work here. I've heard things – whisperings of certain…people…trying to return."

"You mean Death Eaters," she said flatly. "Yeah. I'm familiar."

Sirius took several large steps towards her, crossing the space between them. It took a very conscious effort for her not to step back out of his space. "What have you Seen?" he asked, eyes wide and imploring.

Now Winona did move away, pacing across the other end of his small hideaway. She wanted to lie and say she hadn't seen anything, but what was the point in that? She needed to trust somebody eventually, and her whole world couldn't revolve around the twins and Harry. Besides, as much as she really hated saying it, this was her _dad._

"Nothing specific," she told him, balling her hands into fists, nails biting into the skin of her palm. "Flashes of pain, or grief. Mostly nightmares I can't quite remember." Glancing up, she found Sirius was frowning. "I don't get clear visions," she explained. "I get flashes and go into a sort of…trance. When I come out of it, I have a sketch waiting for me – a prediction of the future. And usually a pretty accurate one, too."

Sirius was quiet, watching the flames dance, their glow lighting up his gaunt face. "But you've seen bad things coming?" he asked, staring resolutely into the fire.

Winona shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice lacking strength. She cleared her throat and tried again. "The future isn't looking too bright; let's just say that."

Sirius finally looked away from the flames to stare at her. She stared right back, wondering what he was seeing. Did he look at her and see her mother? Did he see his past, and everything he'd lost that night with Pettigrew on a busy London street?

"It must be awful," he said suddenly, taking her by surprise. She cocked her head, confused. "I know bad things are coming. I can feel them in the air, see them in the dark deals happening down in the town. But I can't _See_ them, not up close like you. And I'm very sorry you have to."

Winona was in a state of almost shock. She stared at him, wordless, and he smiled back patiently.

"I meant what I said, Winona," he continued when it became clear she wasn't going to speak. "The world is a dangerous place right now – for you even more so." He hung his head then, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "You and Harry – the most _important_ people in my life – and you're the two most wanted, sought-after wizards in the world."

He shook his head like the world had disappointed him once again. "Yeah, life tends to work that way," she replied thickly. "It's kind of a bastard like that."

Sirius kept his head hung, something like defeat in the set of his body, and Winona got the annoying urge to try to melt it away.

"Can I ask you something?" she wondered quietly.

He lifted his head, looking a little bit shaken but otherwise fine. "Anything," he told her, and she felt the words like a promise bigger than any she'd heard before.

Swallowing that down, she pressed onwards. "You mention my…" she trailed off, struggling with the word, "Jessica," she settled for saying instead. "You said she was sensitive to the future?"

She half expected Sirius to wince in pain or maybe tear up at the mention of her late mother, but instead he surprised her with a smile, fond and warm, like her memory brought him nothing but joy. She wished she could relate.

"She had a knack for knowing what was in a present before unwrapping it, and she always won at poker – every single time – but she didn't get visions, or prophecies of any kind."

Winona was taken aback by her own disappointment, and Sirius seemed to understand with only a look.

"She was definitely sensitive to her inner eye," he told her gently. "But privately, I wonder if it was just you inside of her all along, waiting to come out."

Clearing her throat, Winona stared stubbornly down at the fire. She expected Sirius to let them fall back into uncomfortable silence, but he surprised her again by speaking up.

"Jessica was the year ahead of James in school, so she was already in second year when I started with James in first-" he began quietly, in the tone of somebody settling in to tell a long story.

"Stop," said Winona, and Sirius looked up, warring surprise and hurt on his face, making Winona feel like a jerk for cutting him off. Throat tight, she tried to look apologetic, but she wasn't sure she was doing such a good job.

"I thought you wanted to hear about her?" he asked softly.

She cleared her throat again. "I did," she said quietly. "I do. But I just don't know if I'm…ready, yet."

Sirius looked confused, and Winona was horrified to find her eyes beginning to burn with the sting of oncoming tears. She'd thought she was past this trauma, thought she was over her past. But sitting with her father in the firelight, talking about her mother – it was all so starkly _real_, and she didn't know how to handle it. Turning away from him, she pressed a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

"Winnie…" Sirius said helplessly from behind her, but the sound of her nickname on his lips only made the burning in her eyes stronger.

"I spent my life trying to get over her death," she began, the words wavering with the dip and flow of her emotion, pouring out of her, unbidden. "Trying to convince myself I didn't care, because that was easier than the alternative. But the truth is, I care so much I think I'm going to die from the pain of it." Slowly she turned back to look at him, horrified to find his grey eyes looked as glassy as hers. "I want to hear all about her, one day. I wanna know what her favourite colour was, and how she liked to have her tea, and whether she was any good at art – but right now, I'm just not _ready_ to know. I need to pretend I don't care; just for a little while longer."

Sirius was silent for a long few moments, but then, to her relief, understanding seemed to melt over him like wax from a candle, softening the sharp jut of his shoulders and chin.

"I understand," he told her softly, attempting a smile. "Whenever you're ready – all you have to do is ask."

Winona tugged restlessly at the hem of her sweater. "Thanks."

Sirius smiled, a little bit awkward again, now that they'd gotten emotional in front of one another. "Can I ask something, now?" he asked carefully.

It took her longer than he had to muster up the answer of, "Anything."

Sirius smiled, and she could see again how he would have been handsome, once upon a time. Before years in dementor-filled hell eroded it all away. "Can I see some of your art?" he asked gently, sad acceptance in his eyes, like he fully expected her to say no. "Harry mentioned you were rather good and I'd – I'd love to see some."

There was something vulnerable about the way he asked, and that something melted her heart like fire against ice. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Winona nodded her head. "Yeah," she agreed. "Okay."

Sirius' dirty face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he watched as she dug her sketchbook out from the bag that hardly ever left her person. She walked away from him, taking a seat against the wall, only a few feet from the warmth of the flickering fire. Sirius took the hint and cautiously approached – like she were an easily spooked animal – finally taking a seat on her left.

She flicked through her book a moment, trying to decide what to show him, before finally just saying a mental 'screw it' and handing over the whole thing.

Sirius took it from her like it were a priceless artefact, cradling it gently in his hands like he half expected it to crumble to dust under his touch. He glanced unsurely at Winona, who nodded once in encouragement.

Slowly, carefully, he began to flip through the pages. He would stare at each drawing for a long minute in silence, saying nothing, then quietly move onto the next, and the next. At least fifteen minutes they sat there, both silent, as he flipped through her sketchbook, soaking up her creations.

Finally Winona could take no more – she felt like she'd given him a book of her soul to read, and it had left her feeling open, like an exposed wound – and so she gently took the book back. "I think that's enough for one day," she said softly, shutting the sketchbook and tucking it back into her bag.

"You're amazing," Sirius said, so quiet she almost missed it, folding his dirty hands in his lap and staring unseeingly at the fire crackling in front of them.

Winona felt her face flush at the matter-of-fact compliment. "I wasn't so good when I was younger," she said. "It took a lot of practise."

"That's not true," Sirius argued, and she looked back up in surprise. "Even when you were little you were good. I remember Lily raving over how you would always colour within the lines before you'd even hit three."

She dropped her head back until it thumped against the rock wall behind her, but she didn't care. "Sometimes I forget," she whispered, "that I had three whole years with you all before…before everything happened."

Sirius was still staring at the flames, seeing into the past like she so often saw into the future. "Do you remember any of it?" he asked, and the hope in his voice told her he really wanted her to. He wanted to share those memories with her, maybe just so they could share _something._

"Flashes. I remember laughter, and the smell of fresh crayons. I remember being tickled mercilessly and playing with a shaggy black dog," she confessed with a small smile. Sirius surprised her again by laughing, and the sound was familiar in a distant, instinctual way. Like she'd been born listening to that sound, and now it was written into her very DNA. "Maybe, when I'm ready, you can tell me more about that, too," she offered like an olive branch. A promise for the future she so often saw.

Sirius grinned, a tiny bit wolfish but mostly just endearing, and eagerly nodded his head. "I'd love to."

They fell back into quiet, only this time it wasn't awkward, but instead rather easy. Like the walls between them were beginning to break down, crumbling into rubble, leaving them free to see one another as they were. Winona was content, shutting her eyes and soaking up the heat of the fire she'd created.

Then Sirius had to go and ruin it all.

"What was your childhood like?" he wondered innocently. "Was it happy?"

Winona opened her eyes to find he was smiling as he asked it, and she realised with a heavy heart that he was expecting the answer to be _yes._ But Winona wasn't in the business of lying to family.

"No," she told him, staring at the fire so she didn't have to watch his easy happiness melt into dismay. "No, it wasn't very happy."

She could tell Sirius was frowning. "Your foster parents, they weren't…?" he trailed off, not seeming to now how to word the question.

Winona snorted. "Which foster parents?" she asked bitterly. "First few years there, I jumped around so often I couldn't even keep track. Good thing was, people don't like to beat toddlers. Bad thing was, once you grow older, all bets are off."

Sirius' silence rang like a bell. "They hurt you?" he asked, choked up and hoarse, like somebody had him by the throat.

"Yeah," she nodded, watching the blues and oranges in the flames dance around one another. It was easier than looking into his eyes. "They did."

Sirius didn't seem to know what to say in response to that. He wasn't angry, which surprised her some. Instead he just seemed…defeated.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, wracked with grief. "I'm just, I'm so sorry."

Winona nodded, but otherwise didn't reply.

"If I could go back-"

"You can't," she cut him off before he could finish. "You can't, so there's no point wishing you could. What's done is done, Sirius."

Sirius flinched, and she realised she was being rather harsh. But she didn't need flowery words and desperate, impossible wishes.

"I don't need you to go back in time and fix things," she tried again, attempting to right her wrong. She softened her voice, taking the bite out of the words. "What I need is for you to be _here, now._ I need you to…I need you to stay, this time," she said, horrified to find her eyes stinging once more. "I need you to promise you're not going to leave," she begged, staring glassily into the flames. "Not again. Please."

Sirius' arm settled tentatively over her shoulders, and to her surprise her instinct wasn't to shift away from him. She let him comfort her, shuffling ever so slightly closer to him and resting her temple against his shoulder. His hand rubbed hesitantly up and down her arm, and she sniffled rather pathetically.

"I'm not going anywhere, Winnie," he told her. The promise was probably an empty one – not even she had any say in the future. Who were they to promise anything, knowing the storm on the horizon? But it was what she needed to hear, and they both knew it. "I'm never going to leave you again."

Winnie nodded her head against his shoulder, reaching up to wipe at her leaking eyes with the sleeve of her knitted jumper.

"You okay, pup?" he whispered after another few moments of quiet.

A memory flashed in her head, so strong she nearly gasped. "You called me that," she whispered. "You and my mother. You called me _pup_ when I was a baby."

She felt Sirius press his face into her hair. "James started the whole thing. Called you our puppy. I guess it stuck," he laughed, chest vibrating with the force of it.

Sometimes it was easy for Winona to forget she had a whole past of people, people who had thrown her birthday parties and given her Christmas presents and probably played peekaboo with her as a baby. Jessica, Sirius, Remus, James and Lily – they'd been her family. And only just now, in this exact moment, huddled in a cave with her long-lost father, did she feel the stark loss of that.

"I should get back," she said after awhile of quiet, her leaning against him for support, him with his cheek resting on top of her head, holding her close. She got the feeling it was something he'd dreamt of doing again for years in Azkaban. She wondered what it felt like, for that dream to become a reality. Was it every bit like he'd imagined? "If what you say is true, then I shouldn't be out after dark."

"Right," he replied, watching as she pulled away. Climbing to her feet, Winona wiped her face once more, making sure to get rid of any tears that had lingered. He stood up after her, a small smile on his face – tentative, like he wasn't sure it was allowed. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked softly.

And when Winona smiled, it wasn't forced. "Yeah," she told him, feeling suddenly like it might actually be true. "I'm going to be fine."

"Off to meet up with that boyfriend of yours, no doubt," Sirius murmured, a playful spark in his eyes.

Winona's lips twitched. "Maybe." Sirius shook his head, grinning wolfishly. "He'll take good care of me – make sure I make it back up to the castle in one piece," she assured him.

"He sure as hell better."

Winona laughed, rolling her lips into her mouth, feeling shy. "I'll see you again soon, right?" she asked hopefully.

Sirius hesitated. "I don't want you sneaking out here all the time to see me – there's too much risk that you'll be seen by the wrong people, and-"

"I know. I get it," she said quietly.

He smiled, a little bit wistful. "Come summer, things will change," he promised her.

"How so?"

"I have a plan," he declared.

"A plan?" she echoed dubiously.

"Well, the beginnings of one, at least," he amended. Winona cocked her head curiously, but his only answer was a roguish grin. "You'll see."

She hummed, reaching up to tap at her temple. "Yeah, maybe I will."

Sirius shook his head with a grin. "That'll take some getting used to."

Winona smiled back. "Thanks for today, Sirius," she said quietly. He frowned again at her use of his name, but he was tactful enough not to bring attention to it.

"Owl me any time, Winnie," he swore. "I mean it. If you needed me, Dumbledore himself couldn't stop me from getting to you."

Winona smiled. "That's somehow both badass _and_ comforting."

She glanced over her shoulder at the crack in the mountain that led back out into the open. The sun was beginning to set, so she knew she had to go, even if all she really wanted to do was stay. "I'll see you again soon," Sirius said, as if reading her thoughts. "I promised I wasn't going anywhere, remember?"

She nodded in agreement. He took a tentative step towards her and slowly raised his hands. She stayed absolutely still as he took her head in his dirty hands and drew her closer, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. His scraggy beard tickled her skin, and the feeling made her smile.

Stepping back, he sent her a grin. "I'll see you soon," he promised once more, comforting parting words before he abruptly changed into his Animagus form, a mangey black dog taking his place.

Winona led the way back down the mountain and through the trees leading back to Hogsmeade village. Sirius stayed behind her, keeping her in his sight at all times, scanning the trees to be sure no threats were lurking. Finally they reached the fence and its little stile, and Winona turned to Sirius for a final goodbye.

His tongue lolled from his mouth as he panted up at her. She scratched behind his ear, smiling gently. "Thanks again," she whispered, scratching him once more before stepping back and making her way over the stile.

Sirius watched her go, and she waved subtly before finally turning the corner and stepping onto the main street of Hogsmeade. It was mostly empty, but candlelight flickered in the windows of the shops and homes lining the street. Winona quickly made her way to the Three Broomsticks, relieved but not surprised to find the twins sat at the table closest to the door, six empty glasses of butterbeer on the table between them.

Fred shot to his feet when he spotted her. "There you are!" he cried, catching the attention of a nearby trio of goblins. Winona ignored their beady-eyed stares and grabbed her boyfriend's hand. "We thought maybe you'd gotten lost."

"Fred was about ready to send out a search party," George laughed, pulling his jacket back on over his jumper as they left the warmth of the inn. Stepping back out onto the street, the wind was frigid and sharp, like needles against their skin, but Winona didn't mind it. It reminded her she was alive.

"Can you blame me?" Fred retorted. "Up until late last year, he was a raving lunatic. Excuse me for being concerned."

Winona gripped his hand tighter, tugging him in the direction of Honeydukes. "I'm here, and I'm fine," she told them. "We just got caught up."

"And?" George asked impatiently as Fred flicked his wand at the back door to the sweets shop. The door came unlocked and he led the way inside.

"And it was good," she shrugged.

"Good?" Fred echoed dubiously.

"Great," she amended in a whisper as they stealthily made their way back down into the cellar and through the trap door that led to the passageway into the castle.

"And you're okay?" Fred asked once they were safely sealed inside, path lit by wand light as they made their way towards the school.

Winona considered the question a moment before finally she smiled, finding the expression came easy. "Yeah," she confirmed, feeling it in her bones. "I'm okay."

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**A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the longer-than-usual wait for this one. Your responses to this story have been so amazing, and I'm thrilled you're all enjoying it still. I hope you enjoyed this one, but I have a feeling you're going to enjoy the next one even more – because let's just say it definitely earns its 'M' rating.**

**Spotlight review this time goes to: _lexicaruso –_ thanks so much for your review. It made me smile like crazy, and was honestly a spot of sunshine in an otherwise crappy week. I hope you liked this one, and I hope you stick around, I'd love to hear what you think of some of the things happening in the near-future!**


	44. They do something to me

**A/N: Hey guys, just a quick warning for extreme explicit content at the end of this chapter. Obviously you signed up for this, knowing it's an M rated story, but I thought I'd warn you anyway. Hope you enjoy!**

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Angelina, Alicia and Katie's frostiness had begun to recede over the last few weeks in April. By the time May came, it was like nothing had ever happened at all.

The only sign of lingering tension was between Angelina and Fred, who were by unanimous silent agreement never under any circumstances to be left alone together. When they were put into situations together in the group, the tension was obvious, but they were both doing a brilliant job of pretending like nothing was wrong.

Winona's hope was that maybe if they kept pretending things were normal for long enough, it might just become true. One day soon things would be completely back to normal. She was sure of it.

Her and Fred were still keeping things between them quiet, although she was rather sure they weren't fooling anyone. As fun as it was to sneak around the castle together and snog each other to death behind tapestries, it was slowly beginning to grow old. But Winona couldn't see a way out of it. She was in too deep now, terrified of what their friends would think when they found out the truth.

So far, her plan was just to keep ignoring the problem in hopes it might magically disappear. She didn't have very much hope, but it was the best plan she could come up with. Avoidance was key.

She was sat in the common room one afternoon with Alicia, Angelina and the twins when a vision hit her. It was sudden, like being plunged into a lake of icy water. It was cold, and there was somebody muttering something under their breath, almost like a chant. Flashes of colour, red and green – stunning spells, or something worse? – and then a loud cry of agony.

She came out of it with a gasp to find Fred crouched in front of her. He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her face. "You're back?" he asked, seeming to realise immediately when her glassy gaze cleared.

"Yeah," she said hoarsely.

Fred nodded once and shifted back, making her realise he'd been shielding her from view. Three quarters of the common room seemed to be openly staring at her. Clearly this vision hadn't been quite as _subtle_ as the others usually were.

"Show's over," snapped George, but it didn't do much to make the room's attention shift.

Winona turned away from her staring peers, eyeing the sketch in front of her. It was Mr Crouch, only he looked like a homeless person, all shabby and thin, and he had a terrified look on his face. She wasn't sure what it meant at all, but something in her chest was tugging her closer, closer towards the window in the corner of the common room.

"Win?" Fred asked as she stood to her feet as if in a daze, drifting ever closer to the window. She ignored him, peering through the glass to scan the grounds laid before her like a map. She couldn't see anything from this high up – whatever she was looking for, it was too far down – but her eyes fixed on a stretch of forest down near the Quidditch Pitch anyway.

"_Go get Dumbledore,_" something deep inside of her seemed to whisper. Without stopping to analyse the source of the urge, she stuffed her sketchbook deep into her satchel and turned to her friends, all of whom were doing nothing to hide the way they were staring.

"I've gotta go," she told them in a hurry. "It's important. I'll be back."

And with that she turned to leave, but was stopped by Fred grabbing her hand and tugging her back to him. "Win," he said, worried. "Is someone in trouble?"

And what was the point in lying? "Yes," she told him bluntly, squeezing his hand once, twice, three times before letting go and making for the portrait hole.

"Winnie!" Ron's voice stopped her before she could reach it. She turned impatiently to see him and Hermione heading towards her, matching worry on their faces.

"Is it Harry?" Hermione asked in an anxious rush.

But that wasn't an answer she had right now. "Just stay in the common room," she ordered them sternly. "I'll be back soon."

They tried to call out after her, but nobody was stopping her again. She shoved through the small group of seventh years making their way through the portrait hole, all but leaping through the gap, landing on her knees on the other side. But Winona didn't care, she just jumped back up and booked it down the corridor in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

She was still doing her weekly Occlumency lessons with the Headmaster, as well as visiting him with every new vision. She was the only student always kept up-to-date on his office's password.

"Liquorice Snaps," she barked at the gargoyle, who leapt obediently out of the way, letting her take the stairs two at a time to the door. She banged on the thick wood, pounding her fist against it over and over until the Headmaster called for her to enter.

He'd been sat at his desk, but seemed to have stood at the sound of her urgency, hands braced on its ornate surface, just a hint of concern in his glittering blue eyes. "Miss Andrews?" he asked warily.

"Crouch," she wheezed, the sprint there having winded her. "It's Crouch. He's going to die."

Dumbledore's wariness sharpened into an almost supernatural calm. "Where?"

"Outside – I'll show you," she said quickly.

He was around the desk suddenly, moving much faster than she'd expected of someone his age. But there was no time to marvel. Winona just led him out of his office and back down his circular stairs. The pair were pulled to a sudden stop, however, of the unexpected sight that met them in the corridor beyond Dumbledore's gargoyle.

"Harry!" Winona exclaimed at the sight of him, reaching out a hand and curling her fingers around his bicep, as if holding onto him might somehow keep him safe from danger.

"Winnie?" Harry seemed blindsided by the sight of her. His eyes darted to the other end of the hall, and Winona realised he wasn't alone. Snape stood there, sneering at the two of them like they were something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.

"Is there a problem, Severus?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

But Harry leapt in before Snape could answer. "Professor!" he cried. "Mr Crouch is here – he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

Dumbledore's icy eyes cut to Winona, who shook her head once, answering his unspoken question. "Very well," he said calmly. "Lead the way."

Harry hurriedly began to lead them both away from Snape, making their way swiftly down the hall. "But, Winnie, what're you doing-?" Harry started to ask.

"Crouch is in danger," she told him. "I just saw it. He's going to die."

"Die?!" Harry echoed in horror.

But Dumbledore kept his cool. "What did Mr Crouch say, Harry?" he asked as Harry led the way down the marble staircase.

"Said he wants to warn you … said he's done something terrible … he mentioned his son … and Bertha Jorkins … and – and Voldemort … something about Voldemort getting stronger. …"

"Indeed," murmured Dumbledore. By now the sky outside was completely dark, the thick blanket of clouds making sure not even the glow of the moon could light their way. It was pitch black, and without thought Winona reached for Harry's hand, holding tightly both to help guide them and for her own, selfish comfort.

"He's not acting normally," Harry explained as they jogged across the damp grass. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you. I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did?" asked Dumbledore sharply, speeding up until both Winona and Harry were sprinting just to keep up. Winona could tell Dumbledore wasn't happy knowing Krum was alone with Crouch – the question was, why? "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr Crouch?"

"No," said Harry. "Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest-"

"Where are they?" Dumbledore demanded as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," Harry assured him, plunging ahead through the dark. But there was nothing – Winona couldn't even hear anybody nearby. "Viktor?" Harry shouted, anxiety coating his voice. There was no answer, and Winona felt Harry grip her hand nearly to the point of pain as dread came over him. "They were here," Harry said to Dumbledore. "They were definitely somewhere around here."

The Headmaster lit his wand with a flick of his wrist, and the narrow beam scanned the edge of the forest until it landed on a pair of immobile feet.

Winona's heart leapt up into her throat, thinking for one terrible moment that she was about to see Crouch's corpse. But instead it was Krum, laid unconscious on the forest floor. Dumbledore bent down to check on the poor bloke.

"Stunned," he assured them, and Winona did nothing to hide her exhale of relief.

"Should I go and get someone?" Harry wondered anxiously. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," said Dumbledore, swift and stern. "Stay here, both of you."

Winona watched on in silence as Dumbledore sent a Patronus towards Hagrid's cabin. A silvery phoenix flew gracefully through the air, taking a message to Hagrid. Winona held Harry's hand tighter, feeling her throat go tight with panic. What were they in the middle of now?

Dumbledore leant over Krum and muttered the spell to revive him. Krum opened his eyes with a gasp, blinking up at the pitch-black night dazedly. He tried to sit up, but Dumbledore stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"He attacked me!" Krum grunted, putting a hand up to his head, which Winona assumed would be aching like a bitch right about now. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

Dumbledore didn't react. "Lie still for a moment," he ordered Krum sternly, and Krum fell obediently silent.

Hagrid reached them, Fang at his side and a large, threatening crossbow held in one massive hand. Winona stepped closer to Harry, both for her comfort and his protection. She was beginning to feel very much out of her depth.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid panted as he reached them. "Harry? Winona? What the-?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody —"

"No need, Dumbledore," came a wheezy growl, and Winona held up her wand in self-defence. She hadn't even realised she'd grabbed it, but there it was, held in her hand, the familiar wood warm and comforting against her skin. "I'm here."

Moody limped towards them, wand lit out in front of him, and Winona's body went tense as a shiver ran down her spine like ice. Something wasn't right – how had Moody known to be there? And why was every bone in her body screaming at her to curse him and run in the opposite direction?

"Damn leg," Moody was muttering furiously. "Would've been here quicker … what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch-"

"Crouch?" asked Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore ordered him sharply.

"Oh yeah … right y'are, Professor…" said Hagrid, hurrying off to complete his task. Winona watched him go, feeling rather like their best defence was leaving them. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen to them, she knew that, but she'd never describe the feeling he gave her as _safe._ And, well, she trusted Moody about as far as she could throw him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore was telling Moody in an undertone, "but it is _essential_ that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, but Winona didn't miss the way his magical eye was zeroed in on her. It made her feel dirty and she shuddered again, glaring at him defensively. He said nothing more as he limped his way back into the dark of the forest, the shadows swallowing him whole.

They heard Hagrid's heavy footsteps before they saw him, and soon he was bounding into sight, Fang and Karkaroff close on his heels. Winona held her wand tighter, keeping it held in front of her, ready to shoot off a curse and make a run for it at a moment's notice.

"What is this?" Karkaroff demanded hotly when he saw Krum on the ground in front of them all. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name —"

"Crouch attacked you? _Crouch_ attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began patiently, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid. The impish voice in Winona's head that sounded a hell of a lot like Fred wondered distantly who would win in a fight between the two of them, and she chastised herself for getting distracted.

"Treachery!" Karkaroff bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. He began to wail and moan all about the unfairness of the situation and how this was all a plot Dumbledore had cooked up in an effort to claim the Triwizard victory for himself. Winona turned to Harry, finding him to look similarly astonished, and it was comforting to know she wasn't the only one in a state of absolute shock.

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet and in one swift movement Hagrid had seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air and slammed him against a nearby tree. Winona's eyes went wide in shock, and Harry's grip on her hand tightened.

"Apologise!" Hagrid snarled in Karkaroff's face, massive fist wrapped around the man's slim throat. Winona wondered if she was about to watch Hagrid kill someone, but thankfully Dumbledore stepped in before it came to that. With a stern shout from him, Hagrid violently let go of Karkaroff, who fell to the ground and spluttered for air.

"Kindly escort Harry and Winona back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore ordered him sharply.

Hagrid tried to argue – and Winona couldn't blame him, seeing the hateful way Karkaroff was glaring up at their Headmaster – but Dumbledore wouldn't hear a word of it.

"You will take them back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry, Winona – I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do – any _owls_ you might want to send – they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

Winona realised with a spark of electricity in her veins that he was referring to Sirius. How did he know, she wondered? And what did that mean for Sirius' safety?

"Er – yes," said Harry, staring up at Dumbledore, just as dazed as if he'd been the one stunned.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid offered, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still huddled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots, rage on his ugly, sneering face. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, Harry. You too, Winona."

But Winona didn't move, staring at Dumbledore with hard eyes. "Are you sure you won't need-?" she began to ask, but he shook his head sternly. "But Crouch-"

"Go, Winona."

And so she did. Still holding onto Harry's hand like they were a pair of toddlers crossing the road, she let Hagrid lead them away. He ranted all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, growling about the foreigners and their wicked ways. He was in an all-around foul mood. Harry attempted conversation but eventually realised it was pointless.

They were glad to make their escape through the portrait hole, clamouring inside. It was late enough now that most of the usual traffic had disappeared from the common room. Instead there was just a smattering of fifth years cramming for OWLs, some first years on a sugar high from dinner, and Harry and Winona's closest friends sat at the table near the fire.

Fred, George, Hermione and Ron looked up as they entered, relief on their faces. Winona realised she was still holding Harry's hand – the action having been a complete afterthought for the both of them – and used it to pull him to a stop before he could make for their friends.

"You okay?" she asked him carefully.

Harry just nodded his head, but there was curiosity in his eyes. "You said Crouch was going to die," he said quietly. Winona was aware of her friends staring at them, but she ignored them in favour of watching Harry. "Do you know who's going to do it?"

Winona grimaced apologetically, and Harry knew the answer. "I tried, but all I got was that Crouch-"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. She didn't need to say it out loud again.

"I'd better let the twins in on what happened before they explode," she said quietly.

"First thing in the morning, I'm going to write to Sirius. Wanna come to the owlery with me?"

"Yeah, we'll go early. Meet you down here at daybreak?"

Harry agreed, and with that they made their way back over to the closest of their friends. The four of them were talking over themselves in a rush to get answers from the two of them. The cousins caught one another's eyes and nodded in agreement, Winona moving to grab the twins' hands and dragging them up to their dorm with a vague goodnight to Ron and Hermione over her shoulder.

"Well?" Fred was asking impatiently as she shoved her way into the boys' dorm.

Winona scanned the room. "Where's Lee?" she asked, not seeing their dreadlocked friend anywhere in sight. She loved the guy, but he wasn't at the level of friendship that included this kind of conversation.

"Snuck out to snog that Ravenclaw girl he's been seeing," George said, locking the door behind him and kicking off his shoes before collapsing onto his bed. Fred and Winona did the same, moving onto Fred's bed, sitting with their sides pressed together. "So go on," George prompted her. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy left nut was that all about?"

And so Winona recounted the night's activities to the both of them, telling them about how she'd had the vision of Crouch dying, then finding Dumbledore and then Harry, and Krum and Karkaroff and Hagrid's bad mood. It was exhausting, but she knew they wanted to whole story. Once she was finished the twins were frowning deeply.

"That's highly suspicious," said Fred from where he was toying idly with her hand, tracing nonsense shapes into her skin to keep himself occupied. "Any ideas who would want Crouch dead?"

"We don't know he's dead for _sure_," Winona argued.

The twins exchanged a glance. "Well, you haven't been wrong yet, love," said Fred amicably.

"Sure I have," she argued. "Plenty of times." They remained unconvinced, and she had to reevaluate. "Well, a couple of times. Okay, well, once or twice, at least. Right?" The twins said nothing, but they didn't have to. Winona sighed, slumping against Fred and shutting her eyes against this bullshit night. "I hate being a Seer."

Fred ran his hand down the length of her silvery hair. "You can't save everyone," he reminded her gently. "And maybe you aren't _meant_ to," he added. "Seems to me like you were there for Harry more than anything else."

She sat back so she could look up at his face. "How d'you mean?"

"Well, if you hadn't been there, he would've been alone," Fred told her. "It's a good thing you were with him, so he wasn't so afraid."

"Harry's a big boy, he can handle himself," she said distantly, not so sure he didn't have a point. Maybe the sake of her vision hadn't been to save Crouch – because he was right, some people there was just no hope of saving – maybe the sake of her vision had been to get her down there with Harry, so he wasn't alone.

If that was the case, she liked her visions now just a little bit more than she had before.

"Ah – but he's still just a _boy_," said Fred matter-of-factly.

Winona smirked up at him. "As opposed to you, a _man_," she teased.

Fred playfully puffed out his chest. "Well, if you say so."

"Ugh," George made a sound of deep disgust, flopping back onto his bed and turning his face into the closest pillow. "You two are disgusting."

"At least we don't clean our ears out with forks, mate," said Winona without missing a beat.

George lifted his head from his pillow long enough to glare at her. "That was one time, and I had an _itch_."

Winona just laughed, collapsing back onto Fred's bed and just letting herself breathe. The hectic part of the night was over, and now all she wanted was to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

"I'd better get back to my dorm," she murmured.

"_No_," Fred argued, throwing an arm over her middle and pulling her into his side. "Stay."

"I've stayed the last two nights, Fred," she rolled her eyes. "The girls are starting to suspect."

He made an adorable, scrunchy face. "Let them suspect."

Winona sighed, ducking in to press her lips briefly against his before pulling back and smiling. "I'm going," she said sternly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Kay," he reluctantly agreed. "Night, love."

Her heart felt full as she made her way back to the dorm. The girls were still awake, Angelina flipping through the newest edition of Witch Weekly, while Hope and Alicia were painting one another's nails.

"There you are," said Alicia when she padded in barefoot, her shoes held in one hand. "Want me to give you a coat?" she asked, holding up a bottle of magenta polish.

"Nah, I'm right," Winona told her. "Just tired. Gonna have a shower then pass out."

"Suit yourself," said Alicia, already distracted by something Angelina had spotted in her magazine. Winona escaped for a shower, letting the hot spray wash away the awfulness of her evening.

* * *

Winona woke just before sunrise, dressing in jeans and an old teeshirt. Pulling on the jumper Mrs Weasley had made her for Christmas and shoving her feet into some shoes, Winona crept from the dorm where her friends were all still sleeping, finding Harry and Ron stood by the fire in the common room, warming their hands at the hearth.

"Just waiting on Hermione," Ron explained around a yawn. Harry, on the other hand, didn't look anywhere near as tired. Winona figured the excitement of it all was serving as fuel. She hoped he got some decent rest before all that fuel burned out.

"Here," said Harry, pulling the note for Sirius out of his pocket. "Wanna add anything?"

Winona took the note to read.

_Snuffles, _

_Ran into Mr Crouch last night. He looked like he hadn't bathed in a month and he was talking absolute nonsense. I think something was seriously wrong. He mentioned something about Bertha – seemed to think she was dead – and said he wanted to warn Dumbledore about something. It was really weird. I went to get Dumbledore and found Winnie already there. She'd had a vision, said she saw Crouch getting killed! By the time we all got down to the forest where I'd left Crouch, he was gone and Krum – who I'd left watching him – had been stunned. _

_Nobody knows where Crouch is now, but I thought I'd let you know, see what you thought. I think Crouch knows something important, and I think whatever he wanted to warn Dumbledore about was serious._

_Hope to see you soon; did you need any more food?_

_-Harry_

Winona took out a quill from her bag and added a postscript in her own handwriting.

_Yes, I saw Crouch die. Yes, it's going to happen, or perhaps already has. No, I don't know who kills him. I just know it's bad. Please stay safe._

_-Winnie_

Hermione came tiptoeing down the stairs just as the sun broke out from behind the distant mountains, shining its golden light down on the castle and its grounds. As they walked down to the owlery, Ron and Hermione threw out theories about what might have happened in the time Harry had been away fetching Dumbledore. Harry wasn't listening, lagging behind with Winona.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked him quietly as they walked.

"We stayed up most of the night talking about Mr. Crouch and what it could have all meant," he confessed. "Then once we actually went to bed, I couldn't stop thinking long enough to fall asleep."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I was the same."

"What'd the twins think?"

"Fred's theory was that I only had the vision so I could be there to support you," she told him. "It makes sense, considering I didn't get it in time to do anything but show up and hold your hand."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Do you really think being there to _support_ me is a good enough reason to get a vision?"

Winona rolled her eyes. "It's not like I get to pick and choose."

"Where do you think they come from?" he wondered. "The visions?"

"I dunno. I call it the Powers That Be, or sometimes the aether. But whatever it may be, I'm just glad it knows where my priorities lie," she said, bumping him companionably with her shoulder. Harry smiled, genuine if not a little distant. She understood, the kid had a lot on his mind.

They reached the owlery and Winona fetched a small, tawny barn owl with great big eyes and a nippy beak. Harry cautiously attached the note, and the four of them watched as the owl took off into the sky, carrying their letter to Sirius across the bounds of Hogwarts and out to the mountains beyond.

"Just go through it again, Harry," said Hermione with maddening patience. "What did Mr. Crouch actually say?"

Harry once more relayed everything Crouch had muttered during their brief, oddly timed meeting. Winona listened halfheartedly, leaning her weight against the wall and watching the oncoming day with a blank expression.

"Shh," Hermione hushed the boys abruptly, and Winona realised it was because there were people coming up the stairs towards them. Whoever they were, they were talking loudly, clearly thinking nobody was around to hear, and Winona recognised the voices in an instant.

"-that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-"

"-we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did-"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

The owlery door banged open to reveal Fred and George, both pink cheeked from the walk up the stairs. They froze at the sight of them all standing there, and the pinkness abruptly drained from Fred's face as he caught Winona's eyes, going pale in an instant.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred asked at the exact same time.

"Sending a letter," answered Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.

Were this not the most suspicious she'd ever been, Winona might have laughed at how ridiculous it all was. But as it was, the twins were very obviously keeping something big from her – something involving blackmail, apparently – and she felt an indignant hurt beginning to burn deep in her chest.

George held up his hands as if in surrender. "Fine – we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us."

Fred was holding a sealed envelope in his hands, but when Winona tried to glance at the name on the front, he deliberately shifted it out of the way so she couldn't see. The hurt began to build into a fire of ire, and she crossed her arms over her chest, face closing off entirely. Fred winced, knowing nothing good would follow.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said anyway, making a mock bow and pointing at the door, trying to regain some of his cool. But the way his eyes kept shifting to Winona was telling, and she didn't let up her glare, features sharpened into a dangerous scowl.

None of them moved, stuck in some inexplicable face-off. "Who're you blackmailing?" Ron demanded, taking the words right from Winona's mouth.

"Funny," she said with a calm that masked a storm of rage. "I was just wondering the exact same thing."

Ron's jaw dropped open. "You mean _you _don't even know?" he asked, sounding almost scandalised, like the thought of the twins keeping something from Winona went against everything he thought he'd known about the universe.

The fake-lively smile on Fred's face dropped away, and George glanced between them all uneasily. "Don't be stupid," George said with the kind of ease that came from years upon years of straight-faced lying, "I was only joking."

Nobody was convinced. "Didn't sound like that," argued Ron.

The twins stared at each other a moment, communicating silently. Then Fred turned to his brother with a frown, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but-"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," said Ron. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Told you, I was joking," George rolled his eyes like Ron was acting childishly. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

Ron spluttered like he'd just been ruthlessly insulted. "No, I won't!"

Winona was paying them no attention, her eyes fixed on only Fred. He was staring back at her stubbornly, but he couldn't mask the unease from his eyes – she knew him far too well. George sent the barn owl off to deliver their letter, but Winona didn't look away from her boyfriend.

"Well, stop telling people what to do then," George told Ron cheerfully.

Silence befell them, ringing in the owlery like a gunshot. The tension between Winona and Fred was reaching unbearable levels, and the others all glanced between one another unsurely.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she finally asked Fred, voice hard as diamond, and just as pretty.

"Like what?" Fred asked coyly.

It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew he knew so by the way he winced once it was out of his mouth. She arched a single brow at him, the rage simmering under her skin was changing, turning into something she desperately didn't want to be hurt. But she couldn't help it, it was there. He'd hurt her.

Whatever this was, she knew it was the same thing they'd been keeping from her ever since the start of first term. She'd forgotten all about it once Fred and her had gotten together. That's what love does, she supposed. It made you forget the bad, especially when you really shouldn't.

"I see," she said, perfectly dispassionate. It was hardly the cussing out she wanted to give them, but it made Fred flinch all the same. She turned her head to look at Harry and his friends, all of whom looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I'll see you later, kids," she told them, not even bothering to tack on a smile.

With a flip of her moonshine hair she left the owlery, not so much as glancing in the twins' direction.

She heard the sound of someone getting hit, then a deep voice cursing, before Fred was calling her name and rushing after her. She ignored him, arms crossed over her chest as she marched her way down the stairs, intent on heading for breakfast to gather a hoard of food before she spent the morning sketching in some dark corner where the twins – hopefully – wouldn't be able to find her.

But Fred was determined, jogging to meet her pace, gripping her arm to try and stop her. She ignored him, shrugging off his hand and stomping onwards.

"Win – come on," he said. She didn't so much as glance his way, too furious to even look at him. "Win," he tried again. They reached flat ground and he took the opportunity to grip her elbow, spinning her around to face him.

"Unless you're going to tell me whatever it is you've been keeping from me, I have nothing to say to you," she told him coldly.

He lifted a hand to his shaggy red hair. "Win, you just – you wouldn't understand."

The rage in Winona's chest went silent, but not in a good way. "Excuse me?"

George, who had very reluctantly followed after them, stopped a few feet away and winced in sympathy for his pathetic brother. Fred also seemed to realise just how wrong of a thing that was to say, face twisting in a grimace.

"Shit, no," he said quickly, "I just meant-"

"I don't really care what you meant, Fred," she snapped, voice sharp like the tip of a dagger. Fred flinched at the sound of it. "Tell me the truth, right now," she said, an olive branch.

He could be honest with her now and she'd let it all go. But Fred didn't jump at the chance like she'd thought he would. Instead he glanced uneasily to George, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"If I have to get the answer out of your brother instead of you, Fred, I swear to _Merlin_…" she warned him.

"It's – it's complicated," he insisted, panic in his eyes. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him. Almost.

"Then I'm done talking to you," she snapped, spinning on her heel. She left Fred stood in the hallway, staring after her, George glowering at him in irritation and Winona not so much as glancing back.

Winona went about the school day as normal. She had Charms that morning, and for the first time in a long time – possibly ever – she sat on the opposite side of the room to Fred. Hope looked perplexed by her decision to sit beside her for once, but she didn't argue, just helped a distant Winona go over the theory on the board.

After double Charms was lunch, and Winona sat with Harry, Ron and Hermione rather than her usual group. Her friends were all staring after her in confusion, and she felt Fred's stare like a laser on the back of her head, but she ignored it all, eating her sandwich and halfheartedly listening to Ron moan about his Transfiguration essay.

"Winnie?" Harry asked tentatively, and Winona realised somebody had asked her something, but she'd been too distracted to notice.

"Huh?"

Hermione gave a sympathetic click of her tongue. "This Fred thing really has you rattled, doesn't it?" she asked quietly. Harry and Ron were all too eager to engage one another in a lively discussion about the History of Magic class they'd just had.

Winona leaned across the table, dropping down her walls for once. Because if she didn't talk to someone about this, she might very well just start screaming right there in the middle of the Great Hall.

"We don't keep secrets," she said, voice low so some nearby second-years wouldn't overhear. "We never have."

Hermione looked doubtful. "Never?"

And Winona had to reconsider. "Well, there have been one or two over the years," she admitted. "But recently … I mean, they've all been out in the open. I have no more secrets, but they have this one from me. It isn't fair," she paused, chewing on her bottom lip. "I know that sounds childish, but it's true. It _isn't_ fair."

Hermione considered her carefully. "Have you tried telling him that?"

"Ugh, I don't even want to _look_ at him right now," Winona said darkly, "much less speak to him."

The younger student looked back at her with pity. "You'll feel better once you talk about it," she promised.

And Winona absolutely knew she was right, but wasn't she entitled to at least a little bit of sulking? She was hurt, the pain simmering under her skin like soup put to boil. Winona's darkest secret, the dirtiest of her laundry – Jeremiah Nott – had been aired for the twins to see completely. But when the roles were reversed, they didn't have the courage – the _decency_ – to do the same?

It was rude, and callous, and thoughtless, and above all, it was selfish. She was offended. Did they think she'd see them differently? Did they think she couldn't handle whatever it was? Because surely they knew her better than that.

Glancing inconspicuously up the table, Winona saw George being his usual self – making shapes out of the crusts of the sandwiches and using his wand to make them float in the air like balloons at a parade – but Fred was sat with his chin resting on his fist, eyes distant and unseeing. Good; Winona hoped he was suffering.

She remembered all the times she'd caught them talking – it was clear by now that this was all on Fred. Whatever it was they were keeping from her, George had wanted to tell her. She remembered hearing him trying to convince Fred to tell her more than once. But Fred had argued against it every time. This was entirely Fred's doing.

Walking to her Care of Magical Creatures class that afternoon, Winona kicked at loose pebbles on the path, her insides a storm of indecision.

What did this mean for her and Fred's relationship? She didn't want to break up with him, but if he couldn't be honest with her, what was the point in staying together? If he didn't come clean, would she be able to get past this? Something told her she wouldn't.

By the time she reached Hagrid's Hut for Care of Magical Creatures, most of the class was already there. George had dropped the elective after OWLs, so it was only Fred and Lee in the class with her. Fred was staring at her from across Hagrid's lawn, but Winona ignored him, facing Hagrid and listening to his talk on Acromantulas as though it were the most fascinating thing she'd ever heard.

Some of the girls in the class squealed when Hagrid pulled a handful of spiders from his pocket like someone might take out a small pile of Galleons. Winona rolled her eyes and picked one of the spiders up, halfheartedly listening to the rest of Hagrid's lecture and demonstration.

Finally the class was over, and Hagrid assigned them an essay on Acromantulas before dismissing them. Winona wasted no time in shouldering her satchel and heading back up towards the castle.

She was disappointed – but certainly not surprised – when a hand caught her elbow halfway there and tugged her off the main path.

"Fred," she huffed in exasperation as he began to pull her towards a nearby courtyard. Thankfully it was empty of students, and the moment Fred slowed to a stop she tore her arm out of his grip. Fred whirled around on her, a wild look in his eyes.

"I need to talk to you."

"You can't just kidnap me because I suddenly won't give you the time of day," she scolded him, but it was water off a duck's back for all the good it did.

"How else am I supposed to get you to talk to me?"

Winona scowled. "And on that note-" she said, turning abruptly away, stalking in the direction of the Great Hall. Fred cursed from behind her, jogging to keep up, leaping out in front of her to keep her from leaving. "Really, Fred," she huffed. "Now you're being childish."

"You have to talk to me," he said, refusing to give. "I won't let you leave without hearing me out."

"Unless you're going to come clean along with a hell of a good reason as to why you lied at all, then there's nothing to talk about."

Fred pressed his lips into a hard line and turned away, seeming to take a moment to centre himself. Winona watched him, teeth grinding with frustration. "Okay," Fred finally said, tugging absentmindedly at his red hair as he looked back at her, blue eyes cloudy with regret. "I fucked up."

She didn't really feel like listening to him, even if he was going to explain. But he deserved a chance to say his piece – and okay, maybe a part of her didn't want a reason to be angry with him anymore. So, despite the urge to punch him in the stomach and run, Winona reluctantly stayed where she was, arms crossed over her chest, and listened.

"Um, I don't know where to even begin," Fred said helplessly.

"Well, I suggest you figure it out quickly," she replied. Fred winced at the ice in her tone.

"Okay, so, you know the Quidditch World Cup? When George and I bet all our savings on your prediction?"

She wasn't sure what his plan was, bringing up the one other thing that had made her utterly furious with him in recent memory, but he seemed to be gaining momentum, so she didn't bother stopping him.

"Well, when Bagman paid us our winnings…he did it in Leprechaun gold," Fred confessed. "It was gone by the next morning."

Winona said nothing, staring at him appraisingly, waiting for more. Fred's throat dipped as he swallowed.

"We've been trying to make him pay us what he owes us all year, but it's been near impossible to get him alone. The thing with the note we were sending him this morning – it was a last-ditch effort to get our gold back."

She still didn't speak, inscrutable as she stared at him, arms crossed, finger tapping an uneven beat against her elbow. She reminded herself of McGonagall when she was cross – which was probably why Fred looked about as white as a sheet, staring into her hard face.

"I didn't want to tell you because – well, you were already so cross with us for betting in the first place, I knew you'd be _ropable_ when you found out we'd lost every last Galleon. I was…scared," he confessed, mouth twisting like the words tasted foul on his tongue.

She understood – it was a cold day in hell when a Weasley twin admitted to being afraid. She still didn't speak and Fred swallowed again, looking vulnerable under her diamond-hard stare.

"I should have told you from the beginning – George wanted me to – but I just…I guess I was also kind of embarrassed," he told her slowly. "That was all of our savings – everything we were putting away for the shop. And now it's gone, and I'm even poorer than I was before this whole mess. I don't have so much as a Sickle to my name."

And Winona's ire vanished into thin air. She just stared at Fred, the anger gone from her eyes. He stared back, uncomfortably vulnerable, like his insides were laid out bare before her. She carefully considered what to say, her restlessly tapping finger slowing to a stop.

"Do you really think I'm so shallow?" she finally asked, voice still edged with steel; because barriers, once put up, were rather difficult to take back down.

Fred's eyes went wide. "No, of course not."

"Then why do you think I'd care about the money?" she demanded. "Fred, up until last year, I was an orphan. I live on a small pity-pension from the Ministry, and most of my clothes come from secondhand stores I find in the city. And even besides all that, I know you. I know your entire family. I've been to your bloody house. I know everything about how you live, and how your family does it tough – so, why should that all of a sudden mean a so much as a _damn_ _thing_ to me?"

It came out of her in rather an explosive fashion. Fred stared at her, taken aback, and she was just as stunned. But she couldn't help it – he'd offended her by thinking she could do anything less than accept him and love him exactly as he was, and always had been.

The clouded wariness in Fred's eyes began to clear, giving way to regret. "I should've told you," he said quietly, apologetic.

"Yes," she agreed. "You should have."

Fred reached up to tug at a lock of his shaggy hair. "I'm sorry."

And Winona really, _really_ didn't want to fight with him anymore. She was done being resentful and hurt. She saw, now, why he'd kept it from her. And even though his reasoning was stupid and flawed, she understood. And that was enough for her.

"Okay," she said softly, the word nearly lost in the gust of wind that billowed through the otherwise empty courtyard. "All right," she tried again. "I forgive you."

Fred raised his head, hope igniting in his cornflower eyes. "Yeah?"

Winona smiled, a little bit tired, but mostly genuine. "Yeah."

He slowly, inch by inch, closed the chasm of space between them. His hands tentatively reached for hers, and she let him thread their fingers together, feeling a rush of relief she wouldn't admit to be touching him again.

"Good," Fred sighed, seeming just as relieved. "I _really_ don't like it when you're cross with me."

Winona smiled, using their intertwined hands to tug him closer. "No more secrets," she said, staring up into his eyes, hopeful. Because if that wasn't something he could promise her, then she wasn't sure they could keep doing this. She didn't voice it aloud, but she thought maybe he knew, could see it in her eyes. "Promise?"

Fred was quick to agree. "No more secrets," he vowed, then bent his head and sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Winona looked up from her eggs when she heard Harry calling her name from further down the table. "I'll be back," she told Alicia and Angelina, who were complaining about the shitty grade Snape had given their recent Potions essays.

Harry was holding a hastily written letter in familiar loopy handwriting, and Winona shoved Ron aside so she could settle into place beside her cousin to read Sirius' note.

Most of the note was Sirius admonishing Harry for loitering out in the dark with Viktor Krum (_You could have been killed_, he wrote furiously, _I want you to swear by return owl that you won't stray out of bounds again!_)

At the bottom of his rant to Harry was a Postscript for her, and she took the letter from her cousin's hands to read it more closely.

_And Winona, don't tell anyone except the people you trust most what you've seen; and even then, exercise extreme caution. I'm safe as I can be – please, for me, keep yourself safe too._

It was a shocking reminder of the betrayal of Peter Pettigrew, one of Sirius' closest friends back before Voldemort rose to power. Winona stared down at the warning, trying to imagine what it must have been like to have somebody he'd thought of as a brother betray him like that.

It was almost unthinkable.

She handed the letter back to Harry, who was already frustratedly complaining about Sirius' order to stay out of trouble.

"He has a point, Harry," Winona told him sternly. "The last thing you need is to get abducted and tortured by those Death Eaters from the World Cup. Besides, with what happened to Krum and Crouch, I'd think you'd wanna be more careful than usual."

Harry scowled but otherwise didn't argue. She knew he was just frustrated – and it was a little rich, being told to be careful by somebody who was such a trouble magnet he was locked away in Azkaban for twelve years. But Winona agreed with Sirius – Harry needed to stay out of sight.

There was, however, one instruction his Godfather had given him that Harry was eager to follow.

_Practise stunning and disarming. A few hexes won't go astray either._

"You've got to know plenty of defence techniques," said Hermione a few nights later, the three fourth years plopping down beside her on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. "Harry could use all the help he can get."

Harry frowned sourly, but he went ignored.

"Do you think you could meet us at lunch tomorrow in the empty Charms classroom?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"I don't know what good you think I'll be," Winona said.

"Well, didn't you get an O in Defence last year?" Ron asked.

"Uh, no," she corrected him. "I got an E."

"Still," argued Hermione. "You're nearly finished sixth year. You'll know plenty more than us."

Nobody had ever asked her to tutor them before, so Winona was understandably taken aback. "Well, I mean, I'm no expert…"

"Lunch, in the Charms classroom," said Hermione forcefully. "We'll see you there."

With that she stood to her feet, taking Ron with her. Harry lingered behind, shooting her an apologetic grimace. "Thanks for this, Winnie," he said gratefully. "If I have to be stuck indoors, at least I can get some practise in."

And her indecision melted. Of course she was going to help him – she doubted there was much he could ask for that she wouldn't give. "No problem, Boy-Wonder," she told him with an easy smile.

Harry followed after his friends, disappearing into the crowd of Gryffindors. It was Lee's birthday, and the twins had thrown one of their typical parties, complete with a table of scrumptious food straight from the kitchens and a wireless in the corner playing the latest Weird Sisters album.

Fred and George appeared, three butterbeers between them. Winona took the third from a grinning Fred, rolling her eyes as he clinked their bottles together ceremoniously.

"What'd the Golden Trio want?" Fred asked as he collapsed into the spot Harry had just vacated. George propped himself up on the armrest, smirking into his butterbeer.

"Tutoring," she told them.

"Tutoring?" George parroted. "What, from _you_?"

Winona glared. "Thanks, George," she said dryly, her annoyance thick. George just raised his bottle in playful salute. "Snuffles wants him to practise some defence techniques. Hermione just coerced me into helping."

"You do shoot a mean hex," Fred told her encouragingly.

And he was right. She might not have been a stand out student in her DADA class, but when it came to painful, wicked hexes – well, she kind of took the biscuit. Winona leaned into her boyfriend's side, a smile playing at her mouth.

"George!" came Katie's voice, and the three turned to see their younger friend stumbling towards them, a glazed look in her eyes that made Winona wonder just how many butterbeers into the night she was. "I love this song! You _have_ to come dance with me!"

George grinned, taking a large gulp of butterbeer as if for courage before depositing his bottle onto the coffee table and leaping eagerly to his feet. He met Katie in the middle, and Winona laughed as she tripped into him, the pair beginning to twirl uncoordinatedly about the common room.

"Wanna dance?" Fred whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear, and Winona's stomach twisted in on itself like the best kind of Devil's Snare.

And there were plenty of reasons why she should say no; the fact that it wasn't public knowledge they were together, just to start. But Winona was getting tired of acting one way in public, then sneaking around and acting differently in private. She'd done enough of that in her time with Jeremiah, and it was getting old, fast.

Fred hadn't pushed, not even a little, which had surprised her. But he'd been wonderfully patient, and guilt was beginning to prickle under her skin. There were two of them in this relationship. She had to consider what he wanted, too. And she knew he wanted to come out with the truth to their friends.

So Winona put down her butterbeer and took his hand. "Absolutely," she told him, pulling him to his feet. He blinked in shock, having fully expected her to say no. Then he grinned, wide and bright and enough to make her heart skip a beat, and she led him into the middle of the crowd of partying Gryffindors and began to dance.

He wasn't the best dancer in the world, more clumsy than anything else, too lanky to be considered graceful. But to Winona it was perfect, she laughed as he twirled and twirled her under his arm, spinning her until she was dizzy, then just a little bit more.

They stopped for more butterbeer to find Lee eagerly handing out shots of the firewhisky he'd smuggled into the school to some of the older students.

She raised her eyebrow when Fred took two of the shots from him, handing one off to her with a wicked grin. "We're adults, now," he reminded her, and she certainly couldn't fault his logic. She took it from him with a laugh, tossing back the shot like a pro. It burned the whole way down, but in a good way, leaving Winona with an echoing kind of buzz that was instant in the way Muggle alcohol wasn't.

They both took one more shot – easily ignoring Hermione's disapproving glower from where she sat doing homework in the corner – before linking hands and winding their way back into the centre of the room where most of their House was still dancing.

People grew indistinct, and Winona felt time become fluid, but not in the way it did when she fell into a vision. Rather it was like time was passing differently, somehow both slower and faster at the same time. And it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

She wasn't sure who was tugging at who, but soon enough she and Fred had made it through the throng of students to the foot of the boys' staircase. His pupils were blown and he had a lazy grin on his lips, and her instinct was to kiss them to see how it tasted.

He seemed to sense that what was going to follow wasn't for anybody else's eyes, and Fred's lazy grin turned wicked as he gripped her hand, tugging her quickly and quietly up the stairs. They giggled together as they slipped through the door to his room, and Winona did a quick scan of the beds.

George and Lee were still downstairs, the dorm blessedly empty. Pleased, Winona turned and leapt onto Fred. He grunted under her attack, but caught her all the same, laughing as she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, clinging to him like a tree frog.

"Alone at last," she hummed gleefully.

"Somebody seems eager," Fred laughed.

"Firewhisky agrees with me," was her only explanation as she pushed herself higher up his body and pressed her lips against his. He chuckled against her lips but just as quickly fell silent, hands falling to her backside to hold her up – an action to which she certainly wasn't complaining.

He walked towards his bed, but with his eyes shut to kiss her he misjudged the distance and hit the edge of his bed frame with a cracking sound as his shin collided with the wood. He pulled back to exclaim in pain, dropping Winona onto his bed as a reflex. She hit the mattress with a bounce, holding her hands to her stomach as she laughed.

"Oh, shut up," said Fred, hopping up and down on one foot, hands holding his bruised shin.

She just kept laughing, a feeling lighter than air in her blood, making her feel like she might just float away with the force of it. Fred chuckled too, ignoring his leg in favour of hopping onto the bed with her, crawling up her body and grinning down at her while she giggled like a little kid on a sugar high.

Fred continued to stare, grinning like an idiot, and her laughter slowed under his gaze. "What?" she giggled, her fingertips toying with the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, dancing across the sliver of skin exposed there.

"You just look really cute when you laugh," he said it like it were a simple truth of the universe.

Winona smiled, aware that happiness was sparkling in her eyes, but not caring enough to try and act cooler. She lifted her leg to curl it around his waist, gripping hold of his collar and pulling him towards her as he settled into the angle made by her open thighs.

"Would you shut up and kiss me?" she said, nearly desperate with the need to have his lips on hers. Fred beamed before swooping down to kiss her thoroughly.

For an indeterminable amount of time they stayed wrapped up in one another, groping and kissing languidly, Fred hovering over her deliciously, careful not to crush her with his weight. But eventually even that grew boring, and Winona wanted more.

By unspoken agreement, they'd been waiting before taking their relationship to the next level. For Winona, it was about crossing an invisible line. Spending nights snogging in shadowed corners of the castle was all well and good, but sex? Sex complicated things.

Winona didn't want any complications. But she wanted Fred enough that the complications were a price she was willing to pay.

She took the first step, tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his torso. It got tangled around his shoulders and Fred snorted in amusement at her stubborn determination to get it over his head. He sat up to help her, tossing the shirt onto the floor and hovering back over her, trailing his lips over the length of her collarbone as her hands wandered his back.

He was broad and strong from his years playing as Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and as her fingertips danced down to his arms, Winona did nothing to hold in the way her breath hitched.

"Feel something you like?" Fred asked playfully, words muffled in the hollow of her throat.

"I have a thing for arms," she confessed without so much as a hint of inhibition. This was Fred, the person she felt most comfortable with in the whole world. If she couldn't admit to him what turned her on, then what was the point?

"Arms in general, or mine specifically?" he wondered in between nibbles at her pulse point.

"Yours specifically," she told him breathlessly. "They do something to me."

Fred pulled back from her neck, eyes dancing with a mixture of lust and amusement as he stared down at her. "And what is it they do, exactly?"

Now it was her turn to grin impishly. "You're about to find out," she promised him, then in one smooth move flipped them over. Fred let out a very un-manly yelp as he was rolled onto his back, blinking up at her in a daze as she settled into place over his hips and reached for the top button of her old flannel, undoing it with a flick of her fingers.

Fred's pupils were blown wide, hands holding the jut of her hips, fingertips pressing into her skin hard enough that they would probably leave small bruises, but Winona didn't care. The flannel fell from her shoulders, exposing the white bra she was wearing underneath. Fred's eyes trailed down over her body, soaking her in like a sunflower devoured the sunlight.

Winona grinned once more, like the happiness literally wouldn't allow itself to remain hidden. She leant back down over him, her blonde hair falling on either side of his face, a curtain blocking out the rest of the world. Winona thought to herself that she would have stayed in this little piece of reality with him for the rest of her life, should she get the chance.

She kissed him again, and it was different to all the kisses they'd shared in the past. Somehow deeper; weightier. She felt all of him – the burning heat of his bare skin on hers, the hard line of him straining in his trousers, pressing against her. Her breath hitched again as he rocked into her with a small groan, and she pulled away from him to take a necessary gulp of air.

"We should, uh, probably slow down," Fred muttered dazedly, highly unconvincing to her ears.

Winona cocked her head to the side. "Why?"

Fred blinked. "I don't have a good answer."

"Well then, how about we don't?"

"Yeah," he agreed, just as breathless as her. "Sounds good to me."

She laughed into their next kiss, the sound turning into a yip of surprise when he flipped them over again, pressing her hard into the mattress, mouth travelling along the column of her throat and down over the generous cleavage exposed by her bra. Somewhere in the back of her head, Winona thanked the stars she was wearing her cutest one, but the thought was banished when Fred took a section of her firm breast and bit down.

Winona let out a mewling sound that seemed to go straight to Fred's crotch, if the way it twitched against her was any indication. She raked her nails down the length of his spine, then hooked her fingers into the waistband of his holey old jeans.

"Off," she ordered him stubbornly as she rolled her hips against him once, the friction of their zippers making the air leave her lungs in a huff.

Fred shut his eyes a moment, as if trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. Winona smirked smugly, tugging at his jeans. "Are you sure, Win?" he asked once he'd gotten control of himself.

The look she gave him was positively wicked. "I'm not a blushing virgin, Fred," she reminded him as she danced her fingers along the waistband until she found the button at the front, undoing it with a flick of her wrist. "Take the trousers off and get down to business already."

Now it was Fred's turn to smirk. "Impatient?"

She refused to feel self-conscious. "We've waited long enough," she told him bluntly. "I need you."

Fred had to shut his eyes again, and she took the opportunity to shove his jeans over his waist and kick them down his legs with her feet. He pressed against her properly now, with only her jeans and his boxers to separate them, and when she glanced down to sneak a peek, Winona was taken aback to find a pair of novelty boxers on his hips.

Fred opened his eyes at the sound of her surprised laughter, confused, only for his cheeks to turn pink when he realised what she was giggling at.

"_Golden Snitch underwear_?" she asked him incredulously through her peals of bright amusement.

"They were a gag gift from Charlie," he said defensively, clearly wishing he'd put on any other item of underwear that morning. "What, you don't think they're sexy?" he asked, struggling to recover.

Winona pretended to take a moment to think about it, pressing a finger to the small dimple in her chin. "No, no," she told him with exaggerated sincerity, "I think they're _very_ hot."

Fred arched an eyebrow, seeming to regain some of his swagger. "Well, now it's only fair I get to see yours," he said, surprisingly smooth.

Winona laughed again – strange, because there had never been this much laughter during sex with Jeremiah. In fact, she was quite sure she'd never laughed with him even once. She'd never thought she would find laughter particularly sexy, but something about being half naked with Fred and still finding things to giggle about made her feel more at ease than anything else ever had.

She went for the latch of her jeans, unbuttoning it and then dragging down her zipper. The moment they were loose, Fred climbed off her body, giving himself the leverage he needed to tug them down her legs.

Winona wasn't the tallest girl in their grade – and as it was, Fred had at least a few inches on her, being nearly six foot himself – but her legs were long and smooth, thanks to the magical hair removal cream Alicia ordered every few months from an advertisement in Witch Weekly. She shared it around the dorm like they shared everything else, and Winona had never been so glad.

Once her jeans were on the floor, Fred crawled back onto the bed. But instead of climbing back over her, he started low at her feet, kissing his way leisurely up her leg. His fingers tickled at the spot behind her knee, and she laughed against as he lavished attention to the top of her thighs, then the waistband of her underwear – deep blue, not at all matching her bra, but she got the distinct impression that Fred didn't care.

Chills broke out across her sensitive areas and her pale skin had flushed a pretty pink. Fred crawled back up her body just as she shucked off her bra. His eyes went wide at the sight of her laid before him, bare but for the scrap of fabric between her legs, but she was too impatient to let him have his fill of the view, gripping him by the hair and pulling him back down onto her to seal their lips together in a wet, needy kiss.

There was nothing at all separating them except the thin material of their underwear, and Winona was very suddenly aware of exactly how intimate they were. Somehow Fred – wonderful, magical, intuitive Fred – seemed to sense her abrupt attitude shift. He pulled back from her lips, one hand threaded through her loose hair, the other resting on her hip.

"All right?" he asked, breathless and glassy-eyed but concerned all the same.

"Just realising that we're actually, properly _doing_ this," she whispered.

Fred smirked. "Well, we're not doing it _just_ yet," he said with a meaningful glance down at their underwear.

She slapped him on the shoulder in playful reprimand. "I just mean…what if you regret this?" she asked, hating herself for pulling them from the mood, but needing to say it aloud. "What if this happens, and we decide it was a terrible mistake?" she asked, feeling disarmingly vulnerable.

But Fred didn't seem frustrated by her concerns, if anything he looked tender as he detangled his hand from her hair only to brush the backs of his fingers down the length of her flushed face.

"Win, this will never be a mistake," he told her with such belief, such _conviction_, that she automatically believed him. "I've wanted you for so long that I've forgotten what it was like _not_ to."

The raw, simple honesty of the statement made her body go still, and he was staring down at her with such _love_ that she found it difficult to breathe.

"If you want to stop, we will," he promised her. "But if this is what you want, too…I'm all in."

But the doubts were beginning to swim in her head, making her dizzy with the force of it. "But what if it's bad?" she wondered desperately. "What if we don't…_fit_?"

This time when Fred smirked it was confident and smug and so goddamn _sexy _that she felt her insides clench with the need to have him inside of her. "Trust me, love," he said smoothly, "I'll fit you just right."

And maybe it was going to be a complete mistake, and maybe they'd wake up tomorrow morning and regret this whole thing and not be able to look one another in the face for a solid week. But _fuck_ if she didn't want it so bad she was willing to risk it all.

So Winona just kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth as she impatiently tugged down his ridiculous boxer shorts and yanked stubbornly at her own knickers. As she was kicking the last of their clothes to the floor, Fred had just enough sanity left to reach for his wand, discarded on the bedside table next to hers.

With a flick of his wrist and a muttered spell, her abdomen felt hot for a moment before the feeling faded, the Contraceptive Charm in full effect. This was it – they were doing this, crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, no matter the magic at their disposal. Winona felt suddenly exposed, and she decided in a flash that if they really were about to seal the deal, she was going to be in full control when they did.

She pushed at Fred and he obediently fell back onto his unmade covers. Without pause Winona hitched her leg over his hip and settled down over him. They pressed together in the most intimate way and Fred let out a groan at the feel of her, hot and wet, against him.

"You ready?" she asked him without thought, hands pressed against his sternum, hips rolling into his because she physically couldn't keep from moving. Her skin buzzed and her vision was hazy – no doubt in part from the firewhisky, but mostly she was just drunk off Fred.

"I have literally never been more ready for anything in my entire life," he told her plainly, and she really shouldn't have been surprised that he could make her laugh even then.

Positioning him at her entrance, Winona waited a second, savouring the moment before everything changed, then took a deep breath and sank onto him. Fred let out a small squeak at the feeling, and Winona exhaled sharply at the feeling of being so completely filled.

Fred was right – it was a tight fit, but fit he did. It took Winona a few long minutes of slowly working herself onto him, allowing herself time to adjust. She could tell Fred was struggling not to move, but he held himself still, watching her with awe in his lovely cornflower stare.

"Good?" she whispered.

Fred's Adam's apple dipped as he gulped, and Winona followed the movement with her eyes. "Yeah," he whispered back, hands still gripping her hips tightly enough to bruise.

She braced her hands on his broad, firm chest and began to move. Then they were lost in a sea of moans and heaving breathing, sweat and an ever-building tension that twisted her insides into knots and made her head go dizzy.

The way he stared up at her made her skin feel like it were boiling, but in a good way. Unable to stand his eyes fixed on her like she was all he could see, Winona bent over his body and fused their mouths together.

Fred flipped them unexpectedly, but Winona was too lost in sensation to care. It was different to how it had been with Jeremiah. This wasn't just sex – this was something entirely new. She didn't know how to describe it, but it was almost like Fred wasn't just inside her body – it was like he was inside her _soul._

She had the feeling of being known, of being felt and seen and consumed so entirely. But instead of frightening her, it made her pleasure more intense. The sounds that came from her mouth were foreign to her, and Fred swallowed them into himself, hands holding her close to him like he never wanted to be parted from her again.

He changed angles and slid against her in a particularly wonderful way, and Winona gasped, gripping him tighter. "Good?" he whispered into her mouth.

"_Oh_ yeah," she replied feverishly.

Fred laughed, but the sound quickly dissolved into a groan when she raked her nails down the length of his spine. Her nails were short – kept that way because there was less room for them to get dirty from charcoal and paint – but they were long enough to leave marks, and apparently Fred liked the feeling, so she did it again, making him gasp against her.

"Faster," she begged him, bowing her body against him, hips tilting at just the right angle. Fred complied and Winona's pleasure began to build. She moved her free hand to her centre, rubbing impatiently at her clit, trying to get there quicker, but Fred wasn't having any of it.

He batted her hand away, replacing it with his own. She threw her head back and moaned, toes curling when Fred lavished her throat with attention. The tension in her nerves built and built, and soon she was on the edge like she never had been before. Coming from her mouth was just a constant run of Fred's name, and he seemed to be whispering something into her skin, but she was too gone to hear any of it.

The world exploded into white, and Winona bit down on Fred's shoulder to keep from crying out her pleasure. Wave after wave she came, still scratching at Fred's shoulder blades, mewling quietly. Eventually she went boneless, and it took Fred only a few moments before he followed, falling still over her with a sigh.

The world seemed to disappear, and it was just the two of them, wrapped up in one another and his set of sweaty sheets. Fred rolled off of her to keep from crushing her with his weight, but she followed his body, curling into his side and pressing kisses to his sternum.

As an afterthought Fred lifted the quilt at the end of his bed, throwing it carelessly over the both of them now that the sweat was beginning to cool on their skin. Winona nuzzled into his side, legs tangled together under the blanket, and she listened to his heartbeat, still racing within his chest.

"So," Fred said some indeterminable amount of time later, pulse finally beginning to slow. "Would you call that a mistake?"

Winona laughed again, feeling her own heartbeat slowly begin to calm down. Her body was sore and satisfied, buzzing not with want, but with contentment. She pressed her lips against his skin again. "Actually, I'd call that a raging success," she told him.

Fred's hand moved to her hair. "Thank Merlin," he breathed into her blonde tresses. "Because, personally, I don't think I've ever done anything more right."

She propped her chin up on the hand resting over his steady heart. "That's sappy."

"It's true."

Winona rolled her lips into her mouth to save herself from giving a truly stupid smile. She stared at him, watching the way he stared dazedly up at the ceiling, still seeming to be riding the last of the high.

Words were bubbling up from her chest, tickling at her throat and then burning at her tongue with the need to be spoken aloud. They were big, important, scary words. Words she knew would change everything and nothing at all.

She wondered if she had the courage to say them, but didn't get the chance to find out.

The dorm's door opened with a bang, and both Fred sat up with a gasp, instinctively tugging at the quilt covering Winona, intent on keeping her modesty intact. Only it wasn't George bursting carelessly through the door, but rather Lee followed by a laughing Angelina.

"They're in here somewhere," Lee was saying loudly, teetering somewhat as he walked, the alcohol clearly having gone to his head. "You think we'd be able to get-"

They would never know what Lee had been trying to say, because he cut himself off abruptly as he laid eyes on the very naked pair wrapped in the sheets of Fred's bed. Lee's eyes went wide and his mouth hung open stupidly. Angelina's expression, on the other hand, closed off completely.

Winona sat up, holding the quilt to her chest. "Ange," she said, then stopped, because what exactly was she supposed to say?_ I'm so sorry you just walked in on the afterglow of the fantastic, life-altering sex of your best friend and ex-boyfriend?_

Angelina said nothing, just swallowed thickly, nodded once, then turned and left the room as silently as she'd entered. Lee didn't move, staring at them like a deer caught in the headlight.

"Fucking hell, Lee," barked Fred, picking up a nearby pillow and lobbing it at him. "Get out!"

Lee fled the room with a strangled yelp, and the air left Winona in a whoosh as she collapsed back onto the bed. She'd been right; although not for the reasons she'd expected, things had just gotten mighty complicated.

* * *

**A/N: Really hope everyone enjoyed this one. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy, and that my stories are helping to take your mind off the terrible things happening in the world at the moment. Stay safe out there, and I'll see you again soon with another chapter!**

**Spotlight review goes to: _RulerOfCats_ – thank you so much for reviewing. Your review made me smile so widely; your kind words about my writing and the story so far, it really touched me. I'm so glad you're enjoying it, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts in the future!**


	45. The very cause of the thing you fear

Fred and Winona sat in silence for a few tense moments, neither quite sure how to react. "I should go," Winona finally said, a frown pinching at her brow.

"No," said Fred, looking alarmed. "Stay."

She smiled sadly. "I really ought to go talk to Ange," she told him, apologetic but firm. She climbed out from under his quilt and began to redress, pulling on her undergarments, then shimmying into her jeans and turning her flannel the right way out before buttoning that up too.

Too soon she was dressed, and she turned to see Fred still naked in bed, staring at her inscrutably. She didn't want to leave so abruptly, but her friendship with Angelina might literally hang in the balance, and as much as she adored Fred, she wasn't going to lose Angelina because of their shitty communication skills.

She walked back towards him, climbing onto the bed and leaning towards him on her knees. "I don't regret you," she told him, the most heartfelt thing she could think to say in that moment. "I could _never_ regret you."

Fred grinned back at her, the despondency disappearing from his eyes like the sun peeking out from behind some clouds. "Yeah?"

Her only answer was to smile back, reaching up to cup his face in her hand and drawing him into a deep, lazy, toe-curling kiss. After a long minute of selfish indulgence, she pulled back and brushed her thumb over his cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him with a smile.

Fred stopped her before she could leave, holding her wrist and keeping her on the bed with him. She hoped he wouldn't ask her to stay again – she wasn't sure she could deny him twice. "Does this mean the secret's finally out?" he asked her, hopeful.

And after what they'd just shared, Winona couldn't be anything except honest. "I don't wanna lie about it anymore," she told him honestly. "We're done keeping this to ourselves."

Fred made a sound of relief, sinking back into his pillows. "Thank Merlin for that," he breathed, and she could tell he meant it.

Winona chuckled, swooping in to press her lips to his chest, exposed by the falling blanket. She kissed her way up the column of his throat until she places a kiss once more to his addictive lips, before very reluctantly pulling away.

"Wish me luck with Ange," she said in farewell as she left. Fred groaned in her wake, and she grinned back at him impishly. It was harder than she'd thought it would be to leave Fred, but she forced herself out the door towards the girls' dorm – ignoring the way her legs still felt just a little bit like jelly.

Winona hesitated outside the door to her dorm, hand frozen in the air where it was raised to knock. She recognised the feeling in her chest as fear; fear Angelina would be angry. Fear that she wouldn't be forgiven. Fear she was just an all-round bad person.

But she couldn't stand outside the door stressing herself into a tizzy forever, so with a deep breath of air into her lungs – body still buzzing from her time with Fred – Winona knocked twice on the door before cracking it open an inch and poking her head tentatively through the gap.

Angelina was sitting on her bed, staring unseeingly at a book in her lap. She looked up when Winona edged into the room, and her dazed stare turned into an inscrutably blank look.

"Hey," said Winona lamely. Angelina deserved more than this, but she didn't know where to begin. An apology wouldn't have been out of step, but she felt like she needed to build up to it.

Winona was expecting a glare, or maybe – worst of all – some tears. Instead Angelina did neither, surprising Winona with a sad smile. "I'm glad you two finally got your heads out of your arses long enough to realise what you had," she told Winona bluntly, who blinked at her in shock.

She didn't _seem_ angry, but Winona knew Angelina was one of those people who could bottle their rage deep down inside, locked away in a drawer only to be brought out when absolutely necessary. She'd rather face that rage now than deal with it sometime unexpectedly down the line.

"…You're not going to shout at me?" she finally asked, bracing for a nasty hex. Angelina was very handy with her hexes, and Winona wasn't about to fight back. She wasn't sure she deserved a face full of boils or anything quite so painful, but perhaps some extra-long toenails or green hair wouldn't be completely out of order.

But instead, Angelina just rolled her eyes. "Winnie, I'm not going to shout at you," she sounded exasperated. "I'm not going to hex you, either," she added, seeing the way she was stood, tall and bracing her feet, ready to take a hit.

Slowly, not quite convinced, Winona began to relax her tensed muscles. "You're…not?"

Angelina abandoned the pretence of reading, shutting her book with a snapping noise and turning her full attention to Winona. "I've known there was something you weren't telling us," she admitted. "I didn't think things between you had gotten quite so…far," she said it delicately, but even Winona – worldly as she was – had to flush at the memory of being caught naked with Fred. "But I'm not mad."

"You're not mad," Winona echoed, like she'd spoken a different language altogether.

"Being mad would only be a waste of my time and energy," Angelina said. Somehow the words stung, and Winona looked away, guilt like a poison in her veins. Angelina seemed to realise she'd come across a bit harsh and sighed, folding her hands together in her lap. "I just meant that it's pointless to be angry. I think some part of me knew from the start, that this was how it was always going to end. It's my own fault, really."

Winona didn't know what to say to that. Angelina just smiled sadly.

"Fred never meant to hurt you," Winona eventually said. Angelina's eyes tightened and her lips pressed into a thin line, but otherwise she didn't react. "It's not my place to apologise for him, so I won't. But I just don't want you thinking he's some demon for all of this. I'm just as much to blame."

"Look, Winnie, I loved Fred, or at least I _thought_ I did. Turns out that maybe I don't know what it means to love someone after all. And I'm glad I have the chance to learn."

Winona didn't react, staring at her in warring confusion and concern.

"You and Fred? You were always meant to be. And how could I resent him just for being in love with you? Especially considering he always has been, and I was just too blind to see it."

Guilt twisted in Winona's gut, as if someone took her insides and wrung them out like a washcloth. But around the edges of the guilt was a warmth, like roses of magic blooming in her chest. Her skin prickled and she was uncomfortably aware of Angelina's words. They rang in her head like the toll of a bell.

_He's in love with you; he always has been._

It echoed over and over, making her heart flutter and her insides curl. Could it be what she'd felt, being with him earlier in bed? Was that what made it so different to her experiences in the past?

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't, not to Angelina and certainly not to herself. Fred felt strongly about her, and she was just as gone on him. Thinking about it now, she couldn't possibly look back and pinpoint the moment her feelings had turned from platonic to something _more._ It was more a gradual crescendo of feeling, a million tiny moments and glances and innocent touches that had blossomed into what they had now.

"I know you love him too," said Angelina, bringing Winona abruptly from her whirlwind thoughts. When she looked up, it was with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. "And I know that scares you," Angelina continued as if she wasn't cutting to the very core of Winona's personal demons. "But Winnie, you should tell him."

Winona cleared her throat, distinctly uncomfortable. "Yeah," she agreed. "Maybe one day."

Angelina looked disappointed, but she knew Winona well enough by now to know not to push. Winona, while very eager to get off the subject of Fred, knew there was still too much to say.

"Fred's my boyfriend," she blurted before she could think of a more tactful way to phrase it. It sounded juvenile, said like that, but it was no less true. "We're dating, and I'd really like for that not to ruin what you and I have as friends."

Angelina peered at her, long and assessing, and it took a lot for Winona not to shift her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "That was direct," Angelina finally said.

"I figured you'd appreciate the honesty."

Her friend smiled, soft and still a little sad, but mostly just sincere. "I do," she confirmed. "We're still friends, Winnie, and we always will be. I'd never let that change over a _boy._"

Winona let out a sigh of relief, feeling it in her bones. "Neither would I."

"I'm sorry I've been keeping Alicia and Katie away so often," Angelina said, but Winona was waving her off before she'd even finished speaking.

"I hoard the twins to myself all the bloody time," she laughed, a tad hysterical. She couldn't help it, this whole evening had been a rollercoaster of emotion. "The girls were supporting you. I'd never begrudge you that."

Angelina pushed aside her Transfiguration textbook and the few spare rolls of parchment she had splayed out in front of her, then patted the bedspread and opened her arms out wide. Winona didn't hesitate to hop onto the bed, bouncing twice before she fell still, and wrapped her arms tight around Angelina.

She expected the hug to end quickly, but Angelina held tight and Winona got the sense she needed the comfort, holding her back just as tight.

"Do me a favour?" Angelina asked, words muffled by her shoulder.

"Anything, Ange."

"Don't fuck it up."

It was so unexpected that Winona began to laugh hysterically. Thinking about it, she wasn't sure she'd ever heard Angelina swear before.

"I mean it," her friend said into her shoulder, readjusting her grip on their hug just to hold her closer. "You've got something special with him, the kind of thing people like me dream about. So don't let it go."

Subdued, Winona tucked her face into Angelina's neck. Winona had never noticed before, but she smelled just like a pine forest. Airy, along with a hint of the perfume she'd dabbed on that morning – something French and expensive.

Perhaps for the first time, Winona shut her eyes and sent a prayer to the heavens. Just a quick one, thanking the Powers That Be for letting her be experiencing Hogwarts in the here and now, in the same year as this wonderful girl. Winona shagged her ex-boyfriend and here they were, hugging like sisters.

That wasn't to say Angelina was the perfect friend; she'd said things and done things that had hurt her, but to be completely fair, so had Winona. All she could do was swear to try to be better from now on, without jealousy or resentment clouding things between them, and hope Angelina swore the same.

Finally pulling away, Winona was horrified to find tears glittering in her friend's dark eyes. Angelina laughed at her stricken expression, wiping her eyes quickly and then reaching over to her bedside table where a small tray of nail polish sat idly.

"Wanna paint each other's nails and talk about Fred's penis?" Angelina offered brightly.

Startled, Winona could only throw her head back and laugh.

The other girls appeared an hour or so later, the party downstairs finally beginning to wind down. They walked into the dorm to find the two of them – previously at odds – huddled together in bed, both with green masks painted on their faces, Angelina doing Winona's hair up into an elaborate braid.

Alicia and Katie paused in the doorway, eyeing the scene before them like they half expected it to shimmer out of existence like a mirage, but then Winona waved them in and the spell – for lack of a better word – was broken. The invisible tension which had plagued them all for so many weeks finally dissolved into nothing, leaving in its place the ability to finally breathe.

* * *

Winona awoke the next morning with something of a headache, thanks in part to the firewhisky she'd been throwing back the night before. She got out of bed with a groan, showered, brushed her teeth thoroughly and changed into her clothes for the day, pulling her robes over the top of her jeans and teeshirt, hefting up her ever-present satchel and making her way downstairs.

The girls were already up, all down at breakfast apart from Katie, who stood in the far corner of the common room with the other girls in her year. Winona waved to her in greeting, and she returned the gesture before turning back to her conversation.

Something collided with her before she could even fully leave the bottom step. Arms wrapped soundly around her middle and her spine was pressed up against the stone of the common room wall.

She craned back her head, looking up at her gentle assailant in surprise. "Fred?"

But Fred didn't respond with words, he simply ducked down to plant a toe-curling kiss on her lips. Held snug between him and the wall, Winona kissed him back with fervour, memories from the night before flashing behind her eyes – acres of soft skin and countless freckles and the sounds he made when she raked her nails down the length of his spine.

There was a loud, obnoxious whistle from across the room and Fred pulled back from her. Admittedly a little dazed, Winona blinked up at him, head foggy. "Good morning," Fred told her, voice impish, because he knew exactly what he was doing to her – the bastard.

"Certainly seems to be, doesn't it?" she replied, blinking again, eyelids droopy.

Fred looked awfully smug, and she narrowed her eyes at him. That just wouldn't do. She was just about to kiss him again – this time within an inch of his life – but an exasperated call of her name tore her from her task.

She peeked over Fred's shoulder to find George and Lee watching them with mixed amusement and disgust.

"If we don't leave now, we're not going to be able to eat before class," George reminded them with a nod at the grandfather clock in the corner of the common room. "And we all know how cranky a certain _someone_ gets on an empty stomach," he added in Winona's direction.

Winona pulled a rude gesture that only made him laugh, so she turned away, grabbing Fred's hand instead. "C'mon," she said, smiling as she tugged him towards the portrait hole.

The group of girls in Katie's year were all staring at them with gaping mouths, and it occurred to Winona suddenly that this was their official _reveal._ They were out as a couple now. There was no more secret to guard. She was torn between both relief and terror at the realisation.

"Loosen up," said Fred in her ear as they walked, following Lee and George as they made their way down the moving staircases towards the Great Hall.

"I just hate being the centre of attention," Winona replied, looking deliberately away when a group of passing Ravenclaw girls tittered in their direction.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Nobody's going to care."

"I think you underestimate just how popular you are," she bit back. Slipping her free hand into the pocket of her robes, she curled her fingers around the warm, smooth wood of her wand and let it ground her; let it remind her she was still in control. People knowing had no effect on her and Fred's relationship. Things would be the same as ever, just as she liked it.

"You're right," said Fred with a snobbiness to his voice that made her look up in surprise. "I'm terribly, unmatchably popular, and we'll be the topic on everyone's lips now that you've finally managed to coerce me into bed."

Eyebrows shooting upwards, Winona gripped his hand tighter as a grin stretched across her face. Leave it to Fred to take her deepest anxieties and turn them into something that could make her smile.

"As I remember it, there wasn't much _coercion_ involved," she replied, the warm grin melting down into a coy smirk. She pushed herself up onto her toes to breathe into his ear, "What was it you said? _I've wanted you so long I've forgotten what it felt like _not_ to_."

Fred's face went a blotchy red even as he grinned, flushing at the sound of his sweet nothing whispered in the light of day.

"Okay," he relented. "Fair point."

She realised then that he'd been attempting to distract her – and that it had worked. It probably should have worried her that he could play her like a fiddle, plucking strings at will, knowing just how she'd react. But instead of worry, she felt comfort. Comfort for having someone know her so intimately that he knew what she needed even when she didn't.

They walked into the Great Hall, and Winona knew she was imagining the way everyone seemed to stare at them. Even still, she burrowed into Fred's side like she might be able to sink inside him and disappear from sight. Angelina and the others were sat towards the middle of the table, and Winona felt lighter than air over the fact they could sit with them without having to worry about things being tense or awkward.

Alicia let out a playful catcall as she caught sight of Winona and Fred's intertwined hands, but otherwise the fact that anything had changed wasn't acknowledged. Winona felt the weight begin to lift off her chest the longer breakfast went on without anyone making a comment or altering their usual routine. And then breakfast was over and they were heading to Charms, and her anxieties had been all but shaved away.

Class passed uneventfully, and by the time lunch came round, Winona was ready for some time alone. "As much as I cherish and adore you," she said to Fred playfully, ignoring George's teasing jeer at her words, "I'm going to go find some empty, well-lit corner of the castle and spend my lunch sketching."

"You don't wanna come eat with me?" Fred asked, swinging their linked hands between them.

"Not hungry," she shrugged.

And Fred knew her well enough to know that when she got into one of these moods – the kind where the only thing she hungered for was the scratch of graphite against parchment – it was best just to leave her to her distraction until she'd poured all her inspiration into a project and finally come out the other side of it.

"All right," he said, and she felt a rush a bubbling affection at his easy acceptance of her creative whims. "Been meaning to go over the new order form structure with George, anyway."

Winona pursed her lips to hide the stupid smile threatening to bloom.

"What?" Fred asked, brow furrowed.

"You're just kind of the best," she told him simply.

He made an indignant sound. "_Kind of_?" he echoed dubiously. "Well, that just won't do."

Winona's expression gave way to a laugh, and she squeezed his hand three times in quick succession. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Fred nodded, and she bounced onto her toes to press a firm kiss to his slightly-prickly cheek, dropping back down to the flats of her feet and smiling as they parted. She felt like she was floating on air and she wandered in a vague fashion through the castle, searching for the perfect place to sit down and draw.

Eventually she found a small alcove halfway up the Astronomy Tower. Tucked into the side of the spiral staircase and positioned at a bay window, the afternoon sunshine shone through the glass like golden air, and Winona curled up against the window, pulling out her things and getting to work.

It probably wouldn't surprise anyone to know she was sketching Fred, only this time it was how he'd looked in bed the night before, laid boneless in amongst his covers, grinning at her sleepily.

She wasn't working long before someone disturbed her peace, and were it anyone other than Harry, she might have hexed them for it. Shutting her sketchbook, she watched as her cousin climbed the stairs towards her, a pensive look on his face.

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry looked a tiny bit sheepish. "When you didn't meet us at the Charms classroom, I got worried," he said, and Winona let out a curse.

"I'm so sorry, I completely forgot," she told him, slapping herself in the face in reprimand. "Things have been so hectic since then – I didn't even _think_-"

"It's okay," Harry told her before she could slap herself again. "To be honest, after the night I had, I'm not particularly in the mood to work on defence anyway."

"You had a bad night?" Winona asked, concerned. She shuffled over on her little bay window, leaving just enough room for Harry to squeeze in.

Harry settled into his spot, leaning back against the window and sighing when his head hit the sun-warmed glass. "Something happened. I tried to catch you last night, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

Winona's skin prickled with the memory of exactly where she'd been. "I was…otherwise engaged," she told him, cheeks pink. "What's up?"

"Did you hear about my dream in Divination?" Harry asked.

Winona's eyebrows shot up high. "You had a dream in Divination?"

Harry grimaced. "More of a nightmare."

"Spill," she ordered him, stern.

And so Harry recounted his Divination class from the day before – falling asleep to drift into dreams of Voldemort's rasping voice and the slithering hisses of a snake, followed by a curse that made him yell out in very _real_ pain. Apparently the whole class had been staring at him when he came to, and Trelawney had demanded to hear his premonition.

"How the hell did I miss this?" Winona asked, staring at Harry in shock.

"Well, where were you last night?" Harry countered. "If you were busy, the news probably didn't get to you."

Winona's cheeks went pink again at the question, but luckily Harry was too distracted to notice. "I guess so," she said, glad her voice came out steady. "So then what happened?"

Harry told her how he'd left Divination and booked it up to Dumbledore's office, only to find him, Moody, and Fudge himself all engaged in a meeting inside. Winona asked what the hell the Minister was doing there, and Harry gave her a quick rundown of what little he overheard before he was caught eavesdropping by Moody.

But that wasn't anywhere close to everything Harry needed to tell her – it was once Dumbledore and his guests had left to go survey the grounds that the real curiosities began. Winona had heard of Pensieves before, but she didn't know too much about them. As Harry began to explain what exactly it was, and just how to worked, Winona listened with rapt attention.

But it was what he'd seen _inside_ the Pensieve that was the real interesting part. Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, brought before the Wizengamot to face judgement for his crimes. Ludo Bagman brought before them too, on the charges of passing information to the Dark Lord's followers. Crouch's son had also been a Death Eater – sentenced to life in Azkaban at his own father's decree for torturing a pair of innocent wizards into insanity.

The more Harry spoke, the more empty Winona began to feel. The first war had been filled with horrors the likes of which she barely understood – and there was still so much more yet to come. They were barely halfway out of the dark, and the thought was as depressing as it was terrifying.

Finishing recounting what he'd witnessed in the Pensieve, Harry told her that Dumbledore found him there and they spoke about his dream.

"And he knew I'd had bad dreams over the Summer – Sirius has been in contact with him, too," he told Winona in an undertone. "He was the one to suggest the caves on the mountain as a place to hide out."

Winona wasn't sure she liked the idea of Dumbledore knowing exactly where Sirius was hiding, but she couldn't quite piece together the thought clearly enough to figure out why that was. She said nothing, staring out the window and trying find the peace she'd had before her serenity had been shattered like glass.

"Dumbledore says that, last time – back in the years leading up to the first war – there were disappearances; Muggle _and_ wizard," said Harry quietly, worrying the inside of his cheek. "Have you – have you noticed the disappearances happening lately?"

Winona tipped her head back against the glass, trying to force its heat to sink into her skin and warm her suddenly-cold heart. "You mean Bertha Jorkins?"

"And Mr Crouch," Harry nodded. "There was also a Muggle – Frank, I think. He lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up. He's gone missing too, and Dumbledore thinks it's related."

They fell back into silence, and while it was easy, it was filled with foreboding. In the distance the castle's bell rang, signalling the end of lunch and the time to return to class. But neither Harry nor Winona moved, staring into empty space, each lost in their own tempest of thoughts.

"It's happening again, isn't it?" Harry finally whispered. "There's going to be another war."

Winona said nothing, swallowing around the uncomfortable lump in her throat. She felt Harry turn his head, his green eyes boring into the side of her face.

"I know you know, Winnie."

_Tell me the truth. Please. I can't handle any more lies._

And if there was one thing Winona was sure of, it was that she was never going to lie to him. Not about this, or anything else.

"I don't have answers," she told him. At the bottom of the spiral staircase was a buzz of chatter and laughter, but being as it was the middle of the day, nobody had need of the Astronomy Tower, and they knew they were safe from prying ears. "I get visions – mere flashes – and sometimes feelings, like something unseen is pulling me in the right direction. That's all. It's not like I can scream a question into the aether and expect a coherent answer in return."

Harry sighed. "I know."

"But," she continued quietly, "I see some things. Nothing good. Screams and darkness. Death without end. When I'm awake it's usually easy to filter it all out – focus on only what I absolutely need to see. But when I fall asleep, it hits me. All the fear and pain and hatred. I don't remember any of it, not in any way I could explain. But something's coming. There's a storm on the horizon, Harry, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only person who can see it coming," she confessed, horrified to find her eyes stinging with tears.

Slowly, Harry looped an arm around her shoulders and Winona sank gladly into his tentative embrace. "You're not," he promised her. "I see it too."

The relief those simple words gave her was indescribable, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. She'd never noticed before, but Harry smelt like an herb garden – fresh parsley and basil, straight from the soil – mixed with the slight chemical scent of the same broom polish brand the twins used on their broomsticks. It was strangely endearing, because that was pretty much Harry in a summary.

Wonderfully down-to-earth, just like fresh herbs, with a little bit of Quidditch thrown in. She wondered how anybody could look at this boy and see some untouchable superstar. To Winona, he was just Harry; her cousin; her family.

"You're not alone," she said suddenly, taking them both by surprise. She lifted her head to look Harry in the eye, making sure he knew the depth of her vow. "Whatever's coming, whatever we're walking into – we walk into it together."

Harry stared at her a long moment, feeling the weight of her words on his chest, and slowly he smiled. "That's what families do, isn't it?" he asked, aiming for playful but just hitting subdued. "They stick with each other through thick and thin?"

Winona shrugged against him. "So I've been told."

He paused a moment, considering. "I've never had a proper family before," he finally murmured, something like wonder in his voice.

Winona wrapped her arm around his middle and squeezed him tight. "You're never gonna be without one again," she promised him, feeling it in her very bones.

When they pulled apart it was with a silent agreement not to mention their eyes' matching misty sheen.

"What class do you have next?" she asked as she began to put away her things.

"Potions," he said, then grimaced. "And I'm late. Ugh, Snape's going to curse me on sight."

Winona waved her hand as if to bat away the words, ripping a piece of parchment off the roll in her bag and pulling free a self-inking quill, using it to scribe a quick note, then signing it off with a signature that wasn't hers.

"Did you just _forge_ Flitwick's signature?" Harry asked, baulking at the sight of it. She grinned wickedly and Harry brought it closer to his face. "It looks perfect," he marvelled.

"I can do every teacher in the school," she told him proudly. "The twins struggle to be places on time, so I learned how to get them out of trouble pretty early on."

Harry laughed quietly and Winona grinned at the sound. "I'll see you later?" he asked as he folded the parchment and stuffed it into his pocket.

"You know it."

They parted at the bottom of the Tower, Harry going one direction and Winona in the other. Arithmancy dragged, but it wasn't so bad. She was able to lose herself in the numbers and work.

Thinking the day was a success, she picked up her bag at the end of class and made her way from the room, only for somebody to come up behind her and shove their shoulder roughly into hers, nearly sending her into a nearby wall.

"What the fuck, Hawkins?" she demanded, turning around on a Slytherin girl in their year, finding her and another two girls staring at her with sneers on their ugly faces. "Can I help you?" she asked snidely, automatically reaching for her wand, gripping it in steady fingers.

"Sorry, I thought you'd have _known_ I was there," said Dahlia Hawkins – a girl Winona had spoken to maybe twice in her time so far at Hogwarts – both instances of which had dissolved quickly into fights. "You know, since you're meant to be a _Seer_ and all."

"Fuck off," Winona muttered, shouldering her way by her, ignoring the small crowd that had begun to gather around the hallway they were stood in.

Hawkins, however, thrived on the attention. "Although, if you really _were_ a Seer," she said it sarcastically, like Winona were no more than a child going through a phase, "wouldn't you have picked a better choice of boyfriend?"

Winona's insides froze to ice, and she slowly turned back around to look at the Slytherin. Her fire-engine-red lips were pulled back in a sneer, teeth bared like an angry baboon. "Excuse me?" Winona asked, deathly still, and the crowd around them shifted excitedly.

"You heard me," Hawkins said, high on all the beady eyes watching their encounter. She couldn't back down now, she'd look like a coward; the only way out of this was through. Which suited Winona just fine. "If you could really see the future, I'd have thought you'd pick a better suitor. Everyone knows the Weasleys are nothing but dead weight. You're setting yourself up for a lifetime of poverty and debt."

Winona's brain stopped working, and before she knew what she was doing her wand was out of her pocket. Hawkins – who was already gripping hers, probably having expected it to come to this – quickly flicked out her wrist, but she was too slow.

With a hissed, "_Expelliarmus_," Hawkins' wand went flying – but unfortunately Winona couldn't disarm more than one person at a time, and one of Hawkins' friends had their wand ready, too. In a blink her own wand was hitting the floor, but Winona didn't waste time bothering to pick it up.

She just charged, taking sick pleasure in the horror on Hawkins' face as she barrelled towards her with all the uncompromising force of a dark curse. Winona's fist connected with the side of her face, and she yelped as she hit the ground, but Winona wasn't done.

The struggle that ensued was hardly dignified, but Winona had spent enough time fending for herself in the harsh reality of the Muggle world that she didn't care. Hawkins screeched in one long burst, using her nails to scratch at any exposed piece of skin she could find. Winona landed a punch to her gut that cut off her scream, but before she could wrap her hands around her thick neck, two sets of hands wrapped around her middle and lifted her up off Hawkins body.

"Merlin, Win," Fred was panting in her ear. "I leave you alone for an hour…"

The Slytherins were helping a seething Hawkins to her feet. "She's _crazy_!" Hawkins was screeching to anyone who'd listen, blood dripping down her chin from the cut on her lip made by Winona's mother's ring. "You and your poor, ginger pets deserve each other!"

Winona tried leaping at her again, but Fred held her back with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She settled for shoving her finger in Hawkins' direction, making the Slytherin squawk with offence. As Fred dragged Winona around the corner, she heard Hawkins' friends shouting for somebody to get a teacher, and Winona cringed at the thought of facing Dumbledore after this.

Fred finally put her down once the commotion of the fight had drifted into the distance. Back on her own two feet, Winona realised he wasn't alone. George was stood with him, along with a wide-eyed Katie, who looked like she was getting ready to give Winona the scolding of a lifetime.

"Blimey, Win," said George reproachfully.

Winona just took a deep breath, reaching up to prod gently at the sore area beneath her eye where Hawkins had gotten a good hit in. Yeah, that was going to be sore tomorrow.

"What in Merlin's name were you _thinking_?!" Katie demanded shrilly.

"Hawkins was out of line," Winona replied without so much as a hint of remorse. "It's her own fault. And if they hadn't disarmed me, I wouldn't have had to punch her to get the job done."

Katie dropped her face into her hands and George patted her consolingly on the shoulder, like they were Winona's parents and she'd greatly disappointed them. Winona rolled her eyes.

"What'd she even say that made you snap like that?" Fred wondered. Winona mumbled her answer, and Fred stepped closer to hear her better. "Say again?"

"I said she called you dead weight," Winona snapped, balling her hands into fists at the mere thought. Who did she think she was? What did she think gave her the _right_? "She was just talking shit, Fred. So I put her in her place. You would have done the same."

Fred surprised her by grinning, fond and just a little crooked. "Yeah, probably," he admitted openly. Concern clouded his expression and he reached up to brush his thumb over the bruise forming beneath her left eye. She leaned into his touch, trying to let the feel of him wash away Hawkins' cruel words. "Come on," he finally said. "We'll go back to the dorm, rub in some salve."

"You're gonna rub _something_ in, alright," snickered George under his breath. Katie gasped and went bright pink, while Winona just laughed and slapped him upside the head as she walked past with a smug-looking Fred. It hurt her hand, and looking down at her knuckles she found them in about as bad of a state as her face.

She and Fred left the hallway, taking the long way to Gryffindor Tower so they hopefully wouldn't run into anyone on a warpath to find her. The common room was half full when they arrived, and again Winona got the terrible sense they were being watched. She ducked her head and followed Fred up to the boys' dorm, ignoring the catcalls that followed in their wake.

Didn't these people ever get any new material?

Fred sat her down on the edge of his bed, and Winona gladly put down her bag and kicked off her shoes, shuffling backwards into the middle of his mattress. She collapsed back into his fluffy pillows and breathed in his sense, enjoying this small moment of peace, knowing that when the consequences of her actions caught up to her, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"That temper of yours is gonna get you in trouble, one of these days," said Fred with a smirk, seeming to materialise beside the bed. He took a seat on her right – which Winona had come to think of _his_ side of the bed – and motioned for her to scoot closer.

"Like it hasn't already?" she asked dryly, shuffling towards him and watching as he dipped his fingers into the jar of homemade salve he and George had cooked up. He gently began to rub the bright orange salve over the bruise slowly forming beneath her eye. She felt it warm as it began to sink into her skin, doing its job. With any luck, there wouldn't even be any swelling.

"I kind of liked it though," he told her impishly as he worked. "You defending my honour, and all."

Winona couldn't help but smile, just like always when Fred was around. He was like the sunshine after the storm, and thinking back to her conversation with Harry, she hoped the same could stay true in the face of the trials of the coming years.

"Seriously though, Win," he said softly, finishing with her eye and picking up her hand, beginning to gently rub the orange salve into her swollen knuckles. "You can't just punch everyone who talks shit in life."

"But that's literally how we met," Winona reminded him sweetly, but Fred didn't laugh like she'd expected him to.

"What am I meant to do if you get expelled?" he asked her seriously.

"Are you kidding?" she baulked. "Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen. I'm far too valuable."

"You can't just keep relying on your worth to Dumbledore to get you out of trouble," he said, gentle but still scolding. "Someday that might not be enough."

"You're one to talk," she said, nudging him gently with her uninjured hand. "You invented the word troublemaker."

Fred rolled his eyes, fingers still carefully rubbing his salve into her hand. It was kind of distracting, but the pain was beginning to lessen, so she knew it was doing its job. "Maybe so," he agreed, "but I don't go around decking everybody who pisses me off."

"Face facts," she argued. "I'm 90% of your impulse control. If the situation were reversed and you were alone, you'd have done the same."

And Fred certainly couldn't disagree; he probably knew she'd just see straight through any lie he tried to pull. "I'll promise to work on my impulse control if you do the same," he reasoned. "We still have one more year of school to go."

"So, what you're saying is, once we graduate, I'll be free to punch anyone I like?"

And finally she managed to make him laugh. He tipped his head back like a little kid, grinning at the ceiling above them. Proud of herself, Winona watched as he shook his head in amusement and screwed the top back onto the jar of salve.

"Sure," he told her fondly. "In fact, I encourage it."

Winona opened her mouth to reply, but she was stopped by a loud thumping noise from out in the hallway. Both she and Fred fell silent, staring across at the door, a sinking suspicion as to who it might be bubbling unpleasantly in their guts. There was a sharp knocking at the door, then a familiar, croaky voice called out, "_I'm coming in, so you'd best be decent in there._"

Eyes wide, the pair watched as the door burst open, revealing Professor Moody in the doorway. He looked as terrifying as ever, but even more so in the doorjamb of Fred's dorm – a place they'd certainly never expected him to appear.

His one good eye narrowed in on Fred, while his magical one was focused on Winona, sat in the middle of Fred's bad, salve still half-visible on her face.

"Miss Black," Moody said in his gravelly voice.

Winona's spine snapped up straight. "It's _Andrews_," she corrected him sharply.

Moody didn't so much as blink. "Could've fooled me."

Winona bit her lip to keep it from curling at him like a feral animal, residual anger still lingering from her fisticuffs with the bad-mouthed Slytherin. "Can I help you, Professor?" she asked, voice like ice.

"You're to come with me," Moody told her, tone leaving no room for argument; but damn if Winona didn't want to try. She opened her mouth to fight against it, a seed of panic settling in her gut, but Moody spoke over the top of her. "Kiss your little boyfriend goodbye and follow me. Now, please, Miss Andrews," he snapped coldly, turning around with an agility that surprised them, limping from the doorway.

Fred's ears were red, but Winona was too full of irritation to feel any embarrassment. She climbed off his bed and shouldered her bag, stuffing her feet back into her shoes. "I'd better go face the music," she said reluctantly. "If I'm not back in an hour, assume Dumbledore's murdered me out of sheer frustration."

Fred rolled his eyes as she left, blowing a kiss her way that was definitely more sarcastic than genuine, but it made her happy nonetheless.

The students lingering in the common room stared at Winona openly as she followed a perpetually-scowling Moody towards the portrait hole. The older students snickered at her misfortune, thinking she'd been caught shagging Fred by a teacher. Honestly, she might have preferred that over the truth.

Watching Moody climb out of the portrait hole was almost hilarious, but nobody dared laugh. Once he was safely on the other side, Winona climbed out with a touch more grace, then gripped the strap of her bag as she reluctantly followed him deeper into the castle.

It took her longer than it probably should have to realise they weren't heading in the direction of Dumbledore's office. She kept her mouth shut though, not wanting to risk the chance of avoiding Dumbledore just that little bit longer.

When Moody led her into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, then up the back to his office, Winona began to grow weary. What if Moody was going to punish her himself? Something told her he wasn't afraid to throw about a dark curse or two. Would he really go that far? She wasn't sure; he _was_ batshit crazy, so really, anything was possible.

"Um," said Winona as Moody shuffled inside his office, collapsing into the chair at the far end of the room, right in front of a set of ghostly mirrors. The whole office reeked of some kind of incense, kind of like the stuff Trelawney burned in her attic, but this smelt more like ash than any actual herbs. "Is Dumbledore meeting us here?"

"Dumbledore isn't coming," Moody told her point-blank.

Winona blinked. "Oh."

Moody rested his walking stick against the edge of his large oak desk. It was cluttered, covering in loose sheets of paper and the odd animal skull. Winona didn't want to think about where they'd come from.

"I see no reason to involve the Headmaster in such matters," Moody continued, almost conversational. "He's a busy man."

Winona was just feeling more and more out of her depth; like she'd been thrown in the deep end and hadn't even realised she was treading water until that moment. She looked around the room, hoping to find something to distract herself.

It occurred to her suddenly that Moody had found her in a place she hadn't thought a teacher would have the guts to look. "How'd you know I'd be in the boys' dorms?" she wondered.

Moody shoved aside a thick tome on his desk to reveal a familiar piece of parchment splayed across its surface. "I had some help," he said, both eyes fixed on her. Chills broke out across her skin, but not the good kind. The kind that came before something very bad. "Girls aren't supposed to be up in the boys' dorms," he added, stating the obvious.

"Is that really the infraction you're choosing to go with? Because I just tried to break a Slytherin's nose with my bare hands," she reminded him stupidly.

Moody's tongue darted from his mouth in a strange flicker, and he reached immediately for the flask at his hip, taking a deep gulp of the liquid inside. "I hear it wasn't much of a fair fight," he rasped. "You've got a history with violence. But Pure-bloods? They wouldn't know a punch from a slap if it came down to it. Think they're _above_ that sort of thing."

Winona was silent, not knowing what she could possibly say to that.

"Been in my fair share of fights too, y'know?" he continued, gesturing halfheartedly to what was left of his mangled face. "Never had anyone to rub salve into my wounds. Probably why I ended up like this, eh?" he said, giving a hoarse laugh that was like sandpaper against her frayed nerves.

Winona shifted her weight from foot to foot, having not taken a seat. Moody hadn't exactly offered her one, and besides, the closest thing to a second chair was a nearby stool on wheels that was piled high with unopened mail.

"So, erm, am I going to be getting a detention, or…?"

Moody looked away, peering into the mirrors surrounding him, then he glanced back at her, an ugly smile twisted on his face that she supposed was meant to be somehow comforting. "I'll make you a deal," he began, and alarm bells rang in Winona's head instantly.

"A deal," she parroted tonelessly.

"No detention, so long as you agree to give me some information."

Winona stared at him, wordless. He just stared right back, one good eye narrowed while his magical one zipped about the room, settling on her every other heartbeat. Winona swallowed thickly. "What kind of information?" she finally asked, a healthy dose of suspicion in her voice.

"I'll tell you once you've agreed," Moody shrugged. But the action didn't seem casual on him. It seemed carefully calculated, like something he'd done to make her trust him. She didn't like it. She didn't like _him._

Winona considered it, watching him cautiously, until finally she shook her head. "I think I'd rather the detention."

Moody's magical eye stopped its paranoid whizzing to focus on her, and she felt it like a rainfall of needles against her skin. He assessed her a long moment, looking her up and down, staring as if he were trying to see into her very soul. Uncomfortable, Winona crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, if you'd rather the detention, I'm sure that can be arranged," Moody eventually declared. He gripped the bulbous end of walking stick and used it to leverage himself to his feet. "We'll just stop by the Headmaster's office and have him sign off-"

"Wait," Winona interrupted him, shutting her eyes in defeat. She heard Moody sit back down in his chair, and she could feel his satisfaction. He'd played her like a fiddle, and she'd just sat there and let him. In that moment, she thought she hated him a little. "This is blackmail," she muttered, half unable to believe the situation she'd gotten herself into.

"It's a mutually beneficial arrangement," Moody corrected her without so much as a hint of shame. She hated him for that.

She took a moment to balance her options. Either Moody took this to the Headmaster, or she agreed to hand over the knowledge he wanted. It didn't take a genius to know he wanted to know something about the future – otherwise he wouldn't have come to her, the only person in the school who could see beyond the present.

The future was the only thing she had to offer anyone.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "What do you want to know?"

If he asked for an answer she couldn't give, she'd march up to Dumbledore's office herself just to avoid revealing what was meant to stay hidden.

A hungry look appeared in Moody's one good eye. It was an expression she'd seen countless times before, on countless other faces. Fudge had looked at her the same way; practically drooling at the possibility of power that came from having a Seer in your back pocket.

To know the future was to control the present. And who could pass that up?

"Potter," he nearly snarled the name, and the sound of it prickled at Winona's skin. "How does he fair in the final task?"

It was probably the last thing Winona had expected him to ask. What did Moody care about Harry's future in the Tournament? Why should that possibly matter to him enough to risk blackmailing a student over?

"I don't know," she told him, relieved to know it was the truth. "I haven't seen anything about it."

She could tell how displeased Moody was with her answer, and she hoped he'd simply shout for a moment before letting her leave, but instead he just leaned closer, intent on getting something out of this encounter – although it was impossible to say exactly what.

"I'd have thought you'd care more for your cousin's wellbeing, Miss Black," he said deliberately, like somebody pulling the winning move in a game of chess. She hated that the blatant manipulation actually worked, but even still, she took the bait.

"I care for my cousin's wellbeing more than every single adult in this entire school combined," she snapped hotly, ire igniting in her bones. "Otherwise he wouldn't even _be_ a champion in this deathtrap of a tournament."

Something like a sneer spread over his gnarled, twisted face. It took Winona longer than it should have to finally realise it was meant to be a smile, and she knew then that she'd played right into his hand.

Moody leaned back in his chair, magical eye returning to whizzing about the room, scanning for enemies, while his one good eye narrowed at her. "So you've not _Seen_ even a single thing about the outcome of this final task?" he demanded.

Winona sat straighter in her chair. "Why does it matter to you?"

Moody leaned backwards, assessing her for an uncomfortable few moments before responding. "I suppose you could say I've taken young Potter under my wing, this past year," he told her, but the words sounded stale and insincere to her ears. "I want to make sure he gets through this in one piece."

Winona arched an eyebrow. "Well, if you're so concerned about him, why don't you take him aside for private tutoring in Defence?" she suggested. "Knowing the future does very little to change its outcome, unless you actually plan on doing something differently in the present."

She could tell Moody didn't like that, twisted smile now more of a threatening snarl. Her heart began to race as she got the strangest sensation of _danger_, like a warning underneath her skin, urging her to flee to safer waters.

But Winona had never been any good at listening to her instincts. She stayed where she was, staring an angry Moody in the eye, chin tilted up defiantly. She watched his hand twitch in the direction of the wand at his hip, but he seemed to rein in the urge to curse her before it could get out of control.

"Have you seen _anything_?" he demanded, his one eye narrowed. "Anything at all?"

Winona said nothing, staring at him unsurely.

"The only thing I'm interested in is getting Potter through to the end of this Tournament in one piece," he pressed, and she was surprised to find that, at least, was believable. "I'm sure it's no secret to you, Miss Black, that there are dark things afoot. Some of which have already penetrated these walls," he finished in a hoarse whisper, as if the room itself was listening. "If you have Seen _any_ threat to Potter's safety – to his _life_ – then I'd think you'd be obligated to tell me about it now."

She wasn't obligated to do shit, but something told her saying that would only make him more likely to curse her the moment she looked away.

The worst part was – Moody was beginning to make sense. She'd told Dumbledore everything she'd seen, warned him about the tumultuous future ahead, but the old coot was becoming more shifty than ever, and Winona was slowly beginning to wonder if he was planning to do anything in the way of protecting them at all.

Maybe having someone like Moody on their side through all of this was the smart move. At the beginning of the school year the twins had been all but falling over themselves to tell her how famous he was throughout the wizarding world – for being about as bonkers as they come, true, but also for catching more of the dark wizards currently serving in Azkaban than any Auror who came before him.

With a record like his, she couldn't help but respect the man – even if he was stark raving mad.

"I've seen a graveyard," she confessed, but the moment they were out she wished she could grab hold of the words and stuff them back down her throat. She cleared her throat and pressed stubbornly on. "I don't know what it means – or what's supposed to happen there. Is a graveyard in any way a part of the third task?"

Moody's tongue darted out again, flicking at his lips like that of a snake smelling the air. He gripped the flask at his side and tipped its contents into his twisted mouth. "The third task is a maze, Miss Black," he told her. "A deadly labyrinth the champions will have to navigate if they intend to win."

"It's Andrews," Winona corrected him absentmindedly, staring into the fire burning away over in the corner, seeing not the flames nor the ash nor the stone surrounding it. All she saw were headstones and darkness, and all she could hear was the sound of somebody screaming – piercing shrieks that made her insides turn cold.

"_Black,_" Moody snapped, and Winona blinked. There was no sketchbook in her hands, and her arms were free from marks, so she supposed the vision hadn't been the kind that required translation. It had just been a sense, like a dash of the future echoing back through time to reach her, reminding her it was coming. That it couldn't be stopped. "Black!" he snapped again, and she looked up from her empty lap, eyes glassy.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head to try and clear the fogginess from her brain.

Moody was leaning forwards her, deformed face narrowed in tense desperation. "What did you See?" he demanded, gnarled fingers curled tightly around his knees, like he wanted to reach out and shake the answer out of her, but knew that was going a step too far. "What did you _See_, Black?" he snarled the words like they burnt his tongue.

"Nothing," she lied. But even if she was going to tell the truth, she wouldn't know what to say. What had she seen? Not much, beyond a vague sense of a terrible future not so very far away.

Moody seemed to read something in her expression, and whatever it was made his intensity dial down. He leaned back in his chair, both eyes narrowed at her with such laser-like focus, she could almost feel the burn.

"I understand more than most, the need to keep one's secrets," he began, disarmingly conversational. "I've met a real Seer before, you know?"

Despite herself, Winona was intrigued. Moody read her interest like a book, smirking his twisted smirk.

"Cassandra Vablatsky," he said in his usual growl. "I take it you've heard of her?"

Winona nodded her head. "Of course I have. Who _hasn't_?"

"Well, many, many years ago, she and I had the opportunity for an in-depth conversation on the subject of her visions," Moody began to tell the tale, and Winona subconsciously edged forwards in her seat. "A wickedly accurate Seer, she is. At the time, she was bemoaning an accident that had befallen a friend. You see the irony, don't you?" he asked intently, curling his root-like hands at his knees again. "That she was a Seer, and she hadn't foreseen her friend's accident?"

Winona had no idea where he was going with this, but even so, anxiety twisted in her gut.

"Thing was, she _had_ seen it happen. And she went to her friend, told her not to go travelling by air on that particular day. What do you suppose happened?"

Winona frowned. "Her friend didn't listen?"

"She _did_ listen," he said, the words like the crack of a whip. "And she stayed away from all broomsticks, Portkeys, Floo networks and magic carpets on the day in question. But she still had somewhere to be that evening. And when you take away all those methods of transportation, what's left standing?"

It took her a moment to figure it out. "The Muggle ways?" she asked, fear swooping in her chest, making it harder to breathe.

Moody nodded gravely. "She took a Muggle aeroplane to her destination – damn thing crashed up in the alps."

Lungs unable to work, she said nothing as she stared at the teacher, horrified.

"Vablatsky knew her friend was going to die in the air, but not exactly how. Now, do you think that was likely to happen had she taken a more reliable mode of transportation – such as a Portkey?" Moody asked her critically. Winona couldn't speak. "Warning her friend of the future was exactly what caused her to go down the path that would ultimately kill her," he told her, his words deliberate, cutting down to the very core of her.

Winona swallowed around lump in her throat, hating the way her eyes burned with traitorous tears. "What's your point?" she wondered, if only as a distraction from her own internal crisis.

Moody's beady eye narrowed again. "My point, Miss Black," he said, snarling her name like it were a curse; she supposed, in some ways, it was, "is that I think you should be _wise_ about with whom you share your predictions." He lifted a hand to tap a gnarled finger against the side of his obliterated nose. "It would be nasty indeed to have your warning be the very cause of the thing you fear, eh?"

Shaken down to a fundamental level, Winona cleared her throat. "Can I leave now, Professor?"

She couldn't say for certain, but she thought Moody smirked. "Off you go," he said with a nod. "Dumbledore need never know of your fisticuffs with the Slytherin lass."

Wary, Winona thanked him, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Moody watched her go, holey expression inscrutable, and she felt the weight of his eyes on her back long after she'd retreated back up to Gryffindor Tower, suddenly not so hungry for dinner after all.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed! Thought I'd briefly let you guys know that I'm still looking for Betas to help out with the MCU, Bucky/OC story that I'm working on. If you're at all interested, send me a private message and we'll talk about it! I'm really just looking for some extra feedback, so there's no real pressure!**

**Spotlight review of the week goes to: _Karen0610_ – thanks for your review! And to sate your curiosity, it absolutely is a subtle nod to the Buffyverse, which is also one of my favourites. It's a series very close to my heart. Hope you enjoyed this one!**


	46. Enigmatic much?

The third task was approaching with a vengeance, time dripping away like water in their cupped hands. No matter how they tried to hold onto it, it slipped through every crack it could find. Winona could see Harry sinking into a pit of nerves and did her best to keep him afloat.

They trained every spare minute, only leaving the Transfiguration room when McGonagall forced them out. With Winona overseeing most of his practise, Hermione and Ron were able to get time in to study for final exams. Hermione was grateful, although Ron looked disappointed that he didn't have an excuse not to work. Winona could relate.

So that's where Winona and Harry were found the day before the final task. In the Transfiguration classroom practising spells on nearly-obliterated test dummies. Harry was casting his spells with a higher degree of enthusiasm, but Winona could tell it was nerves, rather than any sort of renewed work-ethic.

Harry shot another Reductor Curse at the dummy, which was blasted violently out of his path. "I think you've got that one covered," Winona said from the corner where she was halfheartedly sketching on a piece of parchment. "Wanna try the Shield Charm? I'll send a Killing Curse your way to up the stakes."

Anybody else wouldn't have dared bring up the curse that had obliterated Harry's life and left him permanently scarred as a result. But Winona was different – she knew tiptoeing around the subject didn't make it any easier for Harry to live with. Besides, deflecting pain with humour? When you spent every day with the Weasley twins, it came to be all but natural instinct.

Harry pulled a face in her direction. "Funny," he said dryly.

She twirled her wand gracefully around her fingers. "Wanna see if lightning strikes twice?" she asked, wagging her eyebrows teasingly.

"I'm going to curse your eyebrows off if you keep going," Harry warned her. Winona only laughed.

"Hard at work, I see," came her favourite voice, and she looked up to see Fred and George stood in the doorway, watching them.

"Well, Harry's practically an expert by now," she said, scooping her things into her bag and threading the strap over her shoulder. She climbed to her feet, crossing the distance between them and hopping onto her toes to press a kiss on Fred's cheek in greeting. "I figure this is just revision."

Fred took her hand as George pushed past them, heading further into the room full of obliterated practise dummies and split couch cushions. "You mastered the Knee-Reversal Hex yet?" he asked Harry eagerly.

Harry blinked. "I didn't even know that hex existed," he admitted, turning to look at Winona, who was leant in the doorway beside Fred. "Magic can be terrifying sometimes."

"Too right," she agreed before turning to her impish best friend. "George, he's not gonna need the Knee-Reversal Hex in the third task," she said, exasperated.

"You don't know that for sure," George argued. "It could be just the thing that gets him out of trouble!"

"There are a million other spells more important for him to learn," she said sternly, before turning to Harry with amusement dancing in her eyes. "Unless you wanted to stay behind longer and work on that one. George is a _very_ good tutor."

Now Harry looked uncomfortable. "Er, I think I'll be all right, thanks."

"Suit yourself," said George with a shrug. "But when you're facing off with a hag in that maze and the only thing between you and assured survival is a hex aimed right at the knees, you'll be sorry."

It was enough to make Harry laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Come on," said Fred, gripping Winona's hand tightly. "Lunch'll be over soon, and you need to eat before Care of Magical Creatures, or you'll throw up riding a Pegasus again."

Winona scowled. "I told you that in confidence."

Fred's only answer was an innocent beam, and she ignored Harry and George's snickering from behind them. People stared as they walked by, but to Winona's relief they were more focused on Harry. She and Fred had steadily become old news, and now they could walk down the hall with barely a snickered remark from the other students.

Harry hated it, especially when a group of Slytherins flashed their ancient _Potter Stinks_ badges in his face as they passed. Fred flicked his wand once their attention redirected and laughed at their screams of horror when sardines began to shoot from their noses.

"Ignore them, Harry," Winona encouraged him, letting go of Fred's hand to throw an arm over Harry's shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug. They were the same height now, and she knew it wasn't going to be long before he overtook her completely. "They're just jealous you're getting all the attention."

Harry made a sound of frustration. "They can _have_ it," he declared. "It's not like I want it."

If there was a way for Winona to take away the attention and scrutiny her cousin was under, she would siphon it all away, every last drop, until Harry was nothing but a normal, ordinary, unexceptional boy. But even with all the magic in the world at her fingertips, it wasn't possible. Harry Potter was a household name; so was Sirius Black, for that matter.

"Is it weird I'm not famous?" she wondered aloud, making Harry shrug off her arm so he could properly look at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, y'know, cause you and Padfoot are so famous. I'm the odd one out. It's weird, right?"

"Padfoot's _in_famous_,_" George corrected her, swooping in because neither twin could stand not to be the centre of attention at all times, always. "And that's because he's wanted for _mass murder_. I don't think that's the kind of thing you should strive for in life, Win."

And he certainly had a point – but so did she. "I'm just saying, I feel kinda left out," she said lightly, retaking Fred's hand, swinging them in the space between their hips. "Maybe I should rob a bank or something."

"Please don't rob a bank," Fred begged her. "I don't think I could visit you in Azkaban. And even if I could, I doubt they'd let us snog through the bars."

Harry made a loud gagging noise and Winona laughed, kicking her cousin in the shin and squeezing Fred's hand tightly. "All right," she agreed playfully. "Even though, by this point it's pretty much the family business, I won't become a wanted criminal – just for you."

"That's all I ask," Fred nodded sombrely.

Harry shook his head. "You two are ridiculous," he murmured, but there was a small smile on his face that told Winona he didn't hate it quite as much as he pretended to.

"Theoretically, if you were to rob a bank, which were you planning to rob?" George asked. "Because, I hate to say it, but I think you'd just get yourself killed trying to break into Gringotts."

"It'd have to be a Muggle bank for sure," Harry chimed in. "Hagrid himself told me there's no bank safer in the world than Gringotts."

Winona's vision began to flicker and her hand went slack in Fred's grip. She felt her feet come to a halt, but other than that the awareness of her body was gone, disappeared in a flash. She was having a vision, one she'd been in before. She couldn't see anything clearly, but she could hear – as if from a faraway distance – the shattering of glass and the great, echoing roar of a dragon.

"Win?" asked Fred, tugging at her hand, concerned.

Winona blinked back to the present, looking automatically to her lap to find no sketchbook in sight. It appeared she hadn't been out of it long – mere moments had passed. Harry and the twins were staring at her warily.

"Hm?" she hummed, disorientated.

"_You'll need the dragon_," said Fred, a frown pinching at his brow. "That's what you just said."

She tilted her head. "Did I?"

"Who needs the dragon? And when?" asked Harry, anxiety written clear as day across his face. "Does it have something to do with the task tomorrow?"

"Nah, they wouldn't give you a dragon twice. That'd be boring," said George callously. But Harry just stared at Winona, eyes wide and pleading, desperate for answers.

"Sorry," she told him quickly. "I don't know. It was brief…but it seemed kind of distant. Usually when it seems that far away from me, it means it's in the distant future. So I wouldn't worry about it too much just yet."

Despite her reassurance, Harry still looked vaguely ill.

They arrived at the Great Hall, but Winona grabbed at Harry's hand, keeping him out in the entrance hall. "I promise, you don't need to stress," she swore. "Whoever needs a dragon, and whatever they need it for – it's far away from now. Let's focus on getting you through the rest of this godforsaken tournament. Then – and only then – will we worry about the future."

"Now you sound like Sirius," he told her, a tiny bit impish.

Sirius had kept up a constant correspondence with the two of them. He would put his messages to them both in one letter, trying to minimise the chance of it getting intercepted, and Winona and Harry would sit up in the common room late at night reading and replying to his notes.

Harry's mostly consisted of Harry stressing about Voldemort and his Death Eaters, while Winona's were of a more vague nature.

Sirius would ask if she was okay, if she was doing well in her classes. For awhile it was awkward, but eventually they found a good rhythm. She would simply write down the funniest or most interesting thing that had happened in her day, and when Sirius responded, it was usually with an anecdote of his own school days.

_Reminds me of the time James and I tried to shrink the Giant Squid…_

_Hermione sounds like Remus after a particularly bad full moon…only all of the time…_

_This Ginny girl makes me think of Lily – and how one time she hexed James so thoroughly that he couldn't look at leeks without throwing up for years…_

By unspoken agreement, they kept from bringing up Winona's mother – Jessica Potter, James' older sister by not quite a year – and kept to much safer topics. They also stayed far from talking about the time she spent with her parents as a baby. She'd been three when Voldemort had attacked, separating them, and Winona was relieved that Sirius seemed to understand what little she remembered was an out-of-bounds subject.

Fred's hand tugging at her drew her back to the moment, and she let him drag her into the Great Hall after Harry and George. "See you," Winona said to Harry, ruffling his hair playfully. He ducked out of her reach and made for where Ron and Hermione were sitting before she could embarrass him any more.

She and the twins took seats at the table opposite the girls – Lee over at the Ravenclaw table, chatting up his latest victim – and Winona eagerly pulled food onto her plate. "Where've you been?" Hope asked, looking up from the Potions textbook she was cradling. "We've barely seen you at lunch in a month."

"Helping Harry prepare for the task tomorrow," Winona told her around a mouthful of bread.

Hope scowled. "Is that even allowed?"

"What are you gonna do, report me?" Winona snorted with amusement. Hope rolled her eyes, turning back to her book while Angelina and Alicia laughed.

Care of Magical Creatures was rather standard. With exams all but finished with, all they were working on was lazy revision. The class was too abuzz with excitement for the final task the coming day anyway, so Hagrid gave up only a few minutes in and let them do as they pleased.

Winona and Fred drifted away from the rest of the class – most of whom were screeching and running away from Lee, who was holding a handful of mud and threatening to lob it at their faces. The couple took a seat at the base of a nearby tree. Winona pulled out her sketchbook and began to lazily sketch the scene before her, laid in the cradle of Fred's arms while he affectionately tugged at her hair.

"What's going to happen over the Summer?" Fred wondered suddenly, and she looked up from where she was trying to get Lee's dreadlocks just right. He was staring, twisting a lock of her hair around his index finger.

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning her attention back to her work.

"Well, what's your plan? With Sirius not having a…permanent address," he said, surprisingly delicate, "you won't be able to live with him right away, will you?"

Winona blinked down at her drawing, surprised by the sombre topic. He brought up a good point. Now that she was 17 – a legal adult in the eyes of the Ministry – she was under no obligation to stay at her foster house. She was free; she could go anywhere, be anyone. It was a rather harrowing thought; she felt at once rather drunk on it.

"I s'pose not," she agreed mildly. "I haven't really given it much thought. Maybe Sirius and I can rent a motel room or something. I doubt the dementors will think to look in any seedy Muggle motels."

She was still staring down at her work, and Fred's fingers continued to twist and pull gently at her hair, but she got the feeling he wanted to ask her something he couldn't quite find the words for.

"Spit it out," she said, her voice light.

"Well, would you wanna come live at the Burrow?"

Winona's pencil froze where it was pressed against the parchment of her sketchbook. "Live…at…the…Burrow?" she asked stiltedly, feeling oddly like the words were in another language altogether.

"You already spend half your Summers there anyway," Fred reasoned. "And that way we wouldn't have to do this long-distance."

Winona did nothing to smother her grin. "Fred, your mum's not going to let me _move in with you._"

"Sure she is. She loves you," he said cheerfully.

"As your best friend, yes," she countered. "But as your girlfriend?" Something occurred to her and she felt the blood begin to drain from her face. "Oh Merlin," she breathed. "Have you told your mum we're dating?"

Fred's expression pinched in confusion. "Yeah?"

Winona tipped her head backwards until it smacked against his chin, but she didn't care, groaning like somebody had lopped off her arm. "You told her in a letter? Oh shit, I should have sent her a letter too, right? What if she's mad at me? Should I have written to her sooner? What if I-?"

"Win," Fred stopped her with his hands smoothing down the length of her arms. "She's my mum, not my keeper. She wrote back and told me she was thrilled, and that I'd better be a perfect gentlemen or she'd curse my bollocks off."

Winona leaned back far enough to stare at him. "She said that?"

"Not in so many words, but I read between the lines."

Shaking her head, Winona sank back into his arms. "It's just weird, is all. I feel like the dynamic's gonna change."

"It'll be fine, Win," he assured her, beginning to knead his hands into the tense muscles at her shoulders. "You're overthinking it."

"I think you're _under-_thinking it."

Fred smiled into her hair. "Agree to disagree."

They fell back into silence, and Winona slowly returned to her work, dragging the graphite of her pencil against the parchment. It soothed her, along with Fred's clever hands on her back, and soon enough she was soft and pliant in him once again.

But this time Fred was the one with the revelation, and his hands froze on her shoulders. She hummed curiously, looking over her shoulder at him with a raised brow. "How much does he know about me?"

Winona blinked. "Who?"

"Sirius," Fred said, cornflower eyes wide.

"Well, it's not like I've told him about the mole on your thigh," she told him, and his ears went red. He sent her his best scolding look, but it was about as intimidating as a leprechaun in tap shoes. "He knows who you are; that you're my boyfriend and all. Said the Weasleys were a good bunch, and wanted to know if you treat me right. I said yes," she added reassuringly. But Fred didn't look reassured. "Why do you look like you're laying an egg?"

"Your dad isn't just _any_ dad, Win," he said, as if she wasn't aware. "He's _Sirius Black._"

"Shh," Winona hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the class. Nobody was paying them any attention, or was even close enough to hear, too busy playing a game of Exploding Snap on the stoop of Hagrid's hut while the gentle giant himself watched on with a shaking head. "Someone might hear."

"Nobody's listening."

Winona rolled her eyes and shut her sketchbook, twisting around in his lap so she could look at him properly. "Why is his _name_ so frightening?"

His hands settled into place at her hips, and her heart gave a little leap. "You grew up as a Muggle, so you wouldn't know," he explained. "But everyone knew about Sirius Black: Infamous Death Eater, and how he killed twelve people with a single curse. It's kind of hard to separate _that_ Sirius from the one who's your dad."

"But he didn't actually _do_ those things," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but after years of thinking he did…it's just a little daunting. Besides, the bloke's been in Azkaban for over a decade."

She cocked her brow again. "Your point?"

"Well – what if I – y'know, _hurt_ you? I mean, I never would intentionally, but by accident? What if I mess up somehow? Do you think he'll murder me?"

Winona had to laugh. "Fred, you're not gonna hurt me."

"Let's face it, it's probably gonna happen at some point," he insisted, more stressed than she'd seen him in a long time. "Me being me, and all. I'll act cavalier when I shouldn't, make light of something serious, and you'll get hurt and I'll get my bollocks cursed off by _both _of our parents."

Winona stared into his face for a minute, trailing her eyes over the freckles dusting his cheeks like icing sugar on a pastry and the way his eyes glittered in the sunlight streaming down through the trees. "I guess the only solution is for you to promise not to hurt me," she said simply.

"I make that promise every day," he told her fervently. "What if it's not enough?"

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him appraisingly. "You're really _that_ scared you're gonna fuck this up?"

"It haunts me," he said, half playful, half sincere.

She reached up, taking his pale face in her hands and brushing her thumbs over the freckles smattered beneath his eyes. "We're gonna be okay, Fred," she promised him.

But he didn't want to hear it. "You can't know that."

She forced him to look at her again. "Yes I can," she said stubbornly. "I'm a Seer, remember? I'm the authority on any and all future matters. If I say we'll be okay, we'll be okay."

And Fred gazed at her like he never wanted to stop, and she wondered if he saw the same thing in her eyes that she saw in his. The thing she was too afraid to put a name to, scared that if she did the nirvana they'd settled into would shatter like glass.

To compensate, she pressed a kiss to his lips. Keeping it chaste – considering where they were, and the audience they had – Winona reluctantly pulled back, smiling at him softly. "It's you and me, Freddie," she promised him.

And when Fred smiled, it wasn't just with his lips. Dimples appeared in his cheeks and the skin around his eyes crinkled and the blue of his irises seemed to come alive, shifting and flowing like the waves of the ocean. And she fell just a little more in love.

He reached up and she fell still, letting him touch her hair. She was surprised when he pulled back, revealing a small beetle caught between his fingertips. "It's meant to be good luck to find a beetle in your hair," he told her quietly.

"You're making that up," she accused.

"Am not," he insisted, holding out his hand and letting the beetle take off into the air. It seemed awfully keen to get away, little wings buzzing as it fled.

After that bludge of a Care of Magical Creatures class, Winona, Fred and Lee met up with George on their way up to the common room, where he was just coming from Muggle Studies.

"Why do you insist on taking that class?" Winona wondered as they made their way up the changing staircases towards the Tower that served as their home for nine months out of the year. "It can't possibly be teaching you anything worthwhile."

"It's a laugh," said George stubbornly.

They put away their school supplies and played a few rounds of Gobstones until it was time to head down to dinner. The twins led the way, while Winona hung back with Alicia and Lee, both of whom were eagerly discussing the task that was set to take place at lunch the very next day.

By now everyone knew it was a maze the champions had to conquer, because trying to keep a secret at Hogwarts was like trying to hold down a hot air balloon with nothing but your bare hands – pointless and impossible.

"Of course my money's on Harry," said Alicia passionately. "Don't tell me yours is on Cedric."

"Harry's great, but he's only fourteen. Cedric's _seventeen_. You gotta admit, Leesh, the odds aren't in Harry's favour," argued Lee.

"Were the odds in his favour back when he was a defenceless baby and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to use the Killing Curse to destroy him?" she countered without missing a beat.

Winona laughed as Lee tried and failed to form a worthy response. "Face it, Lee," she said, clapping him companionably on the shoulder. "Destroyed-_You-Know-Who-_as-a-baby has no good counter argument."

"All right," Lee gave up. "I cave. You'll find my wit at a gravestone marked with _Here Lies Lee Jordan's Wit. It Died As It Lived; Woefully Under-Appreciated._"

Alicia laughed too, rolling her eyes. "You're such a drama queen."

But Winona couldn't hear them beyond the strange roaring in her ears. A mix of specific noises that all blurred together into something like the rushing of a river by her head. The crackling of a fire, the low groans of somebody in pain, the screams of many voices at once, the sound of wind through nearby trees. Somebody was crying, sobbing uncontrollably, and it hit her hard. If she'd been able to find her eyes, she was sure she'd find them leaking.

The heat of close by flames and a searing pain in her forearm. Cold wind on her face and the reek of nothing but death and rot. Winona thought she was going to choke on the stench of it.

It was all happening so quickly. There was fear and shouting and screams of exertion. Bile climbing up a throat that wasn't her own, panic welling in a chest that wasn't hers, threatening to explode out with all the force of a deadly firework.

Then it was over and she was sucked back through the aether that she'd always said made up the river of time. The Power-That-Be deposited her back into her body and she came out of the vision like somebody breaching the surface of the water.

An arm was hooked around her shoulders and the whole left side of her body was warm with the feeling of another body pressed to hers. Another hand was stroking down her back, a repetitive, soothing motion that calmed her.

"Win?" Fred's voice breathed in her ear, and she opened her eyes to find him sat beside her, concern in his eyes. Alicia was leant over her too, soothing her hand down her back. Glancing up, she saw Lee and George standing around them like their personal security guards, glaring at anybody who stopped to gawk. "Win? You back?" Fred pressed gently.

"Yeah," she said, hoarse from screams she hadn't made.

In her lap sat her sketchbook, and she stared down at the scene she'd drawn. It was just a cauldron, a fire lit beneath it, the liquid within bubbling. There was no colour, but in her mind's eye Winona could see the black matt of the cauldron and the milky white of the liquid inside.

The sketch itself gave away nothing about the prediction, but the sketch itself wasn't important. The real prediction was locked away in her head, whispered to her in a language without words. Winona felt her heart still racing from the vision, and she felt vaguely like she might throw up.

"Blimey, Winnie," breathed Alicia, looking disturbed. "Are you okay?"

"I have to go see Dumbledore," was all she said.

"We'll walk you," Lee offered immediately.

"No, it's fine."

"Win," said Fred, reproachful.

"Really, it's fine," she insisted sternly, climbing swiftly to her feet, distractedly ignoring the hand Fred had held out to help. "Go down to dinner. I'll meet you there."

George peered at her warily, Fred's mouth was twisted in a frown, and the rest of her friends looked varying degrees of perplexed, but Winona ignored it all. None of it was important – none of it – in light of what she'd just Seen.

Her friends still hesitated, but Winona was beyond hanging around to convince them. She turned on her heel and just began to walk. She wanted to run, everything inside of her telling her to get there faster, so she might have a chance at stopping her vision from coming true.

As she climbed the main staircase towards Dumbledore's office, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see Fred hadn't stubbornly followed. She didn't doubt that he'd wanted to, but if she was right – and she generally was – then George had managed to talk him into giving her space. It was for the best, because as much as she'd have loved a hand to hold, this burden was hers alone.

She sped up, pulse beating loudly in her ears.

Surely Dumbledore would take her seriously. Surely he would do what he should have done from the start and put an end to this ridiculous tournament. She wished she knew how he would react, but her head was already swimming from one prediction. She didn't have the space within her to search for another.

The halls were devoid of life, teachers and students alike all down at dinner, no doubt abuzz with gossip and excitement about the final task happening in the morning. Usually she didn't mind it when the halls were quiet, but now it was _too_ empty, the silence ringing in her ears like a noise in and of itself. Winona grit her teeth and soldiered forwards.

She was just passing the Defence classroom – only a floor from Dumbledore's office – when a figure limped out of a doorway, into her path. Winona stumbled to a stop. "Professor Moody," she said, her breaths coming fast from the unexpected exercise of jogging up three flights of castle stairs.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her, gnarled fingers curled around the tip of his walking stick, a snarl on his face. "You look rather worried."

"I – yeah – I need to see Dumbledore – it's rather urgent-"

"Have you had a vision?" Moody demanded as she tried to edge around him, stepping into her path, keeping her where she was.

"Erm, yeah," she said, heart racing in her chest, thundering like it sensed danger and wanted to escape to safety. Her palms were slick with sweat and she wiped them on her robes. "It's really important-"

"Was it about the final task?"

Winona fell still, unsure how to respond. "Sort of," she told him. "That's why I need to get to Dumbledore. Someone's in danger-"

"Who?"

She met his one good eye with a blink of surprise. The way he's barked question had been unexpected. He seemed angry, nearly vibrating with the force of it, and she watched carefully as he pulled free his usual flask and tossed back a mouthful of whatever was inside.

"I don't know yet," she confessed. "But I think – I know – that someone's going to die, so I have to get Dumbledore to stop the-"

Moody surprised her again, this time by laughing. It was an odd sound, a mix between a snarl and a wheeze. He leaned his weight against his walking stick, the grin on his twisted lips anything but pleasant.

"Something funny, sir?" she asked slowly, heart still racing in her chest, this time with even more desperation. Like it knew something she didn't.

"Yes, actually," Moody growled with another ugly chuckle.

Thoroughly weirded out, Winona began to edge around him again. "Right, well, if you don't mind, I've got to-"

Moody pulled his wand on her before she could react. She was so shocked, she had no idea how to react. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, let alone pull her own wand free from the bun atop her head in retaliation.

"Sir?" she asked slowly, hands held up in the way people always did in Muggle cop movies, when they had a gun pulled on them.

Moody's ugly face twisted into something truly furious, and his good eye gleamed like he loathed her with everything he had in him. Winona's hands began to shake and she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was too far away to attack him physically, and too close to pull her own wand or run – both choices of which ended only with her on the nasty end of a curse.

What the hell was Moody doing?

"I've worked far too hard for some _scum_ like you to ruin everything," Moody sneered at her, his wand steady in his hand, uneven teeth exposed in a snarl.

Her eyes widened and she stared at him, realising she was really, properly in trouble. "Professor – what in the actual the hell is going-?"

He cast a nonverbal stunning curse, and all Winona saw was a jet of blinding light before she hit the hard, unforgiving stone wall of the corridor. Pain flared at her ribs as they cracked under the assault, and she felt the back of her head smack hard against the wall. Her world went black before she'd even slid to the floor.

She wasn't sure how long she was out for; it could have been hours or it might have been mere minutes.

Winona dreamt.

She saw a graveyard, dark and misty and haunting. The saw a cauldron full of white potion, watching as it bubbled and frothed. She saw men all around her, silvery masks on their faces and great, black cloaks shrouding their figures in darkness.

The world was wrong, wrong, _wrong._ All around her the graveyard reeked to sweat and blood and rot. A man, shouting something, bright lights. Somebody screaming, "Cedric!"

She could see the corpse, laid flat on the dead grass. The Hufflepuff jersey he wore was clean of blood, but he was dead all the same, handsome face slack and lifeless as his opened eyes stared unseeingly up at the clouded sky.

_Dead dead dead he's dead Cedric died and Harry oh god where was Harry-_

She was brought to by a stinging pain on her face, and Winona opened her eyes in the present with a sharp gasp, tasting blood in her mouth. She tried to bring her hands up to cradle her aching cheek, but they were bound. Slowly but surely, her blurry vision began to clear, and the form of Moody hovering over her came into focus.

Her brain was foggy, her skull throbbing from its contact with the wall and her ribs burning in protest every time she breathed too deeply. "Moody?" she rasped, struggling to make sense of it all. Where was she?

Looking around the room, she realised she recognised it – but only in the vaguest sense. They were in the Defence teacher's office. It looked darker than it had in the past, when Lockhart or Lupin had been using it. Then it had been a welcoming place. Now, it was just cold.

Moody clicked his stubby fingers in her face, but it still took a great deal of concentration for her to return her focus to him. His figure swam in front of her eyes, and the room felt like it were spinning. Her face flared with pain and she had to swallow back mouthful of blood, very nearly gagging in the process.

"What is this?" she demanded hoarsely, staring up at a sneering Moody, fear like a potion bubbling in her veins. "What's going on?"

"This is your own fault, Miss Black," Moody told her, looking so frustrated with her, so disgusted, that it made him look even uglier than usual. "If you hadn't been on your way to the Headmaster… If you hadn't had your little vision… Well, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?"

She stared at him, wondering if he'd escaped from a bloody asylum. "_What_ in the _hell_ are you _talking_ about?" she asked him, slow and deliberate, making sure he understood. "Who are you?"

"That's not important," not-Moody snapped. He reached behind him, gripping a small stool and dragging it towards her so he had somewhere to sit. Winona tried to scoot away from him, but her back was already pressed to a wall. There was nowhere to go. "I need to know everything, Miss Black. _Everything_ you know."

"Well, for starters, there's no word in the English language that rhymes with 'orange'-"

Suddenly there was pain. That was all there was in the whole wide world. Just the kind of pain she'd never even heard of, the kind she could never have imagined. It was like someone had replaced her blood with a corrosive acid. Or she'd been flayed alive and left to rot. Or she'd fallen from the Astronomy Tower into a pit full of needles. Or she was being burned at the stake, Salem-witch style.

_Or_, she realised, _exactly like the Crutiatus Curse._

It was over after a short eternity, and she relaxed her muscles, not having realised she'd tensed them. There wasn't even relief now the curse was lifted; her body still ached and stung from the damage it had caused. For a moment, she'd forgotten what life was like without the pain.

"Well," she panted, struggling to keep her breathing even and her tone blithely cheerful, "if you don't want stupid answers, then just don't ask stupid questions."

Not-Moody stared at her, that same maybe-smile twisting his ugly lips. "You've got fire," he said, fingering the wand he held in his fat, gnarled hands. "He'll like that. Or rather, he'll like putting it _out_."

Winona tried to speak, but her throat burned. She cleared it and tried again. "Enigmatic much?" she snapped. "Can you give a straight answer for once in your life?"

Not-Moody looked almost gleeful as he leant towards her, and that was the scariest part. She'd never seen that look on his face before – except, perhaps, when he'd been torturing that spider in their first Defence lesson. He'd looked just as thrilled to be inflicting pain then, too.

She marvelled at her own stupidity; how could she _ever_ think he was one of the good guys?

"Who are you?" she asked again, voice still little more than a rasp.

Not-Moody gave his chilling leer and replied, "I'm the Dark Lord's most faithful servant. I have won his favour this last year, putting Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire, orchestrating the fate of this entire tournament just to get the Dark Lord the time with Potter that he needed to bring himself back to full power. And just _think_ how he will reward me for bringing him _you…_"

Winona blinked. "Me?" she asked, a note of confusion getting past the foggy terror and the burning pain, enough to bewilder her. "What does You-Know-Who want with _me_?"

"To have you in his service," said Not-Moody. "To have you help him on his path to bring the Wizarding World into a new age-"

"I'd rather die than lift a single finger to help that murderous psychopath so much as sharpen a pencil," she snarled.

Not-Moody didn't seem perturbed. He smiled, as if he found her amusing. "Then you will die," he said like it was of no concern to him. "Because if the Dark Lord cannot have your power, then rest assured that _on one _will."

"Brilliant," she sneered. "I'll certainly sleep better knowing that."

Not-Moody ignored her. "What have you Seen of today's events?"

Winona saw the truth in the words. "It's the day of the final task?!" she asked shrilly. "You've kept me unconscious for a whole night?!"

Not-Moody jabbed his wand at her, its tip poking her hard in the jugular, a warning and a threat. "What have you Seen?" he asked again, and there was no question what would happen to her if she didn't answer him properly.

"Someone's going to die today," she ground out through gritted teeth.

A glee like none other flared in Not-Moody's eyes. "Who?" he asked greedily.

"I don't know-"

The tip of his wand pressed hard enough into her throat that it made it hard to breathe. "Don't lie now, Black," he said carefully, in no uncertain terms.

"Why shouldn't I?" she spat. "You'll kill me either way-"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Not-Moody growled. "I assure you that whether you like it or not, by the end of the day, I'll have you gift-wrapped for the Dark Lord – bows and all."

Winona sneered up at him. "You're a real sick bastard, you know that?"

His wand jabbed again at her throat, and the pressure made her cough. "Who dies today?"

She said nothing; not because the information was too valuable, or dangerous for him to have, but rather because she was too stubborn for her own good. Not-Moody may very well drag her to the feet of Voldemort himself, but that didn't mean she was going to go quietly.

She wondered, suddenly, where her friends were. Maybe they'd thought she'd stayed up late with Dumbledore, so they likely wouldn't have worried – she often disappeared for short periods of time, sketching or meditating or just in one of her moods – but she couldn't imagine Fred wasn't worried.

He knew she'd have come to see him when she got back from Dumbledore. He knew she wouldn't leave Harry's side amongst the chaos of the final task. He _had_ to know something was wrong. But there was nothing linking her to Moody, no way he or anyone else would stop to think he was involved.

She considered the Map, but remembered with a stab of bitter frustration that Not-Moody still had it in his possession. There would be no miraculous rescue, or at least, if there would be, she hadn't Seen it yet.

"Who's going to die today, Black?!" Not-Moody roared, all spittle and breath that smelt like something died. Winona flinched back, but even she wasn't stupid enough to try distracting him again.

"Cedric Diggory," she blurted, remembering the blinding agony of the Crutiatus Curse. Could she handle another one? Would she survive it with her sanity intact? "Wormtail kills Cedric Diggory today."

Not-Moody's expression turned thunderous. "And Potter?"

She hesitated, and it was enough to have Not-Moody raising his wand, the Unforgivable Curse sat ready on his tongue-

"I don't know!" she shouted desperately, a shudder rolling through her skeleton. She shut her eyes, picturing the view from atop the Astronomy Tower. It was a nicer sight than the one before her now. "I mean it, I don't. All I Saw was Diggory. That's all I know, I swear."

Not-Moody grinned. "So you _can_ be obedient," he said, and Winona felt the strong urge to gag again, swallowing it back with a great deal of effort. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Winona glowered up at him hatefully. Her heart raced so furiously, so loudly, she could hear it pounding in her ears, nearly drowning out every other sound. "You might as well kill me now," she spat up at Not-Moody. "Because I'll kill _myself_ before becoming an agent of Voldemort."

"You dare speak his name?!" Not-Moody snarled, jabbing his wand at her again, this time following through.

The world dissolved into nothing but pain. There was only the agony, nothing else. She tried to think about something else – laughing with George, ruffling Harry's untameable hair, kissing Fred – but in the end there was only the pain. It was so strong, it washed away even her memories.

After an eternity the pain disappeared, and Winona was left gasping for breath, the world a fuzzy haze around her. Slowly her sense of hearing returned, and she listened as some nearby clock chimed.

"Ah, that'll be the start of breakfast," said Not-Moody, far too cheerful, far too dark. Winona hated him. She wanted his blood. "Don't worry, Miss Black," he pressed on. "Only a few more hours, and we'll know both our fates."

Before she could ask what he meant – doubtlessly in some unnecessarily smart-arse way – Moody flicked his wand.

She tried to hold onto consciousness, but whatever curse he'd cast was powerful.

As the universe faded to black, Winona thought of Harry, and how much she hated herself for not being able to stop any of this in time. She thought of her cousin, facing Voldemort in that graveyard alone, and then she almost welcomed the enchanted sleep, because the darkness was better than the pain of knowing Harry's fate was beyond her control.

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**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I've been away awhile, life gets in the way sometimes, doesn't it? Slightly shorter chapter here, I hope you don't mind. To make up for the shorter one, I'll update with the next one within a day or two, and it'll be way longer than this way. **

**I haven't been getting as many reviews lately, so I really hope you guys are all still enjoying the story! I'd love to hear your thoughts/theories/ideas. Can't wait to get deeper into the story as we go on. There's still SO MUCH to come!**

**Spotlight review: _Womaninthemoonandherdog_: thanks so much for your review – and wow, kudos for being right on the mark with your theory! I've had this planned for awhile, and the effects of this chapter are going to be felt for awhile yet. I'm glad you like my story, and thanks for the constructive criticism – I do sometimes find Winnie can be a little like that, but being that the majority of the story is written from her POV, it's a little harder to write about her flaws, because she isn't the type to think and obsessed about them like some people. She's got plenty of other things to deal with! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed!**


	47. I felt it when it happened

**A/N: Hey guys, as promised, another update. After this we'll go back to weekly updates again, but I thought I'd make up for taking so long away. I also wanted to thank you for the response to the last chapter, I'm so relieved to know you guys are still liking the story and where it's going!**

**Also just wanted to let you know that this one's a tad wordy and canon-y. I kept in a lot of the conversation parts because it's important to the story that Winona hears all of it, but I summarised where I could. You'll see what I mean further down the line. Mixed into the canon conversations are lots of little original lines and hints and things, so I hope you enjoy nonetheless.**

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When Winona woke up, her first thought was that she'd gone blind.

The world was pitch black around her, her hands still bound together as she lifted them to her face and began to rub at her eyes, hoping to clear them enough to see. But when that didn't work, she looked up and narrowed her eyes, trying to see something – anything.

There was nothing, just more blackness, but she decided she probably wasn't blind – she was likely just locked in some sort of dark prison. Wherever she was, it reeked so much of sweat and urine that it made her eyes sting and her throat seize up.

She tried to speak, but the words flickered and died, tangled in her throat. She cleared it, then tried again. "Hello?!" she shouted, voice hoarse from disuse. "Is anyone there?!"

From somewhere nearby there was a shuffling sound, followed by the huff of somebody taking a laboured breath. She flinched, throwing her bound hands up to her hair, intent on reaching for her wand, but it wasn't there. Her fingers met nothing but her own, ratty hair. Not-Moody – whoever the hell he was – had taken it.

"Who's there?" she demanded nervously, distantly wondering what her chances were of pulling some miraculous feat of powerful wandless magic and lighting up whatever dank cell she'd been stuffed into.

Whoever it was didn't speak, but let out a tiny, muted groan. Heart leaping into her throat, Winona inched forwards, her hands outstretched.

"Hello?" she asked again, quieter than before. Something deep in her gut told her that, whoever her companion may have been, they weren't staying silent of their own accord.

Her hands touched something, and she flinched back on instinct. The person didn't move, just kept breathing in laboured rasps, and she inched forwards again. The person was large and warm, and Winona tentatively ran her hands over their form, trying to figure out who it was.

"Hello?" she said once more. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

The faceless person let out a low groan, and by the deep timbre of the sound, Winona gathered it was a man. Whoever they were, they didn't wake. Slowly, carefully, Winona climbed to her feet, her bound hands held up above her so she wouldn't hit her head on a ceiling. But she was able to stand completely upright and stretch her arms high above her head, and she _still_ didn't touch any sort of ceiling.

Were they in a cave of some kind? A pit? It reeked terribly, the pungent scent making her think that her cellmate had been in this cell far longer than she had. The urge to gag was overwhelming, but the last thing she needed was to add puke to the list of bad smells in their dark, creepy dungeon.

Her cellmate groaned again, this time in pain, or maybe despair, and Winona angled her head down towards them. Her eyes stung with tears, and she was actually kind of glad for the darkness, because it meant nobody could see her cry.

"We're gonna get out of this," she told the other prisoner, trying to sound reassuring and confident, although she wasn't so sure she achieved it. She didn't know who this person was – if they were good or bad, someone she knew or a complete stranger – but she realised with a thrum of panic that he was all she had. Literally the only thing. "You and me; we're gonna be okay," she promised him.

She paused, staring down into the shadows that shrouded him.

"Merlin, I really hope you're not a Death Eater," she mumbled.

Her head was swimming and the ground felt fluid underneath her. The blind panic from waking up in a dark cell began to calm, adrenaline fading just enough for her to begin feeling the pain.

Her whole body ached, skin buzzing and tense, like it were pulled too taut over her skeleton. She figured that was one of the after-effects of the Crutiatus Curse, and she grit her teeth against the feeling. The back of her skull throbbed something fierce, and she lifted her bound hands to gently prod at the spot. Her fingertips brushed a large lump on the underside of her skull and she hissed loudly as pain ricocheted through her head, like the worse migraine imaginable. Her ribs burned with every breath, and they only hurt worse when she pressed her hands to her chest.

She wanted to be somewhere else – _anywhere_ else – and for a moment she imagined simply climbing out of this pit and making her way leisurely to Gryffindor Tower. She imagined climbing up the boys' staircase and sliding into the twins' dorm, finding Fred asleep in his bed. She saw herself curl around him, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth, letting it heal her like its own kind of magic.

But the wish was just that; a wish. The reality was that she'd been trapped in some black pit with an unconscious stranger by a man who was certainly not the real Mad Eye Moody. The reality was that she was in pain – so much so that it threatened to send her back to sleep.

But the pain didn't matter. What mattered was getting out of here to stop the tournament from going ahead; what mattered was keeping Harry – and Cedric Diggory – safe from the harm that was about to befall them.

"Hello?!" she shouted upwards, praying that somebody was around to hear her. "Hello? Is anyone up there?! Help! Please help us!"

She screamed until her throat was raw, she screamed for so long she could swear she tasted blood. But nobody came for her, nobody heard. Tears pricked at her eyes again, sharp and unwelcome, and she was once again glad for the darkness as her lip began to wobble.

"Dammit," she sobbed, feeling along the hard, cold wall of her prison with her bound hands and slowly crouching down, down, down, until she was sat on the sticky floor once again. It was a relief for her ribs to be hunched over rather than stood straight, but the pain didn't disappear. It stayed, like a companion, her bones and muscles throbbing.

Where were her friends? Where were the teachers? Where was _Dumbledore_?

She sat there for an age, surrounded by silence that made her ears ring, trying to figure out how this had happened, how she'd gotten into this situation. Her tears stopped coming, but the darkness never lifted. It pressed in on her from all sides, like a tangible, weighty thing, making it harder and harder to breathe.

She tried shouting again, hoping against hope that someone might pass by wherever they were being held. That somebody would appear and rescue them, chasing the hungry darkness away.

She grew tired, but she didn't want to sleep, too afraid something might happen if she did. That she might miss her chance to get her and her silent companion to safety. Even despite her desperation to stay awake, sleep slowly began to claim her.

Before she could surrender completely, however, she was awoken by a searing pain in her right arm. She screamed, the pain familiar – she'd felt it in her vision, only yesterday – but she knew that this time it was no prediction. This time it was real, a warning, letting her know it was happening now.

The worst part was, it wasn't her own pain. Harry had his forearm slit open, blood forcibly stolen from him, used to reanimate Voldemort and bring him back to full power. She felt the urge to retch again, and it took a great deal of control not to.

Harry was already at the graveyard, which meant Cedric was already dead, which meant – she realised, above all else – she had failed.

The tears came again, the darkness suffocating and all-encompassing. For the first time in perhaps her whole life, Winona let herself cry with total abandon.

She cried for her past, for the family she'd lost all those years ago – her parents and uncles and friends. She cried for her childhood, marked not by birthdays and celebrations, but by foster homes and loneliness. She cried for Sirius, going so many years thinking his whole family dead, imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. She cried for Harry, her baby cousin, the boy with the weight of the entire world sat upon his tiny, wiry, innocent shoulders. She cried for herself, for the fact that she was cursed with this terrible, torturous foreknowledge. She cried because apparently this was how it all ended; her kept in a dark hole to be carted off to Voldemort like some kind of sacrificial offering.

She finally allowed herself to mourn, sat in the endless black of her prison. She hoped it might feel healing, or cleansing in some way. Instead, all it felt was pathetic.

At some point she went from tears to dreams, and in her mind's eye she saw a ghostly pale figure. The person was tall and bald, with skin so smooth and white it looked like they were dead. They wore thick black robes shrouding their body, and their face was deformed, slits where their nose should be. Their eyes snapped open to reveal irises of milky, bloody red, and Winona awoke with a scream.

There were voices nearby, she could hear them, but not with her ears. The cell was still silent and black, but somehow she heard something, like a whisper in her own head, trying to tell her something. On trembling legs she climbed upright, ignoring the way that the ropes binding her wrists together had rubbed her skin raw.

Then a noise – a real, honest-to-Merlin _sound_ – like the clicking of a heavy padlock.

"Help!" she screamed at the invisible space above her head, praying to whoever would listen that someone, _anyone_, would find them. "Help!"

A minute passed, then another, and just when Winona began to panic, thinking it was Not-Moody having returned to finally gift-wrap her for his master, the ceiling above her moved, pulling away to reveal a bright light that burned her sensitive eyes. She flinched, bringing her aching hands up to shield her eyes, but that didn't stop the voices from reaching her.

"Winnie!" a voice shouted, and it took a moment for her to place it around the deafening ringing in her ears.

"Harry," she gasped, tentatively squinting up into the light above to see her cousin stood, alive and in one piece, leaning into the hole she'd been imprisoned in. She'd thought she was out of tears to shed, but impossibly, her eyes began to sting once again. "Oh God, Harry!"

Dumbledore was there too, although far less important. The Headmaster's expression was stormy with fury as he flicked his wand at her hands, and the ropes still binding her wrists dissolved into nothing. Then he reached a hand down into the pit, and Winona didn't hesitate to take it, letting the old wizard pull her up out of her prison with surprising strength.

She barely even had her feet under her before Harry was there, crushing her in a desperate embrace. Her ribs flared and burned under his touch, and when she cried out in pain Harry leapt backwards, horror on his face, eyes foggy with trauma.

"Are you – what's wrong?" he demanded, voice trembling.

"My ribs, I think they're cracked," she told him hoarsely even as she scooped him up in another hug. This time he was more gentle, cradling her in his arms, the both of them shaking so much they nearly vibrated. "I'm so sorry," she said into Harry's shoulder, tears wetting his jersey.

"Win – I can't believe – I didn't know where you were – none of us did – but I never thought…" he trailed off, his voice still trembling. "I'm sorry."

"I saw Cedric," she whispered, squeezing him tighter and ignoring how much it hurt to do so. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I tried to warn Dumbledore, but Moody – or the person pretending to be Moody – he stopped me. I didn't see it coming. I'm so sorry."

They stayed clutching each other like lifelines, and Winona soaked up his presence, letting it wash over her, healing her in a way that went beyond the physical.

"Stunned – controlled by the Imperius Curse – very weak," came Dumbledore's voice, low and deeply troubled. Reluctantly, Winona pulled away from her cousin to glance down into the hole she'd spent the last several hours in, the open top now revealing just who her faceless cellmate had been.

It was Moody, and the sight of him made Winona gasp, gripping Harry's hand and dragging him back with what little strength she had left. But Dumbledore was calm, holding out a hand.

"It's okay, Winona," he said quietly. "This is the _real_ Alastor Moody. He was just as much a victim as you."

Hand trembling in Harry's, Winona nodded once, trying not to grimace too obviously when it made the egg on the back of her head throb in protest.

"Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive," Dumbledore continued in a quieter voice. "Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak – he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."

Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak and climbed out of the offending pit again. Then, he picked up the flask that stood upon the desk – the one Winona recognised as the one Not-Moody would drink from almost every time she saw him – unscrewed it, and upturned its contents onto the floor. A thick, glutinous substance splattered onto the office floor.

"Polyjuice Potion," said Dumbledore needlessly – both she and Harry were familiar with the brew. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair… The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done … on the hour, every hour… We shall see."

Winona tried to ignore the way Not-Moody was in the room, unconscious – probably Stunned – on the floor of the office. She didn't look his way. She didn't want to remember the hungry hatred in his eyes as he'd jabbed his wand at her throat and cast the most vicious of curses.

Dumbledore turned to Winona, old eyes wide and imploring.

"What happened, Winona?"

She cleared her throat, which was still raw and sore from her desperate cries for help, and quietly began to explain. "Last night, just before dinner, I had a vision of Ced-"

She cut herself off, shutting her stinging eyes. It hit her rather suddenly, the reality of it all. A boy was dead; someone her own age; a classmate. She'd been paired with him in second-year Herbology. They hadn't been friends, exactly, but she'd known him. Smiled at him when they passed in the corridors. Bickered with him in class about the proper way to repot a Mandrake. Borrowed some mints on a day she'd forgotten to brush her teeth.

Harry squeezed her hand and she forced her eyes back open. She didn't look at her cousin, knowing she'd only find her own grief mirrored back at her.

"I saw the graveyard, and I saw what was going to happen there," she pressed stubbornly on, staring at Dumbledore intently, refusing to show weakness. She'd been weak enough today for one lifetime. "I was on my way to your office, to tell you and have you stop the tournament, and I took the path that came by this office, because it's quicker, and I ran into, er, _him_," she said, jabbing a finger at Not-Moody's unconscious form. "He knew, somehow, that I was on my way to you. I think he'd been watching me. Waiting to see if I'd have a vision that would put a wrench in his plans."

"And then?"

Winona gulped, gripping tight to Harry's hand and trying not to think about the terror she'd felt – the hopelessness. "And he Stunned me. Knocked me out. I came to in his office, and he, uh…"

"Yes?" pressed Dumbledore, not unkind, but still firm. He needed to know everything, no matter how uncomfortable the truth was to relive.

"He wanted to know what I'd seen. I wouldn't tell him, and then he…" the words got stuck in her throat. Harry's hand, trembling in hers, tightened. It was a tiny comfort, but it gave her the courage to press on. "He used the Crutiatus Curse," she confessed hollowly. "I just – I told him what I knew, because I figured it wouldn't hurt anyone; I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know."

Dumbledore was silent a few moments, considering her words carefully. "Did he say what he intended to do with you?"

Winona's skin was covered in a cold sweat, and she leant into Harry's side, but he gave off very little warmth. "He was going to give me to V-Voldemort," she stammered over the name. She'd had a long time to imagine what Voldemort might do to her once he had her; none of it was pleasant.

Dumbledore turned away from her, walking silently over to Not-Moody's desk and sitting down at the chair.

"Who is it, Dumbledore?" Winona asked impatiently.

"We'll find out shortly, I suppose," he said it airily, and Winona wanted to scowl, but instead she just turned to Harry, who looked hollow and haunted.

If they were going to wait out this imposter's Polyjuice dose, Winona wasn't going to do it without checking on her cousin. She dropped his hand, turning away from Dumbledore so her full attention was on Harry. She picked up his right arm, lifting it to the light with trembling hands so she could push away his sleeve to see the gruesome wound within.

"How does it feel?"

Harry looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"I felt it when it happened," she said, and while it wasn't the clearest answer she'd ever given, somehow Harry seemed to understand. Even with her exhausted limbs, she managed to tear a small section from her shirt and began to gently dab at Harry's wound. "I'm sorry I didn't stop this, Harry."

Harry laughed, but it was utterly without humour. He looked sour, although not at her. Rather at the universe as a whole. It had done them both so dirty. "I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner," he whispered, guilt like a song in his voice. They both watched as she gently tied the piece of fabric around his arm, hoping to cover the bloodied wound some, keep it safe from infection. "I should have known you'd never just disappear like that."

That surprised her. "You didn't think anything was wrong?"

Now he looked ashamed. "Well, Fred and George were really worried. I didn't realise you were missing until they asked me if I knew where you were. I figured you'd gone off to sketch and lost track of time. I thought it was strange that you weren't there at the beginning of the third task, but I was so distracted – I guess I just assumed…"

"It's okay," she assured him. "I understand. You were in a life-or-death situation. I'd probably be more worried if you _were_ focused on where I was."

Harry looked at her – really, truly looked – and Winona knew he was seeing her red, puffy eyes. "Did he hurt you?" he asked in a worried undertone.

She nearly smiled at his concern. Nearly. "Other than the Unforgivable Curse, he mostly left me be," she promised him. "I'm okay, Harry. This wasn't your fault."

When he met her eyes this time, it was with a renewed intensity. "It wasn't yours either, Winnie."

And she really wished she could believe him.

Harry read the look on her face just as clearly as if he'd read her mind, and he sighed, shoulders slumping, but she knew he wasn't angry with her. He understood, surely, that she'd step into Fiendfyre before ever intentionally letting him get hurt. That she had put his safety and protection on her own shoulders a long, long time ago. That she felt responsible for him; because in some ways, they were all one another had.

"Winona," said Dumbledore, his eyes boring into hers. It took her a moment to realise he was holding something out to her, and her eyes snapped down to the object in his hand.

Her wand.

She snatched it from him suddenly, as if she half thought he might take it back and keep it from her longer. The wood was smooth and warm against her skin, the familiar ridges along its body pressing against her palm, soothing her like nothing else could.

Before she could thank the Headmaster, Harry abruptly gasped.

Winona whipped around to stare at the man on the floor as he slowly began to change. The stolen form of Moody disappeared, the body shrinking and growing and twisting into another person entirely. The fake leg popped off to make room for a real one, and so did the magical eye. Winona didn't recognise the man who replaced Moody on the floor, but judging by Harry's intake of breath, her cousin certainly did.

Footsteps hit the floor outside the office, and Winona threw up her wand on instinct, ready to fight tooth and nail to get them out alive. She didn't even feel foolish when she realised it was just Snape and McGonagall returning, but she still hastily lowered it from where it was pointed in their faces.

They weren't alone – the small elf Winona knew to be Winky was stood at Snape's heels, tennis-ball-eyes open wide, glittering with tears she'd yet to shed. "Crouch," Snape breathed, staring at the Death Eater on the floor. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens," murmured Professor McGonagall. Her eyes flickered distractedly to Winona, and then she did a double-take as she realised what she was seeing. "Andrews?!" she gasped, crossing the space between them in only two steps, gripping her arms. Winona tried not to flinch away from the contact. "Are you – what – _Albus_?!"

"The imposter had her locked away, along with the real Alastor Moody," Dumbledore explained briskly, his eyes and attention still focused on Barty Crouch.

McGonagall turned her eyes onto Winona again, horror sparkling in their kind depths. "You look a mess, dear," she said, surprisingly soft as she pushed Winona's tangled hair off her face. "Are you hurt? We should get you to the Hospital Wing-"

"Winona stays too, Minerva," said Dumbledore plainly.

McGonagall looked torn between shouting and passing out right there. She seemed like she could use a stiff drink, and Winona wished she weren't a student just so she could offer the older witch a shot of firewhisky.

The house elf – Winky – let out a loud, high-pitched noise of great distress, scurrying swiftly across the room to throw herself onto Barty Crouch Jr's chest. "Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?" she asked in her pitchy voice. "You is killed him!" she snarled up at Dumbledore when Crouch Jr didn't respond. "You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore calmly. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"

Winona watched, feeling vaguely shellshocked, as Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass vial of clear liquid. Winona might not have passed Potions with anything higher than an Acceptable on her best day, but even she knew Veritaserum when she saw it.

Dumbledore administered the potion to the unconscious Crouch Jr, then pointed his wand at the man's thin chest and said, "_Rennervate._"

Crouch's son opened his eyes. Winona expected him to struggle, maybe try to fight or flee. But instead he just lay slumped against the wall, eyes glassy and unfocused. Winona hated him with such fervour, she was surprised he didn't spontaneously combust under the strength of her lethal glower.

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked, leant down so he was right in the dark wizard's face.

"Yes," Crouch Jr muttered without hesitation.

"I would like you to tell us," said Dumbledore softly, as if asking something pleasant and inconsequential, "how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?"

Crouch Junior didn't answer for a long, drawn-out moment, and Winona got the feeling he was doing his best to avoid answering the question. But Veritaserum was a very powerful potion, and with the amount she'd seen Dumbledore force into his mouth, she was convinced he'd spill his darkest secret if they only asked.

And so they listened and Barty Crouch's son. The heard his tale, from beginning to end. How his mother had taken his place in his cell in Azkaban, and how his father had hidden him away, keeping him under the Imperius Curse so he couldn't escape and return to his master like he so desired. How the house elf had persuaded Crouch Sr. into letting him go to the Quidditch World Cup. How he'd stolen the wand and cast the Dark Mark into the sky, and how Voldemort had returned to liberate him from his father's control.

He'd attacked the real Alastor Moody when they found out he'd be teaching this year at Hogwarts, and he'd replaced him, keeping him locked in that dank cell for the whole year, chopping off clumps of his hair for the Polyjuice Potion.

"My master sent me word of my father's escape," Crouch told them, catching them up to the more recent of events. He was doing his best to fight the Veritaserum, but ultimately he was failing. "He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."

"Map?" asked Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?"

Winona shifted forwards, instinct telling her to protect the map – the thing she and the twins had treasured in their early years at school, the thing that helped Harry in all his endeavours, the thing that her own father and uncle had created during their time at school. It was as close to a family heirloom as Winona was likely to get.

Dumbledore noticed the way she anxiously shifted her weight, icy eyes flickering to her, but she fell still and they just as quickly flicked back to Crouch Jr.

"Potter's map of Hogwarts," he revealed. Winona had never wanted to hit somebody more. "Potter saw me on it. He saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

"For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. The Seer saw what I was planning, she went to get Dumbledore. But I had just enough time to stun Krum and kill my father."

"_No_!" wailed Winky, the sound terrible, and an unpleasant chill ran down the length of Winona's spine. "Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?"

"You killed your father," Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. He didn't seem surprised, whereas Winona's insides were a storm of shock. Who could murder their own father? Who could possibly do such a thing? She hadn't known Sirius long, but the thought of anything ever happening to him was like a knife to the heart. "What did you do with the body?"

"Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Black and Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter and Black bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.

"Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I transfigured my father's body. He became a bone … I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."

Winona felt vaguely sick, thinking that the transfigured body of Barty Crouch lay buried in front of Hagrid's hut. This man was insane – he was the worst kind of loon. He was the kind with a cause behind him, a loyalty to all the wrong things.

Winky continued to sob, gripping Crouch Jr's robes in her little hands, like if she tugged at him hard enough he might admit he was lying. That he hadn't killed her master after all. That everything was going to go back to the way it had been before.

Finally Dumbledore murmured, "And you attacked Miss Black?"

"I used the map. I saw her rushing to the Headmaster's office last night before dinner, and so I intercepted her. She was most anxious to stop the tournament. I knew I couldn't let her reach Dumbledore, so I kidnapped her, got what information I needed, and locked her in my trunk with the real Alastor Moody, so that when the deed was done and my Lord was back to his full strength, I would be able to deliver the Seer to him. He has great plans for her; his newest tool to wield against all those who dare to stand against him."

Winona shuddered again, gripping Harry's hand even more tightly. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain in her body was making her head swim. But she stayed standing, listening to every word. She needed to know the truth. She needed to know what she'd missed.

"And tonight?" Dumbledore demanded.

Crouch Jr gave a proud smile, so wide it showed off every one of his crooked teeth. "I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," he whispered. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

"You said your master had great plans for Miss Black," Dumbledore pressed, the question taking Winona by surprise. "What does he intend to do with her?"

"With the Seer at his side, the Dark Lord will have mastery over all time," Crouch Jr sneered. "His enemies cannot hope to defeat him when he sees all their plans laid out before him."

A powerful wave of hatred and indignation crashed over Winona, making her heady with the force of it. "I will _never_ work for him," she snarled, hands curled into fists, the desire to hit him all-encompassing.

Without looking up at her Dumbledore held out an arm, silently ordering her back. Crouch Jr was smiling now, nearly hysterical, like she'd said something funny. "Black will have no choice," he tittered. "She will be twisted and shaped and forged into my master's most powerful weapon. And with her at his side, he will rule over you all."

When he grinned now, it was with madness shining in his beady eyes. He had told them everything, the truth serum loosening his tongue. But knowing all of this didn't make Winona feel any safer. If anything, all she felt was violated.

She couldn't quite say she'd ever _trusted_ Moody on any level that mattered, but she'd trusted him as far as any student trusted a teacher to keep them safe. Knowing that trust was false; knowing Crouch had been watching her all this time, conspiring to kill Harry and capture her for his Dark Lord's intent – it left Winona feeling (not for the first time that day) like she needed to gag.

And because this time there was nothing stopping her from doing so, Winona took several large steps away from the others, pressed a hand against the stone wall of the dark office, bent at the waist and promptly threw up what little remained in her stomach.

Silence reigned as Winona retched in the corner. She felt a hand rubbing comforting circles onto her back, and by the time she'd finished puking, Dumbledore had Crouch Jr secured with tight ropes and McGonagall was stood next to her, the look on her face sympathetic.

"Sorry," Winona croaked at the Transfiguration professor.

McGonagall's only reply was to flick her wand at the pile of sick in the corner. It vanished in an instant, and Winona felt better now that it was gone.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore quietly, "could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry and Winona upstairs?"

"Of course," she said without a moment's hesitation. Winona noticed she looked slightly nauseous, and felt bad for being sick in front of her. However, when the professor drew her wand and pointed it at Barty Crouch Jr, her hand was steady as stone.

Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."

Snape swept obediently out of the room. "Harry?" Dumbledore said gently, and Winona realised she'd nearly forgotten Harry was there at all.

He looked frightfully pale, swaying where he stood like he might keel over at any moment. He was trembling from head to toe, and although Winona wasn't much better she still didn't hesitate to wind an arm around his waist, taking as much of his weight as she could.

"This way, Winona," said Dumbledore quietly. She nodded, wincing when it made her head swim, then began to gently lead Harry out of Not-Moody's office and up the passageway towards the Headmaster's office. "I want you to come up to my office first," he told them quietly. "Sirius is waiting for us there."

Harry was still trembling, now with such force he was nearly vibrating on the spot. Winona held him tighter, taking a little more of his weight, the only thing she could think to do to help ease his burden.

"You're okay," she whispered to him, eyes stinging again with traitorous tears. Really, how many times could she cry in one night?

Harry didn't appear to hear her. "Professor," he mumbled, eyes glassy and distant. Winona got the feeling he was seeing something none of them ever could. "Where are Mr and Mrs Diggory?"

Dumbledore paused a moment before he answered, and Winona was hit with a wave of grief so strong that this time a tear actually did escape her eye, trailing down the length of her cheek. She'd been right – somebody had died tonight. And she'd forever have to live with the guilt of feeling pure relief over the fact that it hadn't been Harry.

"They are with Professor Sprout," Dumbledore finally told him. His voice trembled, and in that single moment Winona thought he seemed more human than he ever had before. "She was Head of Cedric's House, and knew him best."

They had reached the gargoyle that protected Dumbledore's office. He gave the password and it sprang aside, then he led Harry and Winona up the moving spiral staircase. Dumbledore pushed open the large oak doors to reveal Sirius stood before his desk.

Her father's face was as ashen and gaunt as it had been the night she'd seen him for the first time in that courtyard the year before. He crossed the room so quickly that he almost didn't seem to move at all. One moment he was by the desk and the next he was stood over the two of them, stormy eyes sweeping them, searching for injury.

The moment he saw she was crying, Sirius swept her up into a tight embrace. She cried out again as he squeezed her ribs, and he leapt back at though burned. "Pup?" he asked anxiously.

"My ribs," she whispered, one arm still wrapped around a bleary-eyed Harry. "I think they're broken."

"Who… How?" he asked, voice like the calm before a storm.

"Not important," she said, looking worriedly at Harry.

"I think I would beg to differ."

"I'm fine, Sirius," she lied. She wasn't fine now, but she would be. She'd survive. For now, the focus had to be on Harry. Sirius seemed reluctant tp agree, but his eyes went to his Godson, who was almost entirely being held up by Winona, the look in his eyes distant and foggy.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, dread in his voice. Harry made a low noise that might have been an acknowledgement. Sirius' eyes went dark. "I knew it – I knew something like this – what happened?" he demanded as he helped Winona lower Harry carefully into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Harry still didn't speak, and despite her shaking knees and aching ribs, Winona collapsed to the floor in front of her cousin, looking up into his pale face. "Harry?" she asked gently, hand finding his, holding tight.

"What happened?" Sirius asked again, and she could hear the desperation in his voice. She imagined how scary it must have been – his children had been involved in something horrendous tonight, and he hadn't been able to be there for any of it.

But he were there now, and to Winona, that said everything she needed to know.

Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything that had happened in the last day, and everything that Barty Crouch Jr had said just now in that office. Sirius just about blew a gasket when he learned how Crouch had attacked her and held her prisoner. But Dumbledore was able to calm him, and Winona didn't even look up from her cousin as they spoke.

She had to focus on Harry. She had to _keep_ focusing on Harry. Because if she stopped, she felt like she might fall apart entirely.

She smoothed Harry's perpetually messy hair out of his face. He flinched when her fingertips brushed over his scar, and the subtle movement made Winona frown in concern.

There was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes the phoenix had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on the knee Winona wasn't holding. " 'Lo, Fawkes," whispered Harry as if in a daze. He stroked his trembling fingers down the length of Fawkes' plumage, and Winona watched him, heart heavy like lead in her chest.

Dumbledore finally stopped talking, sitting down opposite them, behind his grand desk. He was staring directly at Harry, who Winona saw was avoiding his eyes. She knew Dumbledore needed to know everything that had happened to him – but to make him relive it immediately? That was just cruel. He needed to rest.

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," said Dumbledore, just as Winona had known he would.

"No," she snapped, turning on the Headmaster with a furious scowl. "He doesn't need this right now. He deserves time to rest. He _needs_ it."

Dumbledore eyed her contemplatively, but to her relief, Sirius backed her up. "Winona's right," he agreed. "We can leave that till morning. For now, let him sleep. Let him _rest_."

But it was like talking to a brick wall. Dumbledore ignored them both and instead looked intently at Harry, who very reluctantly raised his head to meet the Headmaster's deep blue stare.

"If I thought I could help you," Dumbledore began gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

And Winona hated that she knew he had a point. Harry saw it too, and with a thick swallow, he reluctantly began to tell them everything that had happened once he'd reached the cup in the maze.

He told them how Cedric had died, how the potion that revived Voldemort had bubbled, and how Wormtail had been there at his master's side – Sirius made an animalistic sound at that, like he were more dog than human, hatred in his heart. Without stopping to think about it, Winona took her father's hand. It was much larger than hers, calloused and cool, but something about it made her feel safe, like a little girl crossing a busy road.

Sirius gave a shuddering sigh as she gripped his hand, and some of the tension seemed to bleed out of his shoulders. She put her other hand around it too, so she was holding one of his in both of hers, cradling it tenderly.

Winona had always thought she'd never needed parents. She'd gotten by without them well enough; without love or comfort or kindness. But now that Sirius was here, stood over them, tall and concerned, she wondered how she could have ever lived without him in her life. For the first time since she'd learned who he was, she began to think of him as her _dad._

Sirius held tight to Harry's shoulder with the hand not wrapped in his daughter's, and together they were a family, linked in a very literal way.

Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry's shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him. Winona held onto his hand so tightly she thought it must hurt, and as Harry kept speaking, tears spilt from her eyes. She couldn't stop them now, they were coming hot and constant, leaking from her like liquid grief.

When Harry told them about how Wormtail had pierced his arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry started. Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. Harry did as he was told.

"He was bleeding pretty badly," said Winona in a rasp. "I tried to patch him up as best I could…but I didn't have supplies…"

Sirius squeezed her hand. "You did good, Pup," he told her tenderly. Another tear trickled down her cheek.

Dumbledore untied the fabric she'd wrapped around Harry's wound, exposing it to the air and their eyes. It looked ugly and grotesque, and more than anything else, it looked painful.

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," Harry whispered. "He said the protection my – my mother left in me – he'd have it too. And he was right – he could touch me without hurting himself. He touched my face."

The thought of that psychopathic creep laying so much as a finger on Harry made rage burn like poison in her blood. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She hated that, too.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, moving away from Harry and sitting down in his chair once again. Winona let go of her dad's hand to retie the makeshift bandage around Harry's arm. He attempted a grateful smile, but it was more of a grimace, and she squeezed his hand before returning to her dad's side. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please," Dumbledore urged him.

Harry went on; he explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told them how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel. He told them how his and Voldemort's wands had become connected by a beam of golden light, but he fell abruptly silent, something about this detail making it impossible to speak.

Sirius was the one to break the silence. "The wands connected?" he asked, looking from Harry to Dumbledore. "Why?"

Dumbledore seemed to be thinking about something very deeply, and Winona watched him in silence. He always seemed to know everything about everything. Was it his breadth of experience, or was it simply that he really was that calculating?

"_Priori Incantatem_," he finally muttered.

His stared locked with Harry's, and they seemed to share a moment of deep, wordless understanding.

"What's that?" Winona demanded, staring hard at Dumbledore. Was it good? Bad? Dangerous?

"The Reverse Spell effect?" asked Sirius sharply, and Winona tilted her head to look up at him curiously.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. _This_ phoenix, in fact," he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird perched peacefully on Harry's knee.

Harry blinked in slow surprise. "My wand's feather came from Fawkes?"

"Yes," Dumbledore almost smiled. "Mr Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."

"But if their wands have the same core, that means they're like brothers, right?" Winona asked, beginning to understand as she lifted her hand, drying her sticky face with end of her sleeve. "What happens when a wand meets its brother? Will they even work against one another?"

"Indeed they won't," confirmed Dumbledore with a slow nod of his head. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle … a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed – in reverse. The most recent first … and then those which preceded it…"

Winona wasn't sure what that meant, exactly. The spells the wand had performed were reversed? How could a spell be reversed after it had already been cast? Did transfigured things revert back to their initial form? Did stunned victims revive themselves?

"Which means," said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes fixed upon Harry's pallid face, "that some form of Cedric must have reappeared."

Harry looked particularly sick as he nodded. Winona gasped as she realised exactly what that meant. Sirius was similarly surprised. "Diggory came back to life?" he asked sharply.

"No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore heavily. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand … am I correct, Harry?"

Harry began to tremble again, and Winona left her dad's side to instead stand behind Harry, wrapping her arms around his body, folding them over his jutted collarbones and holding him tightly against her. She half expected Harry to shrug her off, but to her surprise, he leaned into the comfort, drawing from her as much as she did from him.

"He spoke to me," her cousin whispered. "The … the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke."

"An echo," corrected Dumbledore, "which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared … less recent victims of Voldemort's wand."

"An old man," Harry told them, his voice a mere croak. "Bertha Jorkins. And…" it was almost like the last of it was too hard to day, and Winona felt her throat seize up at the possibilities.

"Your parents?" Dumbledore finished knowingly.

Harry swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he whispered. Winona hugged him tighter, squeezing him like she could hold all the pieces of him together with just her touch. He needed to know he wasn't alone, that they was there. Both her _and_ Sirius. He still had a family.

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath as Harry confessed to seeing his parents, and Winona could barely imagine how hard it was to hear. The echoes of his very best friends – come alive again for brief moment to see and save their son. Winona thought about how she would feel if it were the the twins in their place, and her hands trembled from the terror the horrible thought wrought.

"The last murders the wand performed," said Dumbledore gravely. "In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows … what did they do?"

Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry's father had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made his final request.

At that Harry stopped talking and Sirius made a sound like he were in pain. Winona looked up at her dad to find his face buried in his own hands. Her lip trembled and she held Harry tighter.

"I will say it again," said Dumbledore steadily. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me – both of you – to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace … Sirius, would you like to stay with them?"

Sirius nodded, and Dumbledore turned to Winona.

"Is there anything you wish to add, Winona?" he asked her quietly. "Barty Crouch spoke to you; held you captive. Did he divulge anything that we haven't already mentioned here tonight?"

Winona slowly shook her head. "Just that Voldemort wants me – my visions – for himself." She sighed, the sound nearly going unheard. "Which I suppose isn't exactly breaking news."

"Well he's not going to get you," declared Sirius, and when she looked over at him, it was to find him looking so set, so defiant, that she almost believed him.

"He said – just after he cast the second Crutiatus Curse-"

"The _what_?" exclaimed Sirius, absolutely livid. "He tortured you?!"

"I'm okay," she assured him quickly. "But he said that by the end of tonight, we'd both know our fates. What do you suppose that means?" she asked Dumbledore.

The Headmaster's expression was grave. "I'm not sure," he admitted, and Winona took another deep, calming breath. The lungful of air made her head spin and she swayed where she stood, held up only by Harry. "You need to get to the Hospital Wing and have your injuries seen to," Dumbledore told her sternly.

She shut her eyes but didn't nod, fearing it might make her sick again. When she opened them again Sirius was there no longer, a great black dog in his place. Winona reluctantly let go of her cousin and gave him space to stand up. He wasn't limping anymore, and at her curious look he nodded to Fawkes. "He healed me," he explained. Winona wanted to squeeze that bird until it burst, she was so grateful.

The walk down to the hospital wing was made in silence. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't easy, either. It was borne from the bone-deep exhaustion of them, but Winona found comfort in threading her fingers through Sirius' thick, shaggy coat, feeling his head bob beneath her hand.

When Dumbledore pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing, it was to reveal Mrs Weasley, Bill, Ron, Hermione and the twins all grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where she and Harry were and what had happened to them.

All of them whipped around as she, Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream at the sight of them.

"Harry! Winona!" she cried hysterically, rushing in their direction. But Dumbledore stepped in her path before she could reach them, forcing her to a stop. Fred had moved forwards, too, but at the sight of Dumbledore acting like a barrier between them, he came to a jerky stop.

"Molly," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Both Harry and Winona have been through a terrible ordeal tonight. Harry has just had to relive his for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. Winona has injuries that must be attended to, and then she needs the same. If they would like you all to stay with them," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, Bill and the twins too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning either of them until they are ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Mrs Weasley nodded obediently, her skin ashen from the ordeal of the evening. She rounded on her gathered children and Hermione as though they were all being terribly noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, "may I ask what-?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry and Winona for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained," he added, a tiny hint of the usual sparkle returning to his eyes. It might have been a relief to see, were Winona not so plagued by grief. "Harry – I will wait while you get into bed. Poppy, Winona, has some rather extensive injuries. I think it's best she's tended to, first."

"Of course," said Madam Pomfrey, scurried forwards, already beginning to flick her wand at Winona, magically scanning her for injuries. "Three broken ribs, extensive bruising, a split lip and a concussion," she tutted, beginning to shepherd her onto the closest nearby bed.

But – almost instinctively – Winona grabbed hold of Harry and stubbornly refused to be prised from him. "Winona," said Dumbledore calmly. She turned her wide eyes onto him. "Harry is safe now. So are you. There is no danger. You can let him go."

Winona didn't move so much as a muscle.

Slowly, Harry turned to look at her. "I'm okay, Winnie," he reassured her. Sirius snuffled at her leg, too, gently nudging her towards the bed. It took a great deal of effort, but eventually she was able to let go of her cousin and follow Madam Pomfrey over to the empty bed.

"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge," Dumbledore informed them as she reluctantly sat down on the starchy covers of the hospital bed. "And I would like you both to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school. Oh, and Winona, it probably goes without saying, but if you have a vision – of _any_ sort – have Madam Pomfrey send for me at once."

"Yes, sir," said Winona quietly, realising now how much her throat ached from overuse. With a satisfied nod, Dumbledore left through the double doors, leaving Winona, Harry and their family alone.

With the Headmaster gone, Madam Pomfrey turned her attention onto Winona while the others crowded into the space between her and Harry's beds, hovering anxiously.

"This will sting, dear," said Madam Pomfrey apologetically. Then, without so much as a countdown, she muttered, "Episkey."

Winona grunted in pain as her cracked ribs snapped back into alignment and healed themselves, heat flaring across her torso. She collapsed back onto the pillows of the bed with a groan, lifting her sore hand up to her face, throwing it over her eyes.

"What did you do to your wrists?" the medi-witch tutted, taking her hands carefully in her own to look over her red, raw and aching wrists. She'd struggled against her bindings so desperately that in some places she'd even broken the skin.

Madam Pomfrey produced a little canister of ointment, leaning forwards to begin rubbing it onto her wrists, only for Winona to flinch back out of instinct. Madam Pomfrey took one look at her terrified eyes and knew she wasn't going to be getting anywhere near her. She sighed quietly.

"Perhaps Mrs Weasley would like to-" she began carefully.

"I'll do it."

It was Fred who'd spoken up. Winona had barely even known he was in the room, she was so distracted by the events of the last day. Now that she looked at him properly, Winona could see he looked about ready to explode with the need to reach for her.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I hardly think it's appropriate-"

"Oh, you'd best just let him do it, Poppy," said Mrs Weasley, looking between Harry and Winona tearfully, as if she didn't know where she needed to focus the most of her worried stare.

"Yeah, they'll be insufferable if you don't," added George, a tiny smile on his lips. Nobody else laughed despite his attempt to ease the tension, but the smile remained on his face, comforting Winona like nothing else.

Madam Pomfrey reluctantly handed the ointment to Fred, then quickly fetched a steaming potion from the cupboard beside the bed. "Very well," she murmured unhappily. "Drink this. It'll heal your concussion, but not instantaneously. Try to avoid sleeping for another hour or so yet."

Winona hummed in distant agreement, taking the vial of potion and tossing it back swiftly, as though it were a shot of firewhisky. It tasted terrible – like the inside of a diseased frog – but she choked it down and relaxed against her pillows as Fred took a seat on the edge of her bed.

Instead of immediately spreading the salve on her wrists, Fred brought her into an extremely gentle embrace. Winona tucked her face into the side of his neck, breathing him in, soaking up his warmth, and she let herself lean there for a long few minutes.

Ron, Hermione, Bill and Mrs Weasley's attention slid to Harry, giving the young couple a moment alone, while George joined his twin at Winona's bedside.

"You've no idea how worried I've been," Fred breathed into her hair, holding her tenderly, as though she might tear like paper if he gripped her too tight.

"It's true," said George, and Winona peeked over Fred's shoulder to find his twin stood there, a relieved look on his face. "He's been an utter wreck."

"Are you all right?" Fred asked, still clutching her to him, like the weight of her against him was the only thing holding him together. "Tell me you're all right."

"I'm fine," she lied again. She didn't want to, didn't feel good about it, but what else could she do? She wasn't the one who'd faced Voldemort. She wasn't the one who'd had her blood stolen and her friend murdered right before her eyes. "_Harry's_ the one who isn't all right," she said, trying to convince herself it was true.

Fred didn't look like he believed her, but she really hadn't expected him to.

"Winona," said a new voice, and she looked up to see Mrs Weasley standing over her, tears shining in her kind, almond eyes.

Winona reluctantly detached herself from Fred to shuffle towards her, and the older woman swept her up in a tight hug, squeezing her almost to the point of suffocation. It didn't hurt as much now that her ribs were healed, but the bruising down her side from where she'd hit the wall still ached as she was held.

"Oh, dear," Mrs Weasley breathed. "We were so worried about you – about you _both…_"

"We're okay," Winona assured her, but it felt too much like another lie. "We're alive," she tried again.

Harry ducked out from behind the curtain, dressed in the clean pyjamas, although dirt and blood still stained his ashen skin. He climbed silently into an empty bed, and Winona wished she had the strength to leave her bed and go sit by his. But she was so exhausted, it pulled at her like an anchor, making her heady with the need to sleep.

Sirius snuffled at the bottom of Harry's bed, then crawled underneath it and laid his head on his paws. His large, dark eyes peered up at Winona, and she nodded at him, reassuring him she was all right.

Fred finally picked up the canister of ointment, screwing off the lid and gently beginning to rub the balm into her raw skin. It was warm against her wounds, but in a soothing sort of way, and Winona sighed, leaning into her boyfriend's touch.

Ron, Hermione took the open seats around Harry's bed, Fred and George sat on Winona's side, Fred still rubbing in the ointment in tiny, soothing circles, while Mrs Weasley and Bill sat in the middle, between them all.

Mrs Weasley sniffled sadly as she smoothed Harry's bedcovers unnecessarily. Madam Pomfrey reappeared with a small bottle of some purple potion, tipping the contents into a goblet and handing it over. "You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," she said gently, all the usual severity gone from her voice. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

Harry didn't even hesitate to take the goblet, throwing back its contents and handing it back with his eyes already heavy-lidded. His eyes slid shut and he went limp, falling immediately into sleep.

Hermione reached over to carefully remove the circular glasses from his face, folding them delicately and placing them on the bedside table for when he woke up. Winona turned to Madam Pomfrey hopefully. "You don't s'pose I could get any of that?"

"Not now, dear," she shook her head. "Like I said, your concussion needs to clear before you can sleep – potion or not."

With that Madam Pomfrey made her way into her back office to do whatever it was she usually did, leaving Winona with the others, relaxed into her pillows but reluctantly forcing herself to stay conscious.

She turned her head to the side, watching Harry sleep in silence for a long few minutes. The others seemed to chewing on their words; she could feel it. She knew they had questions – questions only _she_ had the ability to answer right now – but they were struggling to follow Dumbledore's orders and not demand the answers they were so desperate for.

Nobody said anything – despite the temptation to do so – sitting in blissful quiet. Winona let herself enjoy Fred's ministrations, sighing to herself softly and soaking up the presence of her strange, mismatched sort of family.

"Where's your bag?" George asked suddenly, voice quiet but still disturbing the careful peace.

Winona glanced down at herself, finding herself surprised to find she didn't have it.

Mrs Weasley was still staring at her with tears glittering in her eyes, but Winona expertly avoided her gaze, focusing instead on George, who sat to her left. "I didn't even realise I didn't have it with me," she confessed. "Guess that shows how hectic it's been."

But it hadn't answered George's question, and they all knew it.

Winona shuffled to the side on her bed, making enough space for Fred to climb onto it with her. He glanced self-consciously at the others, his mother only a few feet away, but with Winona staring up at him with her big, sad eyes, he couldn't possibly say no.

He cradled her to him carefully, and she saw Bill eyeing his younger brother with understandable curiosity. The side that came out of Fred when she was around was rarely seen by anyone outside their tiny circle. Bill was so used to Fred being a loud, boisterous ratbag. She could imagine it was strange, seeing him curled around Winona like he wanted to protect her from the world's harm.

She snuggled into Fred, breathing him in, and let herself rest.

At some point, Winona was finally allowed to fall asleep in Fred's arms, her hand resting softly on his broad chest, and she was so exhausted that even without the Dreamless Sleep potion, not even the nightmares seemed able to reach her. She slept without a single bad dream.

Winona was awoken some indeterminate time later by the sound of raised voices, and she roused slowly, nuzzling her head into the side of Fred's neck. "Whass 'appening?" she asked drowsily, finding that the way her body had ached and hurt before she'd fallen asleep was gone. She still felt sore, but the pain wasn't quite down to her bones, like it had been earlier.

"I'm not sure," Fred whispered back. Opening her eyes, she found it was still dark – probably very early in the morning, the hospital wing lit only by a few candles. The sounds of the shouting were coming through the door across from them, and Winona shrank further against Fred when the doors burst violently open.

It was McGonagall and Snape, followed closely by an irate-looking Fudge. McGonagall looked like she ought to have smoke pouring from her ears, and Fudge's face was turning an alarming shade of purple.

McGonagall was shouting at the Minister like he'd murdered her first born, but Fudge wasn't backing down from the fight like any sane person would. Snape just looked apathetic, as per usual.

Still groggy from her short sleep, it took Winona longer than it should have to work out what was happening, and even then, it was only because Dumbledore arrived and got Snape and McGonagall to explain it in no uncertain terms.

"When we told Mr Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape in a low, bored voice, as if he had somewhere better to be, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch-"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall snarled. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but-"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, the words echoing with condescension, "as Minister for Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous-"

But McGonagall spoke over him like he'd said nothing at all, and Winona sat up in bed with Fred, whose arm remained wrapped loosely around her, a protective gesture that certainly didn't make her want to smile.

McGonagall's hands were balled tightly into fists, and some distant, violent part of Winona's brain hoped she'd hit the Minister to shut him. She'd have paid good money to watch McGonagall to punch Fudge clean across the face; and she knew she definitely wasn't alone in that wish.

"The moment that – that _thing_ entered the room," her Head of House screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and – and-"

She didn't seem able to finish her sentence, but she didn't need to. Everybody in the room knew how it was going to end. Barty Crouch Jr was gone; his soul sucked from his body in a fate worse than death. Winona swung her legs around the side of her bed, fury vibrating in her bones.

Fred reached for her, trying to pull her back down, but she ignored him.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" snarled Fudge self-righteously, defending his mistake – if, truly, it had been a mistake at all. Beyond her inner-circle, Winona was no longer sure who she could trust. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, maddeningly calm. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore replied. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked rather like somebody had slapped him clear across the face. He spluttered like words were escaping him, peering at Dumbledore as if he didn't recognise the man stood in front of him.

"You-Know-Who … returned?" he finally stammered. "Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumbledore patiently, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, "you – you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who – back? Come now, come now … certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders – but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. He believed Harry entirely, and Winona felt her hate for him thaw just a little. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Winona looked at her cousin to find him sitting up, wide awake and taut with tension. Sirius was still positioned under his bed, his head raised and his mouth pulled back to reveal sharp teeth clenched in a snarl.

"You are – er – prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, sounding strangely giddy. Sirius growled again, low and threatening, and Fudge shifted his weight, nervous.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore, eyes no longer reminding Winona of ice, but rather fire. They burned as they stared the Minister down. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; and I heard all of Winona's predictions leading up to this moment," he said, voice like steel. "Together, the three make sense. They explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, a young Seer of _questionable_ reputability, and a boy who … well …"

Winona's hands balled into fists, and she felt Fred's hands close over them. "As hot as it would be to watch you knock the Minister for Magic on his arse," Fred whispered in her ear. "I really think now isn't the time."

Reluctantly, Winona uncurled her fists and turned to look at Harry, whose eyes were blazing as he glared up at Fudge. "You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr Fudge," Harry said, sounding perfectly calm, but Winona could sense the storm brewing underneath.

Fudge seemed slightly embarrassed to be called out like that, and Winona felt a dip of pride for her cousin. She had the strongest urge to close the gaps between their two cots and celebrate with a high-five, but she managed to hold herself back.

"And if I have?" Fudge snapped defensively, turning his attention to Dumbledore as if Harry wasn't worth his time. "If I _have_ discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about your students very quiet indeed? Not informing the Ministry of Miss Andrew's _Sight_? Hiding that Potter is a Parselmouth? And having funny turns all over the place-"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" interjected Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly – hallucinations?"

"Are you insinuating that my cousin is crazy?" Winona demanded, her voice hot from her place on the bed. Fudge turned to look at her in surprise, apparently not having noticed her before now.

"Your cousin?" Fudge echoed, as if that were the important part.

"Don't play dumb," Winona snapped at him. "It's awfully unbecoming."

Fudge went purple in the face and lifted a finger in her direction, opening her mouth to let her have it, only for Dumbledore to interrupt before he could get going.

"Listen to me, Cornelius," he said, taking a step toward Fudge, radiating a feeling of great importance. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge scoffed like Dumbledore was talking rubbish. "You'll forgive me, Dumbledore," he spat, "but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before."

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed, but Mrs Weasley forced him back down onto it, keeping him from approaching the Minister, who looked about ready to explode with nervous fury. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy-"

"Malfoy was cleared!" hissed Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family – donations to excellent causes-"

"Macnair!"

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery – Nott – Crabbe – Goyle-"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" argued Fudge, unable to see the correlation between the two. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore – the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too – his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them – the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"Don't you _dare_-" snarled Winona, but Fred's hand slapped over her mouth, muffling the terrible names that were sure to follow.

Thankfully, nobody was around to slap a hand over McGonagall's mouth. "You fool!" she cried, and Winona was reminded again of why McGonagall had always been her favourite teacher. "Cedric Diggory! Mr Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling even more, until he looked more like a frustrated grape than anything else. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Fudge was more concerned with politics and reputation than he was with the safety of their world and all the people in it. He made Winona sick. Convinced Winona wasn't about to go about cussing out the Minister, Fred dropped his hand from her mouth.

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated calmly, voice ringing with the simple truth. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors-"

"Preposterous!" shouted Fudge again.

"Fucking blithering idiot," Winona muttered to Fred under her breath, and her boyfriend smothered a smirk.

"Remove the dementors?" Fudge squawked. "I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was silent, staring at Dumbledore like he'd gone raving mad. Like he wasn't making sense. But as far as Winona was concerned, Fudge was the crazy one. It took a special degree of fool to stay blind to the danger sitting now at their doorstep.

"The second step you must take — and at once," Dumbledore pressed on, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You – you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head and taking several large steps back from Dumbledore, like he felt safer with space between them. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants – people hate them, Dumbledore – end of my career-"

"You are blinded," growled Dumbledore, his voice rising now, the aura of power around him like a tangible thing, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any – and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now – take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act – and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," whispered Fudge, still backing away. "Mad…"

Silence reigned, all of them staring at Fudge, and Fudge staring back like he were surrounded by mentally incompetent strangers. Winona held onto Fred's more tightly, and felt her pulse beginning to calm as he slowly swiped his thumb over the skin on the back of her hand.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore finally broke the tense quiet, voice deep and rumbling, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I shall act as I see fit."

It was a mere statement, but Crouch flinched like Dumbledore had threatened to curse him.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a finger in the Headmaster's face. "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me-"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," said Dumbledore calmly, making Fudge look the fool, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

Fudge fell silent again, rocking his weight back and forwards, anxiously fiddling with the bowler hat he had clutched in pale hands. "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just _can't_ be…"

Snape abruptly made his way forwards, past Dumbledore and all the way up to Fudge, where he pulled up the left sleeve of his robes and shoved his bare forearm in the Minister's face.

"There," he Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

But Fudge wasn't listening, and Winona knew it was a lost cause. There was no getting through to him, but she had to _try._

"You are a fool," she said, and they all turned to look at her in surprise. "I've seen the future, Fudge. I see it every time I close my eyes. These deaths? These disappearances? They're just the beginning. There is pain and suffering coming like none you have ever known. Is the weak grip you have on your illusion of power really so important to you that you would risk the lives of the innocent people you're supposed to _serve_?"

Fudge's eyes were wide, mouth flapping like a fish who didn't know what to say. "Young lady, I am the _Minister for Magic_-" he tried to say importantly, but Winona was so beyond caring.

"Which is why you need to pull your head out of your arse and _listen_," she snapped.

Fred and George let out matching guffaws at her blunt words, but nobody else in the room was laughing. Mrs Weasley looked about ready to melt into the floor in horror. "Just because you have certain _skills, _Miss Andrews-"

"It's Black," Winona corrected him sharply. The room went silent again.

"What?" asked Fudge, going from purple to white in an instant.

"My name," she said, slow and deliberate, "is Winona _Black._" Harry's eyes were wide, and she felt the twins' resounding surprise. "I'm taking back the name your Ministry _stole_ from me."

"You think just because of Rita Skeeter's article you can-"

"Rita Skeeter has nothing to do with this decision – or any other," Winona snapped, but she couldn't help but notice the way everyone around her was shifting – like they all knew something she didn't. She wondered, distantly, what Fudge was talking about. _What_ article?

Fudge narrowed his eyes. "You would do well to remember your place, Miss _Andrews_-" he said snidely.

"You mean the place where I had the Minister for Magic _begging_ me to work for his administration?" she asked innocently. Fudge went still. "You want the power I have for yourself, and if you ever expect to see so much as a lick of the future, you'll listen to what Harry is telling you."

Fudge didn't quite seem to know how to respond to that. He cleared his throat, thinking hard, until finally his expression went hard. Winona knew then that he'd chosen his hill to die on. "I think you greatly overestimate your value, Miss Black," he finally used her name, and she knew the battle was lost.

He turned back to Dumbledore, effectively dismissing her. With his attention finally diverted, Winona sank back against Fred. The rhythm of his heart beating against her was calming, and she tried to match her breathing to his as a way to keep herself distracted.

"I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough," Fudge told Dumbledore in a dark rasp. "I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the room, and stopped at Harry's bed. Winona sat up straight again, knowing that if he so much as looked at her cousin the wrong way, Fred was going to get his wish and watch her knock the Minister to the floor with more than just her words.

"Your winnings," Fudge said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto the bedside table. The coins within made a loud jangling noise, and it looked awfully heavy. Winona had never seen so much money at one time before, and by the way Fred's hand tightened on her hip, she knew neither had he. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving them in terrible, ringing silence.

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**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed – I'll be back again in a week or so with another new chapter.**

**Spotlight review goes to: _kkoni94 – _thanks so much for reviewing, and thanks for your kind words. I like my fanfictions to add and expand on the world they're set in, making my characters fit into the HP universe. It's sort of like a sandbox to play in, and I'm really glad you like the way I incorporate parts of the wizarding world into my story. Thanks again, and I hope you liked this one, too!**


	48. Am I making a scene?

**A/N: Quick warning for explicit content towards the latter half of this chapter. Now you know, so proceed with caution. Enjoy!**

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The moment Fudge had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the rest of them, a severe look on his lined face. "There is work to be done," he said bracingly, and Winona knew nothing had ever been more true.

They'd gone over the precipice Winona had foreseen, and now they were on the other side of things. They were now, and would for evermore be, living in the _after_.

"Molly, am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?" Dumbledore asked Mrs Weasley, blue eyes both intent and hopeful.

"Of course you can," she said immediately. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," said Dumbledore. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," offered Bill, speaking for the first time since Winona had woken up, standing to his feet and meeting Dumbledore's eye. "I'll go now."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry-"

"Leave it to me," said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and kissed his mother on the cheek. He waved to Winona and his brothers, and while Winona wanted to leave her place beside Fred and pull the eldest Weasley sibling into the tightest damn hug he'd ever been given in his life, she was still too weak, so she settled for pinning him with her most imploring stare. "Be safe, Bill," she begged him.

"Of course I will," he replied cheerfully. "I've got a wedding to get to, remember?"

Nobody else understood what that meant, and Mrs Weasley made a sound of frustrated confusion, but to Winona it was loud and clear. She smiled at him with as much strength as she could muster, then watched as he left the room without looking back.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madame Maxime."

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said, turning to their school's medi-witch, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very – very well," Madam Pomfrey seemed startled, but she too did as she was told.

Once the door was closed, sealing them all inside the privacy of the hospital wing, Dumbledore turned to the dog still half-hidden beneath Harry's bed. "And now it is time for two of our number to recognise each other for what they are. Sirius … if you could resume your usual form."

Sirius went from dog to person in the blink of an eye. Winona flinched when Mrs Weasley suddenly shrieked, "Sirius Black!" in a voice of stark terror.

"Mrs Weasley, it's okay," Winona assured her. "He's not going to hurt anyone."

"Him!" snarled Snape before Mrs Weasley could ask any of the thousand or so questions sitting ready on her tongue. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them sternly, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Judging by the looks of utter loathing on their faces, Dumbledore was asking the impossible. But if anyone could pull off a miracle, Winona decided it would probably be Dumbledore.

"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore impatiently, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

Sirius and Snape very reluctantly shook hands, letting go after the shortest possible amount of time. Winona nearly smirked when Sirius wiped his hand on his trousers. She wasn't sure what their issues were, but she could tell they ran deep.

"That will do to be going on with. Now, I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready … if you are prepared…"

"I am," said Snape, steely and hard.

All Dumbledore did was nod. "Then good luck."

Snape left the room at once, robes billowing out behind him. Winona didn't know what his task was to be, but she hoped whatever it was meant she wouldn't have to see him for a very long, long time.

"Sirius," Dumbledore continued, businesslike, "I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But-" argued Harry and Winona at the same time. They'd only just got him back – Winona wanted to talk with him more. About what had happened tonight, about the distant past, about what great plans Voldemort seemed to be cooking up that included, for some reason, her.

But when Sirius turned to look at them it was with regret in his eyes, and Winona knew he was going to be leaving them again no matter what they said to try and sway him otherwise. Only hopefully, she thought, not for so long this time. "You'll both see me very soon," Sirius assured them. "I promise. But I must do what I can. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah … of course I do."

He turned to his daughter expectantly, and Winona was horrified to find her eyes stinging with tears again. When would they stop? "I wanted more time… I thought that over this summer…" she trailed off, the words too painful to say.

Sirius took her hands in his, holding tight. His warm, rough skin was grounding, helping her keep the tears at bay. "I have a plan," he promised her again. "I have to do this first – I _must_ – but we'll be reunited soon."

"What plan?" she asked around the traitorous lump in her throat.

Sirius smiled. "You'll see," he said, bringing her in for a quick embrace. She clung to him tightly, wondering if this was how it always made you feel to be hugged by your dad – small and safe and completely protected. "Soon, Pup," he promised her, pulling back to brush a kiss to her forehead before stepping away and transforming back into his Animagus form at once.

He ran the length of the room to the door, turning the handle with a skilled paw. Then he was gone, disappeared like smoke in the wind. And Winona felt unexpectedly empty. Just as she was sure she was going to cry again, her hand was swept up in another's and she looked over to see Fred beside her, sweet concern on his face.

"I must go downstairs," said Dumbledore quietly. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry, take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

Then he left them, too, and the four Weasleys, Harry, Winona and Hermione were left alone in the hospital wing. Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. "You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," she said softly. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while … think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!" she was trying so hard to sound cheerful, but she wasn't fooling any of them, least of all Harry.

"I don't want that gold," her cousin said flatly. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."

Winona watched, silent, as Harry's eyes turned glassy and crinkled with pain. "It wasn't your fault, Harry," Mrs Weasley whispered.

But Harry wasn't listening. "I told him to take the cup with me," was all he said, but it was all he needed to say. Mrs Weasley pulled him into a tight hug.

Winona looked at Fred and George, both of them looking concerned. She opened her mouth to speak, but she had no idea what she was going to say. She couldn't be bothered pretending she was okay, but she was too broken to talk about how broken she felt. It was a disconcerting irony.

There was a loud slamming noise and Winona gave a violent flinch. Hermione was stood by the window, holding something tight in her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, cheeks pink.

"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs Weasley as she wiped the tears from her face.

Harry took the rest of his potion and was out for the count, slumped against his pillows in an instant. Winona envied him; she doubted sleep would come as easy for her. Mrs Weasley smiled at Harry's slumbering form and Winona leaned back against her pillows, taking a moment to just breathe.

They sat in silence a few minutes, the weight of this new world sinking into them all. But Winona had questions, one in particular that was itching relentlessly beneath her skin.

"What did he mean?" she asked those who remained, looking around at them all expectantly.

"Who, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked.

"Fudge," she said. "Something about an article by Skeeter – but I don't think he meant the one from a few months ago, about me being a Seer."

Ron, Hermione, George and Fred all glanced at one another, something like dread in their eyes. Whatever it was, it was bad, and none of them wanted to be the one to break the news. Finally, Fred spoke up. "Well, it's just – and try not to freak out – but yesterday morning, there was an article in the paper…"

Hermione produced a copy of the previous day's _Prophet_, handing it to Winona, who smoothed it out and stared at the picture of herself on the front cover. It appeared to have been taken in Hogsmeade. She was looking at something in a store window, then glanced at the photographer taking the photo with a dark scowl before turning back to her browsing. It didn't exactly paint her to be a very sweet sort of a person, which could only mean bad news would follow.

Fred fell silent, letting her read.

_Daughter of a Murderer_

_Black Heiress Found at Hogwarts_

_Since that fateful day renowned Death Eater Sirius Black was apprehended by Aurors, it has_

_been believed the Black line ended with him. Today, the _Daily Prophet _exclusively reveals _

_that his heir, Winona Black (daughter of the mass-murderer himself and the late Jessica Potter),_

_was not, in fact, killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers along with her mother in 1978, as the reports would have you believe._

_Winona Black has long gone undetected under the pseudonym of Winona Andrews, hiding away from public scrutiny at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An insider at the Ministry of Magic had this to say about Miss Black's true identity._

"_After the tragic death of Winona Black's mother and the subsequent imprisonment of her father, the administration of 1981, under the rule of Minister Millicent Bagnold, came to the conclusion that it was in the best interests of the child to have her given up for Muggle adoption. Miss Black has since lived in the care of Muggles, and to our knowledge, knows nothing of her true parentage. The Ministry apologises for misleading the people in this matter, and hopes they might understand that what they did, they did in the name of sheltering a child from the shadow of the unspeakable crimes her father had cast. The Ministry asks you to respect Miss Black's privacy at this time."_

_With this revelation also comes to light Miss Black's connection with Harry Potter, whose alarming behaviour has recently been cause for great concern (see page 4 for details). With Miss Black's mother being Mr Potter's aunt, this familial connection makes unstable fourth-year and the would-be Seer known now to be first cousins. Harry Potter was not available for a statement on the matter. The _Daily Prophet_, however, has it on good authority that Miss Black had recently been in contact with her estranged father. With Miss Black being a well-known Seer – the first of genuine pedigree in many years – it is supposed she may have Seen where Sirius Black has been hiding and has contacted him, perhaps to learn more about her heritage, or perhaps to aid her father in avoiding the Ministry's authorities._

_Sirius Black is currently on the run from the Ministry of Magic, after escaping Azkaban Prison late last year. Black was imprisoned for life on thirteen counts of murder and conspiracy with those on the Dark Side in the war. The _Prophet_ would like to urge anybody with any information on where Sirius Black may be hiding to come forwards immediately and help put this infamous mass-murderer back in Azkaban, where he belongs._

Winona stared at the article, wondering if, by some miracle, this were all some terrible nightmare. But the paper looked and felt real in her hands, and the ache of the mottled bruising down her left side told her it was all horribly genuine.

"Win?" asked Fred, after she'd been silent for far too long, no doubt making the others nervous.

"I'm okay," she said it like a reflex even as she stared down at the paper like she were trying to set it on fire with her mind. "How in the _hell_ did she find out?"

"I've no idea," said George with a sympathetic grimace. "What're we going to do about it?"

"There's nothing _to_ do," she replied, suddenly very tired. "It's been printed now. This is one cat we can't stuff back into its bag."

Fred sighed against her temple. "Everyone's going to think you're related to a murderer."

"Yeah, but we all know I'm not, so it's fine," she said, but nobody looked convinced. "I'll admit, this will make things difficult, for awhile, at least."

"You'll be okay," said Hermione from where she was still sat at Harry's bedside. "The buzz will die down quickly, if it's even there at all. With everything that went down at the final task, I think this will be the last thing on everyone's mind."

She was probably right, and Winona was grateful for her cool logic.

"Well, the whole school already thinks I'm some sort of pariah. Might as well give them an actual reason to, right?" she asked with a huff. "Merlin, could this day get any worse?"

Everybody winced, and Winona scowled.

"That was a rhetorical question, guys."

Fred just took the paper back and began to flip through the pages. "You're not the only one Skeeter seems to have it out for," he said mildly, handing it back with another sigh.

_Harry Potter_

"_Disturbed and Dangerous"_

Winona skimmed the article quickly, her fury growing to dangerous levels. George snatched the copy of the _Prophet_ from her hands before she could actually – literally – set it on fire.

"I'm going to kill her," Winona said with terrifying calm. "What a bloody _cow_!"

Mrs Weasley looked rather nervous, and immediately Winona felt bad for reacting so harshly.

"Sorry," she said meekly. Mrs Weasley managed a small smile. She looked pale – almost frightfully so – but Winona supposed it had been a difficult day for them all.

"No matter, dear," Mrs Weasley said softly, reaching forwards to place her warm, motherly hand over the top of Winona's. The touch was comforting, and she relaxed by a few small degrees. "Why don't we focus on the _good_ news, instead?"

Winona's brow pinched in confusion. "Good news?" she asked warily. Did she miss something?

"Well, that you and Fred are an item now, of course!" Mrs Weasley chimed, her expression going from fraught to downright giddy. Winona realised this was the first she was seeing of Mrs Weasley since she and Fred had started dating, and she blushed. "Oh, I was so _pleased_ to get Fred's letter," Fred's mother continued on brightly.

"Um, yeah," Winona said lamely, ignoring the way Fred looked entirely too pleased from beside her. "He and I – we're sort of, um…"

"Together?" Mrs Weasley finished for her. Inexplicably nervous, Winona just nodded her head. Mrs Weasley didn't seem unsupportive or disapproving. If anything, she looked thrilled, smiling widely and bringing Winona in for yet another hug. Her bruises ached, but she ignored them. "Oh, my dear," Mrs Weasley said, the words muffled by Winona's hair. "I'm so happy for the two of you. I knew it was only a matter of time."

Winona's cheeks went from pink to red, and she pinched Fred sharply on the thigh in retaliation for his snickers. She sent a warning look at George, who quickly wiped the smirk off his face, because he knew better than to make her cross.

"Oh, don't be shy, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "You know that you and Harry have always been a part of our family. Now it just makes it official."

Now Fred was the one to look embarrassed. "Mum," he groaned, the tips of his ears flushing pink. "It's not like we're getting married."

His mother wagged a finger in his face. "Never say never, Fred Weasley."

And despite her exhaustion, despite the turmoil and uncertainty and all the trauma she'd been through tonight. Despite knowing with unwavering certainty that this was the beginning of the end, Winona still managed to laugh.

"Oh, but you're happy, aren't you?" Mrs Weasley asked, hands clasped together hopefully.

Winona chanced a glance up at Fred, who glanced back down at her, a familiar, lazy sort of smile on his face. "Yeah, mum," he said, looking back up with a wider smile. Winona nodded in vehement agreement.

Ron made a sound of disgust from where he was still sat next to a slumbering Harry. Mrs Weasley turned on him with fire in her eyes. "Just you wait, Ronald Weasley," she said sternly. "One day it'll be your turn."

Ron flushed scarlet and fell silent, staring out the window like the sunrise fascinated him. Winona giggled, leaning back against Fred and rolling her eyes along with George.

But all too soon their laughter faded, the darkness of reality closing back around them as the smiles slowly melted from their faces.

"Well, I'd best get on," sighed Mrs Weasley. "Arthur will be looking for me after speaking with Bill," she told Winona, Hermione, Ron and the twins, the only people still left lingering in the room apart from the _real_ Mad Eye Moody, who slumbered on in a bed across the room.

She gave the twins a kiss each on the cheek, then hugged Ron to her tightly before doing the same to Hermione and finally Winona. Mrs Weasley's touch was gentle and maternal in the way Winona had only ever known from her. It filled her with warmth, and she squeezed her back with maybe just a touch too much strength, giving away how much she needed it.

When she pulled back, Mrs Weasley was smiling sadly. "You look after that cousin of yours," she said, smoothing Winona's hair away from her face.

"I'll never stop," Winona vowed.

"I'm going to stop by Dumbledore's office on my way out and speak to him about what will happen over the summer," she revealed. "I'm going to request that you and Harry come straight to us after the end of term. How does that sound, dear?"

A lump in her throat, Winona could only nod even despite her personal concerns. Something deep in her gut told her the Burrow wasn't where she was going to be spending the summer, but she didn't feel like acknowledging the future right then, so instead she shoved it away and watched as Mrs Weasley slipped quietly from the room, like one sound too loud might shatter them all to pieces.

Then it was just the five of them left around Harry's beside. Harry slumbered away peacefully, blissfully unaware in the depths of his dreamless sleep. Winona envied him only a little.

Now that nobody else was around, there was nothing to stop her friends from asking for the answers they were so desperate for. Dumbledore's urge to keep their questions to themselves for now wasn't enough to keep them silent, and she might have been irked, were it not so pleasantly predictable.

"What happened?" Ron asked eagerly.

Winona collapsed back against her pillows, head tossed back over the bulge of Fred's upper arm, and sighed. "I wasn't even there for most of it, Ron," she sniped. "In case you've already forgotten, I've been locked in a _trunk_ since yesterday evening."

Ron winced, but he was stubborn as his brothers, pressing on. "But you know what happened," he said, ignoring the way Fred and George glared. "You always know."

This time, the look she sent him was stern. "What I do or don't know doesn't matter. It's Harry's story to tell. Not mine."

There was a beat. "Well, without all the bits about You-Know-Who, can you tell us what happened that you were actually there for?" Hermione asked, rational as always.

And Winona thought that couldn't do any harm. Besides, it would be good to get a few things off her chest.

Fred settled into place beside her once again, a strong and reassuring presence, and she began from when she'd gotten the premonition in the halls on her way to dinner the night before. She told them how Moody (really Barty Crouch Jr) had found her, kept her from going straight to Dumbledore and instead tortured her for information on what she'd Seen.

She didn't spend too long on those parts, particularly when Fred went tense against her, his fingertips nearly bruising as he dug them into her side, tension like a coiled snake under his skin. Winona took his hand without breaking the stride of her story, threading their fingers together and doing her best to soothe him as she spoke.

"You had the Crutiatus Curse performed on you?" Ron asked in an echoing whisper of horror. Winona nodded briskly. "What'd it feel like?"

Her stare was flat. "Like the worst sort of pain you can even imagine, multiplied by about a thousand."

She pressed on then, telling about how she'd been locked in the trunk. How it was so dark she thought she'd gone blind, and how she'd screamed for help until her voice went hoarse. Fred and George looked uncharacteristically grim, but she powered on, telling them how Dumbledore had arrived and rescued her, before adding in all the details she'd heard later.

How Crouch had confessed to being the one to put Harry's name in the goblet of fire after all, and being the one to guide him secretly through all the tasks, ensuring that Harry would find himself in that graveyard at the exact moment Voldemort wanted him there.

Hermione and Ron were horrified, and for once the twins had nothing to say, sat silently as they listened to Winona's recount with stormy expressions on their faces. She told them what she'd heard straight from Crouch Jr's mouth, ending with the very last thing he'd told them, evil eyes narrowed in on hers, hatred and a hunger for power in their dark depths.

"Voldemort's after _you_?" Ron asked loudly.

"I wouldn't say he's _after_ me," Winona said after shushing him with a pointed glance at a slumbering Harry. "I'm not his main target… I'm just sort of an added extra, I s'pose."

"Now, why doesn't that make me feel any better?" Fred mused, tapping the dimple in his chin.

Winona rolled her eyes. "So he wants my Inner Eye all to himself – what's new about that? So does half the population of wizarding Britain. All I've gotta do is keep my head low and my wits about me, and I'll be fine."

Nobody looked convinced. "I think you really ought take this more seriously, Winnie," Hermione said sternly. "You were _kidnapped._"

"Yeah, but only for like a day. It barely even counts."

Hermione was unimpressed. "What do you plan to do over the summer?"

The question twisted her insides into knots – not because she was afraid, but because up until an hour ago she'd been so sure she'd be carving out her place in the world with Sirius at her side. But now Sirius was on his way across the country to alert all of Dumbledore's closest allies to the new threat, and she was alone. Again.

"I dunno," she said quietly, slumping where she sat.

Fred's arm settled over her shoulders and she didn't hesitate to lean into his body. He was so warm in this cold world they suddenly existed in. She soaked up his heat like he were a campfire, resting her temple on his shoulder and breathing in his scent.

"It's like Mum said. You'll stay with us," Fred said, sounding so sure of himself that Winona even almost believed him. "Nothing will happen to you at the Burrow."

Winona mustered a weak smile that he couldn't see. "We'll see," she said calmly, and then they faded into silence, the ticking of a distant clock and their quiet breaths the only sounds filling the big, empty room as one by one, they let sleep claim them.

* * *

The next day dawned and Winona knew she couldn't stay in the Hospital Wing forever – no matter how appealing the thought may have been.

But fairly early on, Harry was called away by Dumbledore to attend a meeting with Cedric's parents, to give them an account of what had actually happened in the graveyard with Voldemort. If anyone deserved to know how and why Cedric really died, it was them.

Once Harry was gone, Hermione and Ron made their way back to the common room to shower and change before lunch, leaving Winona and the twins alone.

She found excuses to linger until lunchtime, but by then even Madam Pomfrey was trying to shoo her out, so Winona reluctantly left with the twins, heading down to the Great Hall just as lunch was kicking off.

"So, now that everyone knows Sirius is my biological father, how d'you suppose I should handle it?" she asked them casually as they made their way through the halls at a leisurely pace. George had disappeared at dawn and returned with Sugar Quills for the lot of them, and Winona sucked on a raspberry one as they walked.

"Handle it?" Fred asked, their joined hands swinging between them.

"Well, do I own it like the Black heiress I am, or do I act unbothered and cool?" she wondered.

"Holy shit," said Fred suddenly, nearly tripping over his own feet. "You're an heiress," he whispered, as though it were some great revelation.

Winona snorted. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm not going to suddenly change just because of a fancy new title."

"Yeah, but I mean…" he trailed off.

George spoke up before his brother could tie himself up into knots trying to funnel his thoughts into a comprehensible sentence. "What he means is, you're filthy rich now, Win."

"Oh," she muttered. That hadn't occurred to her yet. Her eyes turned dreamy. "Maybe now I can buy real, proper canvas to work on," she said, a renewed skip in her step.

Fred eyed her contemplatively. "You're awfully chipper for someone who was the victim of a kidnapping not even twenty-four hours ago."

"Yes, but considering I also _survived _a kidnaping not twenty-four hours ago, I'd say my cheer is justified."

"Hey, I'm not complaining, you know how much I love your smile."

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm serious, I really do," he grinned cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Only for you."

"No, you're impossible for everyone," said George, a look of disgust on his face.

"Get your own conversation," Fred sniped at his brother.

George hooked an arm around Winona's shoulders, tugging her out of Fred's reach. "Why don't _you_ get your own best friend?" he retorted childishly.

Winona giggled at their pointless bickering. All felt right in the world. At least, it did until they made their way into the Great Hall.

While quieter than usual, the Great Hall was still filled with chatter that came to a roaring, screeching halt as Winona stepped into the room. Everyone stared at her, some looking terribly pale and concerned, while others were sneering like she were nothing better than something they found in a drain.

Winona shifted her weight from foot to foot. Fred swept up beside her while George walked ahead, glowering at anyone who dared sneer her way, promising violence if they spoke out of turn.

The rest of their friends were in the middle of their House table, and none of them said a single word as Winona dropped onto the bench opposite them, a Weasley twin on either side. Winona had never felt more alienated, but she tried to smile through the pain. "Wotcher," she greeted them cheerfully. Nobody looked convinced.

Lee's eyebrows were etched high on his brow, and Angelina, Alicia and Katie were all staring at her from across the table with a sting of betrayal in their eyes. Winona said nothing, wondering who would be first to break the silence.

In the end, it was Alicia who spoke up. "First of all, is it true you were kidnapped by that raving lunatic who was pretending to be Moody all year?"

Winona made an exaggerated grimace. "Is nothing in this castle sacred?" she wondered with a small, forced laugh. Nobody else even bothered to try, and so Winona just sighed. "Yeah, it's true."

Lee leant forwards, reaching for her shoulder and squeezing. "You all right, mate?" he asked, sincerely worried.

Winona shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"That's good," Alicia said bracingly, and Winona knew she wasn't anywhere near out of the woods. "And – don't get me wrong, we'll definitely be cycling back to that later for details – but for now, we need to know… Are we going to have to send curses to Rita Skeeter in the mail, or is all of this rubbish printed in the other day's _Prophet_ actually true?"

It occurred to Winona then that she could lie; she could deny it all. But what was the point? She'd have to come clean eventually, once they'd figured out a way to clear Sirius' name and all. So why should she put it off? If not Skeeter, it was only a matter of time before somebody else would have discovered the secret. Nothing stayed hidden for long in a castle like Hogwarts.

"It's true," she said, her voice low to keep eavesdroppers from overhearing. "Sirius Black's my father."

The girls fell silent again, and judging by the surprise on their faces, Winona guessed they'd been expecting her to tell them it was all fake. Guilt hit her like a punch to the gut, and she busied herself with pulling some egg sandwich squares onto her plate and taking a deep gulp of pumpkin juice.

"And how long have you known?" Katie finally asked, voice carefully emotionless, giving Winona not hint as to what was brewing underneath.

Well, the truth was the truth no matter how unpleasant, and she knew her friends deserved it. She took a deep breath, Fred's hand pressed against her thigh for support, and replied, "About a year now."

Her friends all glanced at one another. "Is it true you're in contact with him?" Alicia pressed.

At this Winona paused. She didn't want to lie, but sometimes the truth could be a dangerous thing. "It might be better if I didn't say…" she began awkwardly; after all, innocent though he may have been, Sirius was still a fugitive from the Ministry. "Y'know, what with plausible deniability and all."

"Winona," Katie hissed, disapproval cold in her voice. "He's a _murderer_. You can't just go about owling him because you found out you're related. You could get into serious trouble."

Winona tried to smile. "Would it help matters if I told you he's innocent?"

At that Katie and Alicia just looked pitying, and the force of it twisted uncomfortably in Winona's stomach. "I'm sure you'd like to believe that…" Alicia began delicately. Winona didn't need to be a Seer to see how that conversation was going to end.

"It's fine," she interjected, not wanting to listen to their pity. She didn't want to hear them tell her she was crazy, or stupid, or naïve. She just wanted all of this to go away; maybe crawl into a nice hole somewhere, where she knew she wouldn't be disturbed.

"Did you know?"

It was Angelina who spoke, but when Winona looked over to ask what she meant, she found Angelina wasn't speaking to her at all. Instead her eyes were locked onto Fred, who shrank back a little at the fire in her gaze. He looked over at George as if hoping for help, but his twin lifted his hands in the universal sign of, _You're on your own, buddy_.

"Yeah," Fred admitted. "Winnie told George and I when she found out."

Angelina sighed. "Of course she did."

"What, is that a crime, now?" Winona demanded hotly. The grasp she had on her temper was already waning, and she didn't need Angelina bringing up old shit just because she was in the mood for a fight. If she was going to be petty and cruel, Winona wasn't going to take it lying down. "They're my _best friends_, Ange. I'm free to tell them whatever I damn well please."

"Yeah? Well, we have a right to know who we're sharing a dorm with," Angelina sniped back. Stunned, Winona's jaw dropped open.

"Ange," said Fred reproachfully. "That's out of line."

Angelina opened her mouth – either to apologise or make things worse – but either way, Winona didn't give her the chance. "You can't seriously think that the fact my biological father's a wanted criminal has anything to do with whether or not you can _trust_ me."

Angelina's expression crumbled with indecision, then guilt. She felt bad, Winona could tell, but that didn't make any of it okay. "I just mean we had a right to know," Angelina mumbled, the self-righteousness disappeared from her voice, leaving weak uncertainty in its place.

"No, actually, you didn't," Winona snapped back, because now the fire had been stoked and there was no stopping it from burning down everything in its path. "It's _actually_ not even _slightly_ any of your _goddamn_ business."

"Winnie," murmured Katie, looking around nervously. "You're kind of making a scene."

"Am I?" she demanded hotly, blinded by her rage. "Am I making a scene, Katie?"

"Okay," said Fred loudly, holding out his hands between the two girls, caution on his face. "I think we all just need to take a deep breath and relax."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me to relax," Winona snarled at him. Eyes wide, he smartly shrank away from her burning ire.

"Winnie," came an unexpected voice. Winona turned to see Hermione stood awkwardly in the middle of the aisle. "Um, I was wondering if I could borrow you for something?"

Angelina shook her head. "We're actually in the middle of-"

"Sure, Hermione," said Winona, voice hard as a diamond, and just as pretty. She pushed away from the table, following Hermione out of the hall without looking back.

It wasn't until they were halfway out to the courtyard that Winona realised Hermione had a small basket full of food held in one arm and a blanket tucked under the other.

"We're going on a picnic?" Winona asked in confusion.

"Harry didn't want to eat in the Hall," Hermione told her. "I was getting food when I heard the fight with your friends. I figured you might want an escape."

They stepped out into the sunshine and Winona inhaled a lungful of the crisp air into her lungs, letting it fill every nook and cranny in her whole body. And when she exhaled, the anger went with it. "Thanks, 'Mione," she said gratefully. "I don't know why I snapped like that…I just…"

"You've been through a trauma, Winnie," said Hermione quietly, so much understanding in her voice that Winona thought she just might burst into tears at the sound of it.

Harry and Ron were already sat on another blanket out in the far corner of the courtyard. Winona guessed Ron had transfigured a chair into the blanket, because it was plain white with the image of a chair still knitted into the fabric, and she knew Hermione would never have done such a haphazard job.

"Hey," Winona greeted him, dropping down beside Harry, setting her satchel to the side. Dumbledore had brought it to her early in the morning, and she was relieved to have it at her side again. "How'd this morning go?"

"Terrible," said Harry without any emotion in his voice. Winona watched him in concern as Hermione began to hand out sandwiches and cups that she filled with the _Aguamenti _Charm.

Ron began to talk about their upcoming exams, seeming to sense Harry needed a distraction. But seeing as Harry was exempt from the exams because of the tournament, he had nothing to add. He just sat there, barely nibbling at his lunch, eyes distant and foggy.

"I don't blame you for wanting some space," Winona murmured to him as Ron and Hermione's conversation devolved into petty bickering about the worth of _History of Magic_ as a subject.

("It's vital to our education, Ron! If we don't learn about the past, we're only doomed to repeat the same mistakes!"

"Hermione, knowing the first Goblin Rebellion took place in 1612 isn't going to save me when I'm face-to-face with a Death Eater, is it?!")

"Was it bad in there?" Harry asked, just as quiet, staring unseeingly at his bickering friends. Winona popped another sandwich square into her mouth, chewing as she considered her answer.

"It wasn't great," she confessed once her mouth was empty. "I think Hermione might have oversold the whole 'it'll blow over' thing. Merlin, Harry, everyone was staring at me… _A__gain._"

"Yeah," he whispered. "I know the feeling."

Winona felt bad for not offering up some words of comfort instead. Surely her complaints weren't helping any. "It'll get better, Harry," she tried.

"How do you know?"

She pursed her lips, eyes trailing over her frowning cousin. "Because everything gets better, in the end."

Harry looked unconvinced, and when she smiled, it was rueful.

"You'll see," she told him gently.

Harry's frown deepened. "Are you saying that as a Seer?"

She wasn't – because as far as her Sight went, she hadn't Seen anything that had told her everything would end happily. She hadn't Seen the light at the end of this tunnel, but she supposed that was probably because the bad was so much more demanding than the good. It wouldn't allow her to skip over it. It demanded to be seen.

But that didn't mean she didn't believe good was coming at the end of all of this. That didn't mean she thought the darkness would last forever. She had to believe there was happiness coming at the end of all this; because if there wasn't, then what was the point of it all? What was even the point of being alive?

"I'm saying that," she told Harry softly, "as someone who loves you."

Harry attempted a smile that was more a grimace than anything else, and Winona swooped in to kiss his cheek affectionately before leaping into Hermione and Ron's argument with gusto, because any distraction at this point was certainly a welcome one.

She apologised to Fred for snapping at him later that night. He waved it off. "Don't worry about it," he told her with a careless grin. "You're under a lot of stress, so I've decided you're allowed a maximum of _three_ snaps at me, per day."

She lifted just one of her eyebrows. "Three?"

He nodded sombrely. "I've considered this carefully. I can take it."

"Uh-huh," she hummed. "And how many times a day do you get to snap at me?"

"Oh, only once a month at the _most_," he said seriously. "I'm not a heathen."

The last half month of school was absolutely, completely and totally terrible. Angelina, Katie and Alicia were still cold to Winona over her keeping her real name a secret, so things there were tense. They weren't ignoring her completely, or even being blatantly hostile, but they were colder than they usually were and Winona was left on the outs, no one but the twins and Lee left for her to hang out with.

(Lee didn't care; he was way more easy-going than the others. That and she thought he might have been a tiny bit afraid of her. But it worked out well enough.)

The whole school was treating her like some kind of pariah over her newly discovered heritage. And to make things worse, Winona didn't hear from Sirius at all. Not even once.

She was tired and on edge all the time. What she'd told the others was true – she was safe in Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's protection. But that protection would very soon come to an end when she had to leave the school and fend for herself during the summer.

She wasn't an adult yet by Muggle standards, so as far as the Muggle government was concerned she was stuck at her foster house for at least another year. She figured she could get out of that one by staying in the wizarding world instead, maybe getting someone at the Ministry to inform the Muggle authorities that she was under their care.

She didn't have the whole plan worked out yet, but she knew she had to do something. Despite what she might have told everyone, Crouch's attempt to kidnap her wasn't so easy to stomach. He'd kidnapped her from within Hogwarts' walls, right under Dumbledore's nose. That was likely the only reason she'd made it out of that situation alive.

If it happened again, this time far away from Dumbledore and the protection he offered. Well, she wasn't so sure she'd get lucky twice. She was glad she'd earned her Apparition license during the school year – it would help greatly, particularly if she needed to make a quick getaway.

The twins kept saying they wanted her to come stay with them, but Winona didn't want to put them in danger. Besides, the Weasley's could barely afford to feed their own kids, let alone adding her on top of it all.

By now she had a price on her head; Dumbledore made that very clear. Voldemort was out there, and he wanted her on his side. She didn't doubt that there was nothing he wouldn't do to try and force her to serve him. And that just about scared her half to death.

Exams were finished and over with, and so classes were now little more than a formality. The twins spent most of their time working on the joke products, and Winona would sketch lazily as she watched them work, letting the days trickle by, trying not to think about their terrifying new reality.

"They'll come round eventually, Win," said George optimistically, watching her stare at the girls where they were stood across the courtyard during lunch break. Half the school had decided to eat outside in the rare Scottish sun. Angelina, Alicia and Katie were across from them, playing cards over sandwiches and very pointedly not looking in Winona's direction. "I think they're just to prideful to admit they were wrong."

"I was wrong too," she sighed. "I should have told them."

"Bollocks," said Fred. "You're allowed to have secrets."

She arched a brow. "Except from you?"

"Well, that goes without saying."

The sun was beating down on them, almost too hot against her skin, and Winona decided to head to the library to sketch in the comfort of the shade. "I'll see you later," she began, climbing to her feet, only for a hard body to slam into hers.

With a very uncool yelp, Winona fell to the stones below, blinking up at the blue sky in shock. Her bruises had long since healed from Crouch's attack, but the blow made a memory flicker before her eyes – the feeling of flying through the air and smacking into that wall. She could still hear the click of her hipbone and the crack of her skull as they hit stone.

The memory dispersed like a fog, leaving only reality in its place, a burly seventh-year Hufflepuff glowering down at her hatefully. "Watch it, murder-spawn," snapped the Hufflepuff – Bellamy, if Winona remembered correctly. "What, you didn't See that coming?"

"Hey," cried Fred, leaping to his feet and shoving himself between them. Winona quickly climbed back up to her feet, rubbing the spot where her hip had slammed against the stones below. "Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" Bellamy sneered, jeering at Winona over Fred's shoulder. "Your little attack dogs are gonna go for me?"

"You don't want to know what we'll do," Fred snarled back.

"Fred," said Winona, gripping his elbow and trying to pull him out of the irate Hufflepuff's path. "Leave it."

"Yeah, _Fred_," Bellamy sniped sarcastically. "Why don't you and your little piece run back to whatever hole you crawled out of?"

The Hufflepuffs, in particular, were holding a grudge against Winona. Nobody had ever said it out loud, but she knew it was because they thought she should have found a way to save Diggory. They thought it was her fault he was dead. Her and her crazy cousin. _They_ were to blame. Not the psychopathic murderer who cast the dark curse that actually killed Cedric.

Never mind that she'd been abducted and held against her will by Crouch. Never mind that she'd done everything in her power to help Cedric. Never mind that the guilt of her failure now kept her awake at night, staring at the dark ceiling wondering what, if anything, she could have done differently.

The world was full of injustice.

Fred took a menacing step forwards, and this time it was George who stopped him, stepping between them and shoving Fred back a step. "Keep walking, Bellamy," he said firmly, turning to the staring sea of students and growling, "Nothing to see here."

Seeming to realise he was one against three – and that two of those three were the Weasley twins, who had taken down far worse than him in their time, and that the other was Winona, a student most well-known for flaunting her fist fighting skills and recently revealed daughter of an infamous mass murderer – Bellamy bared his teeth a final time before turning on his heel and striding back through the courtyard.

"Blimey," muttered George, turning back towards them. "Tensions certainly are high, aren't they?"

But Winona wasn't listening. She was so goddamn _sick_ of being treated like a pariah. What had she done that was so bad? Failed to stop something she had no physical control over? Dared to be the child of a man who would later get himself arrested for a murder he didn't even commit? None of this was her fault, and she was sick to death of everyone acting like it was!

Without so much as a word to the twins or anyone else, Winona shouldered the strap of her bag and stormed from the courtyard, ignoring the jeers from another group of bitter Hufflepuffs as she went.

She was halfway down the Charms corridor when she finally heard Fred calling her name past the furious rushing of blood in her ears. She turned, finding him jogging after her, his own bag hanging lazily off his shoulder.

"Ignore them," he said once he'd caught up to her. "They'll get what's coming to him."

Winona said nothing, scared that once she started talking, she might not be able to stop. That all the anxiety and frustration and pain would just bubble and boil over, pouring out of her like sick.

"Win?" he asked, stepping into her personal space, tilting her chin up to try to get her to look in his eyes. "It'll pass. They'll realise they're just being pricks. You've just gotta wait it out."

"I don't _want_ to wait it out, Fred," Winona exploded, hair crackling with magic. Fred's eyes went wide but he didn't move out of her space. "I'm so _sick_ of having no control over _anything._ I'm sick of being at the whim of that goddamn aether. I just want to be a normal witch. Is that too much to ask for?"

"But you're not a normal witch, Win," he said gently, a hint of a fond smile flickering at his lips. "Sorry to say it, love, but you're exceptional. Nothing to be done about it."

She wanted to laugh. She really, really did. But the feeling in her chest wouldn't let her. It was growing, swelling until it pushed against her bones and her arteries, until it filled her throat, making it hard to breathe. The tension in her climbed and climbed until she was sure it would consume her.

Then Fred kissed her. His hands on her shoulders, he drew her against him and kissed her for a long, drawn out moment. It distracted her from her outrage, and when he pulled back she blinked up at him in surprise.

He looked a tad sheepish. "Did that help? I don't know why, but I thought it might."

Winona didn't respond with words. To her left was an old classroom, one she knew hadn't been used in years, and she all but kicked the door open to throw Fred inside. He let out a yelp, stumbling into the room, confused by her actions until she locked the door with a flick of her wand and then slammed him hard against the dusty blackboard.

"Win?" he asked, sounding wary.

"Don't talk," she mumbled, dropping her bag to the floor, forgotten. She gripped the front of his robes, balling the fabric in her fists and using it as leverage to pull him against her. He let out a sound of surprise that was muffled by her mouth as she kissed him.

She was much more thorough than he had been out in the hall, holding him steady, one hand gripping his robes, the other tangled in his hair, kissing him with teeth and tongue. It was wet and filthy and Fred's hands automatically anchored themselves on her waist, holding her against him as she snogged him within an inch of his life.

When she finally pulled back, at least a good five minutes later, Fred's lips were swollen and he looked like he'd just been thumped over the head with something heavy.

"Um," he said, blinking his hooded eyes. She'd be willing to bet his blood was rushing in the opposite direction to his brain, making it difficult to think clearly. She didn't bother giving him time to string together some words, she just gripped the robes covering him and yanked, pulling them clumsily but stubbornly off his body.

He let her manipulate him as she wished, leaving him stood in a Weird Sisters teeshirt and an old pair of holey jeans. She hastily ripped off her own robes, revealing the jean shorts and teeshirt she was wearing underneath, then gripped his hair again to bring him into another kiss.

"Not that I'm not completely loving what's happening right now," Fred began, muttering it around her feverish kisses. "But um, what _is_ happening right now?"

"I'm having my way with you," she told him, beginning to kiss down the long column of his throat.

"Right," he murmured, voice a mere rasp. "Um, why?"

She pulled back from his neck, hands still tangled up in his ginger hair, bowing her body into his so that they were pressed along the lines of each other. "Because I need you," she confessed, staring up into his eyes hopefully. "I really, _really_ need you."

She rocked her hips against the hard line of him in his jeans and his eyes fluttered shut. Taking advantage of his distraction, Winona yanked off his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up, then began kissing her way down the centre of his chest, pausing to nibble every few inches.

The noises Fred made were intoxicating, and they only grew more desperate the lower she got, until finally she was on her knees before him, unzipping his jeans and pulling him out of the slit in his boxers. He tried to grip the wall for traction, but there was nothing but blackboard for him to grab.

"Win," he breathed, head tilted back as she licked a stripe up the long length of him. The groan he gave zinged through her body and settled like molten heat in her core.

She nibbled delicately at the sharp jut of his hip. "Want me to stop?" she whispered against his skin.

"Merlin, no," he breathed.

"I prefer Winona," she replied before taking his head in her mouth and lightly sucking. He made a sound like he were being strangled, and she looked up at him from under her lashes to find him staring down at her with rapture in his eyes.

Working her hand on the section of his shaft she couldn't fit into her mouth, she bobbed along his head, sucking lightly and rubbing her tongue along the sensitive underside. One hand tangled itself in her hair but he made no move to control the speed at which she moved.

This was good – this was better than good – because in that moment, Winona felt more in control than she had the entire last month. She was the one who got the say in what she did, how she moved. Someone else was the one at _her_ mercy. It was intoxicating.

"Win," he croaked out hurriedly, and she got the message, pulling off him with an obscene popping sound. She crawled back up the length of his body, stopping to lick briefly at his nipples before he drew her up the rest of the way to press a filthy kiss to her lips. "Where the _hell_ did you learn that?" he wondered, but just as suddenly realised his mistake, pulling back with a blink.

Winona's control disappeared, and suddenly she felt small under his stare. He knew exactly where she'd learnt it, and they both knew it. The knowledge sat like sludge in her veins, making her feel dirty, and not in the fun way. But Fred's reaction took her by surprise. Instead of pulling back or turning sour, he flipped their positions.

In a flash her shirt was tugged over her head and the surface of the chalkboard was cold and smooth against her back, Fred kissing his way clumsily down her neck. He bit down and sucked over her pulse point until she made a keening noise that had him thrusting himself against her helplessly.

"I hate the thought that he ever got to touch you like this," Fred said against her throat, fingers shakily undoing the button of her shorts and then shoving them down her legs. "I hate the thought that anyone other than me ever heard you make these noises."

She whimpered as she hooked a leg over his hip, feeling the hard length of him press against her so intimately. His hands groped at her arse, keeping her held to him, only her underwear serving as a barrier.

"I want to make you forget you were ever his," he said against her mouth, coaxing her into another thorough kiss that had her toes curling with pleasure.

"Fred," she breathed, biting down on his lower lip and tugging until it dragged slowly out from between her teeth. "I was _never_ his."

Fred groaned again and without hesitation she pulled aside her underwear so he could push inside of her. They both sighed at the feeling, and Winona rocked against him. She was plenty wet enough, more than ready for him, but her body was still fraught with tension, making her tighter than usual.

But Fred was patient, he thumbed at her clit, kissing her leisurely, helping her begin to unwind. He slid further in and they let out a matching noise of satisfaction. Fred's arms were strong around her, holding her up between him and the wall with an ease that took her breath away. He lavished kisses on her collarbone and she wrapped her arms around his head, keening when he thrust at a particularly delicious angle.

"More," she growled. "Harder."

Fred bit down on her shoulder as he did as he was told. Winona whimpered, fingers searching for purchase in the smooth expanse of his back. Her short nails raked down his skin just the way he liked and Fred stopped moving, pressing his forehead against her clavicle and holding her close.

"Fred," she complained, rocking her hips and making Fred shudder against her.

"I'm just…" he trailed off, unable to find words. Winona put her hands on either side of his head, pulling him off her chest, tipping his head up to face hers.

"Hey," she whispered, brushing the shaggy hair from his face. "Stay with me."

Fred gave a low laugh in the back of his throat. "Believe me," he breathed. "I'm with you."

She tugged gently at his hair. "Prove it," she said, quiet and playful and meaning more in the simple two words than what met the eye.

She clenched around him and Fred exhaled sharply against her cleavage as he got moving again, this time with a vengeance. Winona moaned, head tipping back onto the blackboard she was pressed up against. Both his hands were too busy holding her up at the right angle to be any help, so she reached between them herself and began to rub persistently at her clit.

Her pleasure built quickly, speeding onwards with all the force of a train. She shut her eyes tight, feeling Fred's sweat-slicked skin against hers, the feeling of him hot and hard inside of her. She'd fucked Jeremiah against the wall before, but that had felt dirty, like she's been doing something shameful. Like she were nothing more than some whore he'd found on the street. But this, with Fred, it just felt intimate; _hot._

"Please, Fred," she begged, beginning to flutter around him.

Fingers gripping her thighs with enough force to leave bruises, Fred groaned against her and with a final thrust fell still. She was flooded with warmth, and quickly pushed herself that little bit further over the edge, spurred on with the knowledge that she'd brought Fred to this point. She was the reason he was panting, eyes shut, head hanging back with pleasure. She came hard, mewling into Fred's hair as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

Fred abruptly went weak, and together they sank to the floor where their discarded clothes lay, slumped against one another, boneless.

Fred's head stayed rested on her clavicle, and she pet her hand down his hair, feeling his warm breath in the cleavage created by her bra, still attached to her body. She began to chuckle, and Fred lifted his head from her breasts to squint at her. "What's funny?"

She laughed some more, dragging her thumb against the tiniest hint of stubble at his jaw. "I just really needed this," she told him honestly.

Fred's eyes softened. "I know you feel like everyone's against you," he said softly. "But they aren't. At least, not the people who matter most."

And it was exactly what she needed to hear. "As long as I have you, I'm going to be okay," she said, needing to hear herself say it out loud.

Fred smiled, a little tired, but mostly just fond. "Sounds like you're going to be okay forever, then," he said in the tone of somebody settling an argument. It was such a simple thing to say, but the meaning behind it was impossible to ignore, and Winona answered him by drawing him into a deep, languid kiss.

Dressed once again in their clothes, the evidence of their activities – the smudges on the blackboard and the wetness on their thighs – was vanished from existence, and Winona watched as Fred cracked open the door to peer outside.

"All clear," he announced, opening it wider and tugging her out by their linked hands. "Never thought I'd be one for shagging in empty classrooms," he continued conversationally, their hands swinging between them, both in a considerably better mood than when they'd entered the room. "But I think I could get used to it."

Winona shook her head with a smile. "Emergencies only," she said sternly. "I'd prefer a bed any day of the week."

"Sex can be an emergency?" Fred wondered. Winona only chuckled.

That night was the last night before the end of the term, and they had a sombre dinner in the Great Hall. All the decorations were black in honour of Cedric, and Winona toasted to Cedric and Harry both when Dumbledore prompted them to.

After eating – sitting with Harry, Ron and Hermione, rather than their other friends – Winona and the twins made their way up to the common room, George and Fred talking quietly about something or other while Winona wandered after them, linked to Fred by the hand.

The solemn, mournful air of the evening carried over into even Fred and George. While they usually spent the last night of the year by pulling out all the stops – games, fireworks, illegal gambling rings – that night they were quiet, sitting in the corner with Winona and Lee, chatting quietly.

"We all have secrets," Lee had shrugged when she'd seen him after the Skeeter's article had been published. "If you guys knew all of mine, you probably wouldn't even want to be friends with me."

The twins had since taken to a game of trying to guess his great, dark secret. Tonight was obviously no exception.

"Does your mum still cut your sandwiches up into funny shapes for you to eat when you're at home?" Fred guessed, his head in Winona's lap. She gently ran her fingers through his hair. It was still far too long, but she'd gotten used to it over the year, shaggy though it may have been.

"No," sighed Lee, who had tired of their little game rather quickly, and by now looked about ready to bash his head against the wall until he passed out, just so he didn't have to listen to them anymore.

"Are you part Flemish?" George asked. "That would make sense. Nobody likes people from Flanders."

"Fuck's sake, guys," Lee shook his head like he was greatly disappointed in them both.

"Nah, I bet he's got a third nipple," Winona spoke up. Fred and George cackled, and Lee sent her a dark look that only made her grin.

Their game was interrupted by the approach of a trio of girls, and it took Winona a rather long moment to realise it was her so-called friends. Angelina, Katie and Alicia were stood before them, all looking rather sheepish.

"Hi," Winona said cautiously. Were they here to pick a fight? Because she absolutely wasn't in the mood.

"Winnie," said Alicia, apparently their chosen spokesperson. "Can we talk?"

Winona eyed them, wary. "I'm not stopping you," she finally said, and Fred sat upright to throw an arm around her shoulders, eyeing the three girls with the same suspicion as her. Winona might have smiled at his steadfast loyalty were her racing heart not making it so hard to breathe.

"Er – we, we wanted to apologise," Alicia told her, looking uncomfortable. As a blanket rule, Gryffindors weren't generally so great with apologies. It was one of the things that bound them all together as a House. Terrible with apologies and too brash for their own good. That was the Gryffindor way.

"You did?" Winona asked, still suspicious. For weeks it had been all but stony silence in the dorm – or worse, happy chatter until she walked into the room, then an immediate, suffocating silence that was more awkward than anything else. It made her feel alienated and alone, and most nights she just spent up in the boys' dorm until she knew they were all asleep and could sneak in without any of the awkwardness.

"We've realised, recently, that perhaps we've been a bit…" Alicia trailed off uncertainly.

"Cruel? Spiteful? _Bitchy_?" Fred finished for her.

Alicia's eyes flashed, but she couldn't exactly deny it. She shot him a smile that was really more a baring of her teeth. "If you like," she grit out.

Winona swooped in before it could get any worse. "I get that you were mad I lied," she said reasonably.

"Again," said Angelina, reminding them of the other news story that Skeeter had broken that year – the one revealing Winona's status as a confirmed Seer.

"Yes," Winona murmured, eyes narrowed into pins. "Again."

"It's not just that _you_ lied," said Alicia, struggling to keep thing cool. "It's that all three of you knew, and didn't say anything. I think, sometimes, that the rest of us can feel kind of distanced from the three of you."

Winona and the twins stared at her blankly. "What?" George was the one to ask, brow furrowed.

"It's like, we know that we're _all_ friends, but you three, you're on this other level. Like a club within a club that the rest of us don't know how to join," Alicia explained slowly. "We've let it get to us, and we're sorry. Once we'd already gotten so angry…we didn't want to admit we were wrong, so we just stayed angry for the sake of it."

That made sense, and Winona couldn't fault them for it. It was stupid and immature, but even if the Ministry considered them adults at seventeen, the truth was that they were all still just kids. They were allowed to be stupid and immature.

"Why're you apologising it now?" Winona asked slowly.

The girls exchanged a look, and it was Katie who spoke up. "We realised that we didn't want to go on holiday with things still so broken between us all. We want to be friends again, and we want to put all this behind us."

Winona hesitated, because as lovely as the offer was, she couldn't help but see the strings attached. "If you guys are going to get like this every time I keep a secret, I don't know if we can. The things I _See_…sometimes I can't tell anyone – not even Fred and George," she hurried to add at their skeptical looks. "There are just some things I have to keep to myself, sometimes even for the sake of the greater good. And I think I have a right to that level of privacy."

The girls nodded slowly. "Okay," Angelina said, drawing out the word as she thought. "If that's the cost of being friends with you, we can deal with that."

She was surprised Angelina was the one to say as much, but when Angelina smiled tentatively, Winona remembered why they were such good friends in the first place. "I'd really like to be friends again," Winona told them honestly.

Katie sighed with relief. "Merlin, us too," she said. "Do you have any idea how difficult it's been not to talk to you like normal? I have so much to tell you!"

Winona smiled, standing to her feet to pull Katie into a tight hug. "Me too."

Pulling back, she looked at Alicia and Angelina, both of whom still looked a little wary. "If it's a secret directly to do with you – like the Sirius Black thing – will you tell us?" Alicia asked hopefully.

Winona hesitated. "I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, Leesh."

Alicia twiddled her thumbs, thinking it through. "Can you promise to _try_?" she finally asked.

Winona smiled. "Yeah," she said warmly. "I can promise to try."

And Alicia brought her in for a hug, too. Katie had bounded over to George, taking a seat at his feet, and Alicia took a seat on Fred's other side. That just left Angelina. Their relationship was the most complicated, so it made sense she'd be the last to come round.

"We said we'd try to be better friends," said Angelina sadly, taking Winona by surprise. And it was true, they had said that.

"I know," she nodded, guilt cold and uncomfortable in her gut.

"I'm sorry," Angelina added, surprising her again.

"Me too."

Angelina opened her arms for a hug, and Winona squeezed her gratefully, ignoring the way her arsehole friends gave overdramatic 'aw' noises from behind them. Rolling their eyes, the girls reclaimed their seats, and Winona threw her legs over Fred's lap, smiling at him as he rested his hand on her knees.

"In the spirit of complete and total honesty," said Alicia to the group. "Is there anything else anyone wants to share? Just to get things out into the open?"

Everyone was silent for a long, tense moment, before George abruptly blurted, "Winona shagged Jeremiah Nott!"

The group gasped as one, the girls immediately talking over one another, demanding answers, and Winona turned to George with fire in her eyes. "A long time ago," she bit out, warning him with her eyes that there was going to be absolute hell to pay for this.

He shrugged sheepishly. "I thought now that you're happy with Fred, enough time had passed that we can finally laugh about it," he explained. "Plus – I hate secrets. They make me feel dirty."

"You're right, George," she said, deceptively cool. "We can laugh about it now."

Fred made a noise of playful sympathy. "Nice knowing you, Georgie," he said, smirk sitting on his kissable lips. "Say hi to Uncle Fabian in the afterlife."

George went pale, and Winona decided to let him sweat it out. She'd get him back eventually, and when she did, it was going to devastate him.

"But you _shagged_ Jeremiah Nott?" Alicia demanded impatiently. "When was this?"

"Last time was at the beginning of the year," Winona admitted. "So, way before Fred and I were a thing."

The girls exchanged a long glance. "…Was he any good?" Angelina finally asked.

The twins immediately lifted their hands to their ears and began to hum obnoxiously. Winona laughed, ignoring them as she made a so-so motion with her hand. Alicia leant forwards, "Was he better than Fred?"

"Alicia!" Fred squawked, staring at her in horror.

"What?" she asked. "I thought we were trying for complete and total honesty?"

The tips of his ears had turned bright red. "Not _that_ honest," he mumbled, but Winona couldn't help but notice the intrigue in his eyes. Now he was curious.

Biting down on a smirk, Winona slid a hand up his chest and leaned right up to his ear. "For the record, you're a thousand times better in bed than he ever was," she whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You're also bigger, just in case you were wondering."

Although his face had turned a bright, blotchy red, the satisfaction in his eyes couldn't be denied.

"What did you say?!" Katie asked impatiently.

"That's only for me, Fred, and his penis to know," she replied. Fred groaned in embarrassment, and as the others broke out into bright laughter, all was right in the world.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed. Next chapter is the final one for Goblet of Fire, and then we'll be moving onto Order of the Phoenix. Wanted to say a quick thank you to those of you who have been reading from the beginning and reviewing as you go – there's been a lot more of you recently and you make me excited to wake up every day just to see the notifications and read what you guys had to say. You're the best, and I love you.**

**Spotlight review goes to _barucyc_ – thanks for reviewing! When I read that your friend sent you this fic to read, my first thought was shock. It always takes me by surprise to realise this story has a whole life outside of me; that once I press publish, it becomes something for you all to share and talk about and lose sleep to read. It means the world, and I'm so pleased you like it. Hope you liked this chapter!**


	49. We should start a club!

Despite smoothing things over with the girls and making Fred turn a delicious shade of red, that night Winona still got hardly any sleep. What little she did get was plagued by the most horrendous type of nightmares, and eventually she just gave up trying. An hour or so before the sun came up, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and walked bleary-eyed from the dorm.

The fire was still crackling away down in the common room, meaning somebody had been tending to it, and when she arrived at the foot of the stairs she found a familiar head of messy, inky black hair sat on the couch by the hearth.

Harry was staring into the flames, a mug of something hot in his hands. He looked up as she approached, but he didn't seem surprised to see her. "Hey, Winnie," he said quietly as she settled into the spot on the couch beside him. Without hesitation she lifted the blanket she was holding, draping it over his shoulders, too. "Can't sleep?"

"Never," she admitted with a soft sigh. "Nightmares."

"Visions?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, but they're not clear. Sometimes I think I just get them as punishment."

"Punishment?" he echoed. "Punishment for what?"

To that, Winona had no answer. "Where'd you get the hot chocolate?" she wondered, blatantly changing the subject, and Harry was just sweet enough to let her.

"I have an in with a House Elf," he confessed. "I usually don't abuse the privilege, but I needed something warm to drink." He paused, looking up at her in alarm. "Don't tell-"

"Hermione," she finished knowingly. "Don't worry, Boy-Wonder, my lips are sealed."

Harry held out the mug in offering. "Want a sip?"

She smiled as she took it, taking a deep sip of the hot, chocolatey goodness inside. It tasted just a tiny bit like cinnamon, and it warmed her from the inside out. "You couldn't sleep, either?" she asked as she handed it back, tugging the blanket around them tighter.

"I haven't really slept since…" he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish that particular thought. It didn't take a Seer to know what he was going to say.

And despite the fact that neither had she, Winona still said, "That isn't healthy," in her most admonishing tone of voice.

His eyebrows raised on his forehead, the skin around his famous scar folding and crinkling with incredulity. "Bit rich, coming from you, isn't it?"

"Haven't I ever told you?" she replied cheerfully. "None of the rules apply to me." Harry didn't quite smile, but he rolled his eyes, and that was good enough for her. She bumped his side with her own.

"Did the twins tell you Mrs Weasley tried to get Dumbledore to agree to let me stay with them this summer?" he asked after a few minutes of easy quiet.

"I knew she was going to ask," she said, looking over at him, his face lit up by the glow of the fire. "But I never heard the outcome. What did he say?"

"He said no," Harry told her, the way his lips pressed together telling him exactly what he thought of that. "I don't get it; he knows how much the Dursleys hate me. Why does he keep making me go back?"

"You heard what he said," she reasoned. "At the Dursley's, your mother's protection keeps you safe. If you were to leave, Voldemort might be able to find you. And if he finds you, Harry, then it's all over."

Harry didn't say anything to that, eyes fixed on the crackling flames. "I'd rather risk him finding me than have to go back to that place for one more minute," he whispered, the truth behind the words ringing clear, and for a moment Winona felt a burning rage towards Dumbledore. The awful feeling boiled and stewed in her gut like the contents of a lit cauldron. Winona took a deep breath, trying to rid herself of the unpleasant sensation.

Hatred did nothing but breed hatred. Shouting at the world wasn't going to make it any fairer; and no matter how good it felt to try, all that did was invite the chaos in. She had to be better than that.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, and Winona realised she'd been silent for too long, staring wordlessly into the flickering flames and overthinking, as per usual. "Over the summer, I mean?"

"I dunno," she admitted. "My plan is just to apparate back to my foster place once I get to King's Cross. I figure I'll camp out there for a few days, until I figure out what to do."

Harry didn't look happy with the bare-bones of her terrible plan. "Voldemort's after you, too, Winnie," he reminded her. "And you don't have anything protecting you there. You might as well paint a target on your back and go sit out on your roof."

"Don't worry about me," she insisted. "I'm seventeen now, remember? I can do magic away from school, so I can look after myself just fine. Besides, I have my Apparition license now, too. The Death Eaters can't torture me if they can't catch me."

Harry was neither convinced nor amused. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I," she agreed, and they left it at that.

Harry fell silent for so long that Winona grew worried, but then his head tipped down against her shoulder and she realised he'd just fallen asleep. Smiling, she took the empty mug from his limp hands and set it on the ground, then pulled her blanket tighter around them both and waited for the sun to rise.

The next day dawned, and Winona woke Harry once people started appearing in the common room. Bleary-eyed and yawning, Harry made his way up to his dorm while Winona went to hers. Her things were already packed from the night before, so she just showered and changed into fresh jeans and a teeshirt with a stencil of a unicorn traced onto the front.

By that point the girls were awake, too, taming their hair and brushing their teeth before it was time to go down to the Entrance Hall to get the carriages back to Hogsmeade Station where the Hogwarts Express would be waiting to take them back to London.

She walked down through the castle with the girls, Fred and George having already booked it down to breakfast. They found them in the entrance hall, tossing no-heat fireworks between one another, much to the awe and delight of the younger students.

Winona pecked Fred on the lips as she passed, waving at George and heading through to grab a quick bite to eat before the carriages arrived. She scoffed down her strawberry pancakes, silently acknowledging that it was likely to be her last good meal for months, then sent a silent goodbye to the Great Hall as she followed her friends out to the carriages.

She caught sight of the twins stood beside a ranting McGonagall, telling them off for one thing or another, but when she caught Fred's eye he waved her along, telling her without words that he'd meet her on the train.

Shrugging, she caught up with the girls as they climbed into a Thestral led carriage. The girls were all chattering about their summer plans, and Winona – having none – was content to just sit there and listen to them prattle on. It was easy and mindless, and Winona found comfort in it, listening to them laugh and talk excitedly about seeing their families.

"I, er, I don't suppose you'll be seeing your…father…will you, Winnie?" Alicia asked stiltedly. Winona was warmed by the fact that they were making an effort, awkward though it may have been.

"I don't know," she said, glad it was the truth. "We haven't made any plans to meet up."

"Well, that's a relief," said Angelina, then winced at her own thoughtless words. "Sorry," she apologised immediately. "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay, Ange," Winona assured her. "I know what you meant. Don't worry, one day soon I'll get his name cleared, and then you can hear the whole story of how he was framed, and why."

The girls all looked uncomfortable with her fervent promise, but Winona didn't mind, smiling at them just a little bit cheekily.

"Come on," she pressed. "Don't stop talking now. Leesh, you were saying something about visiting your grandmother in Greece?"

And just like that the awkwardness was snuffed like a light and levity returned to the carriage. Soon enough they reached the station, and Winona climbed onto the Hogwarts Express with a weight like a stone in her heart. She didn't want to leave Hogwarts, for more reasons than one.

For one thing, the protection it offered was very real, and the scenery was perfect for her cluttered mind. The thing she hated most about going back to London every summer had always been losing her access to distant mountains and glittering lake. It did terrible things to her creativity to be stuck in a room with four walls and a perfect view of the side of her neighbour's concrete house.

The girls found a carriage near the back of the train and the moment they were settled, Winona took out her sketchbook, tracing the lines of her friends with a pencil that she intended fill in with colour later. She was so lost in her art that she didn't even notice the twins hadn't arrived until the train took off from Hogsmeade Station with a tiny jolt.

"I'm gonna go look for the twins," she told the girls, who looked up from the horoscope in the edition of Witch Weekly Katie had delivered every Sunday.

"I'm sure they'll be along soon," said Alicia with a flap of her hand. "They're probably just trying to get in some last-minute sales of their joke stock."

Winona pursed her lips. "Maybe. But even still, I'm going."

"Wait, Winnie," called Katie. "Don't you want to know what your horoscope says?"

"Not particularly."

Katie looked incredulous. "But you're a _Seer._"

Winona blinked. "Why should that matter?"

She huffed, impatient. "Would you just listen?" Katie jerked the magazine so it lay flat, holding it out and reading from it in a melodramatic voice. "_With hazy Neptune in your sign this week, clarity is essential to progress. The coming full moon across your communication axis could be an emotional one, and so if there's something you need to talk about with someone, now is the time to do it._"

Winona remained unimpressed. "So it's basically just saying I need to get glasses and have a heart-to-heart?" Katie rolled the magazine up into a tube and slapped Winona on the thigh. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Take this seriously."

"Fine, fine," Winona held up her hands in surrender. "I will. And on that note-"

She left the compartment, leaving the girls to titter and decipher their horoscopes in peace. Winona looked from left to right, ultimately deciding to go left, something in her gut pulling her in that direction.

She walked down the length of the long train for a good few minutes, peeking into each compartment she passed, but the twins weren't anywhere in sight. She was nearing the end of the train completely when she peeked inside another one and found Harry, Ron and Hermione sat within.

Deciding to take a brief pause, Winona knocked thrice on the door before pulling it open and slipping inside. "Wotcher," she greeted them, stepping past Ron and taking a seat on the bench next to Hermione, opposite Harry. "What's with the jar?" Hermione was holding out a small jar filled with a few twigs and leaves, and Ron was peering inside like it held all the answers to the universe. "Are you collecting insects now, Hermione? Sounds like something you'd do."

"It's not an insect," she said haughtily. "It's Rita Skeeter."

Winona stared at her, speechless. "Oh my God," she murmured, turning to look at Harry and Ron with wide eyes. "It finally happened. She finally cracked."

Hermione tutted impatiently, looking unimpressed with Ron when he snorted his amusement. "No, Winnie, it really _is_ her," she said, thrusting the jar into her hands. Winona took it, holding it up to the light. The beetle within was large and had wings of a shiny, metallic green.

"Please tell me there's an explanation that doesn't involve you Transfiguring this woman into a beetle and keeping her in a jar like a _pet_," Winona begged her. She could put up with a lot, but even that was too close to batshit crazy for her liking.

Hermione snatched the jar back, a sour look on her face as Harry snickered. "She's an _Animagus_," she said snidely. "Honestly, Winona."

"But if she was an Animagus, it'd be public knowledge, wouldn't it?"

"Not if she's unregistered," Hermione said triumphantly. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

Harry leaned forwards to get a better look, but Winona wasn't interested in getting any closer to the woman who had outed her two darkest secrets in the span of only a few short months.

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry exclaimed, remembering the fact suddenly.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt."

"Holy shit," Winona breathed. "Fred pulled a beetle out of _my_ hair one day when we were talking about Sirius."

She wanted to slap herself in the face. This was where being careless got you; outed to the entire wizarding world as the daughter of a mass murderer and stuck in a train compartment with a woman stuffed into a jar.

"She's been buzzing around for stories all year," said Hermione with a narrow-eyed look down at the beetle in the jar.

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree…" said Ron slowly.

"He was talking to her, in his hand," Hermione explained. "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."

"Er, and how long are you planning to keep her in there, exactly?" Winona wondered, watching as Hermione tapped the glass like some kind of sociopath. It was actually kind of impressive.

"Oh, I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione cheerfully. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

Hermione looked awfully pleased with herself as she gently slid the jar back into her schoolbag, zipping it shut securely.

"Very clever, Granger," came Draco Malfoy's voice, and Winona's hand immediately went for the wand skewered through her hair. She curled her fingers around the wood, feeling it warm in her hand as she pulled it from her high bun.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. They had almost _gleeful_ expressions on their ugly faces, and Winona silently resigned herself to punching out yet _another_ personin a single term. At this rate, she'd beat her own personal best.

"So," said Malfoy in a menacing drawl. Winona knew she wasn't going to like what followed. "You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." Harry didn't react, and Winona stayed where she was, clutching her wand, careful not to overreact. They had to give her a reason, and only then would she let them have it. "Trying not to think about it, are we?" Malfoy continued, voice like spun sugar, but more sickly than sweet. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Harry warned him, voice colder than Winona had ever heard.

But Malfoy never had been terribly intelligent. "You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mud-bloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well – second – Diggory was the f-"

Winona didn't hesitate to draw her wand and cast a nasty hex in their direction. It was like one of the twins' fireworks had gone off in the compartment. Bright colour flashed all around them and there was a loud bang, leaving them blinking to try and recover.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all laying unconscious in the doorway, the twins stood over them, wands brandished proudly. It became clear to Winona that Malfoy and his goons had just been hit by six different hexes. Hers alone was nasty, so she couldn't imagine what kind of havoc all of them combined would wreak.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred casually, stepping over the Slytherins laid limp in the doorway, pocketing his wand. He dropped gracelessly into the spot beside his girlfriend, throwing his arm over her shoulders and grinning widely.

"Interesting effect," observed George, kneeling down to look more closely at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry, raising his hand as if in class.

"Odd," George said curiously. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the trio of stupid Slytherins out into the hall, then left them there, shutting the door in their faces. Somebody else would deal with them – or they wouldn't. Either way, it wasn't their problem.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" Fred offered, pulling a pack of cards out from his back pocket.

Winona and Hermione both passed, Hermione wanting to finish the chapter of the book she was reading and Winona more interested in drawing the group while they were all together.

She'd finished the outline and was just digging in her bag for her watercolours when Harry broke the easy chatter with a serious question.

"You going to tell us, then?" he asked George. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh," said George darkly. "_That_."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, eyes focused on the game between them. It was easier than thinking about the way Bagman had screwed them over. Winona's heart clenched at the thought of all that money, lost, and she hooked her foot around Fred's ankle, dragging his leg towards her then winding hers around it, a subtle comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. "It wasn't anything important," he finished, hardly convincing. "Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," added George.

"Come on," pushed Ron. "After all that, you're not gonna tell us?"

"Doesn't matter," Fred insisted stubbornly.

In a traitorous move, Ron turned to Winona. "Will _you_ tell us?"

Winona rolled her eyes, turning back to her work. "Oh, just tell them, you two," she said, not really wanting to get involved. "As if it'll do any harm."

"You're meant to be on our side," said Fred in a mock-stern voice. Her only response was a vague flap of her hand. "All right, fine, if you _really_ want to know … it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" asked Harry, and Winona could hear the fear that gripped him in his voice. "Are you saying he was involved in-?"

"Nah," George assured him quickly. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

Ron looked impatient. "Well, what, then?"

Fred hesitated, glancing to Winona, who looked up to meet his eyes and nodded encouragingly. With a sigh he turned back to the others. "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"When you used Winnie to earn some quick gold without talking to her about it first?" Harry finished. Fred and George gave a matching wince at the blatant callout, and Harry managed a smirk. Winona lifted a hand to smother her laughter. "Yeah, I remember. Continue."

"Well," said Fred, struggling to regain his footing, "the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

Harry immediately turned sympathetic, but Ron didn't understand. "So?"

"So," echoed Fred shortly, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

Hermione gasped. "But – it must've been an accident, mustn't it?"

When George laughed it rang with well-deserved bitterness. "Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," added Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back."

"He didn't refuse!" Hermione gasped again.

A shadow passed over Fred's face. "Right in one," he said gloomily.

Ron looked white as a sheet, probably thinking of their mother's reaction, should she ever find out. Winona had to wince at the same thought. "But that was all your savings!" Ron said, horrified.

"Tell me about it," said George. "Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" asked Harry, eyes wide.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So _that's_ why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well – I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope. The goblins play just as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

George went back to dealing out the cards for their next round, and this time Fred opted out, leaning back against the seat and dropping his hand lightly on Winona's thigh. She was suddenly painstakingly aware of how short their time left together was, and she shut her sketchbook with a snap, stuffing it in her bag and turning to face him.

"Are you sure you won't just come back to the Burrow with us?" he asked quietly, the words meant for the two of them alone. A compartment full of friends and noise and company, and all of it melted away as she leaned towards Fred, a moon caught forevermore in his orbit. "Mum would be thrilled to have you. So would Ginny."

She smiled softly. "I've gotta go back to my foster place before I do anything else. If I don't, they might call the Muggle authorities, and that'll just turn into a complete shit show. No, I'd rather face it and cut ties properly – without all the mess."

"And then you'll come to the Burrow?"

Winona sighed. "I dunno, Fred."

She was hesitant – the target on her back was big and glaring, and the last thing Winona wanted was to put any of the Weasleys in danger. She'd tie a ribbon around her head for Voldemort himself before ever letting anything happen to any one of them.

Fred didn't seem to think of it from that angle, because he asked, "Still holding out hope Sirius will come back?"

"Kind of, yeah," she confessed. It wasn't her main motivation, but it was there all the same. She wanted so badly for him to pull a miracle from his sleeve and find the perfect place for them to hide away. Somewhere Harry could join them, and that maybe the Weasleys could even visit.

When she tried to imagine such a place, she could almost see somewhere in her mind. A thin but tall townhouse, all dark walls and even darker furniture. If she closed her eyes she could almost smell it – like dust and mothballs and something she could only describe as dark magic.

She was hoping it was a hint from the Powers-That-Be, some small morsel of hope for her to hold close and keep her warm. She couldn't know for sure, but so far it was doing an all right job.

"Think of all the apple pie you're missing out on," Fred whispered, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

It made Winona laugh. "Is that meant to be a euphemism?"

Fred wagged his eyebrows playfully. "You're just going to have to come stay and find out."

He swooped in to steal a kiss from her lips, and she was helpless but to grip at his hair and tug. They may have gotten just a tad out of control, because Winona felt something heavy hit Fred's shoulder and heard the sound of George booing them loudly.

She pulled back from Fred, glancing down at the book George had lobbed at them. Hermione picked it up and dusted it off, glaring at George in stern reprimand.

"Keep it in your pants, lovebirds," George jeered at them, ignoring Hermione's ire. "Honestly, you have _no_ idea what it's like to share a dorm with them," he added conversationally to Ron. "I had to get an extra cake of soap just for something to wash out my eyes with."

Winona rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen."

The rest of the journey passed in easy jest, Ron going on to win their miniature Exploding Snap tournament. George gifted him with a chocolate frog for his efforts.

By the time the train pulled into King's Cross, Winona realised she'd done such a good job of pretending not to be anxious about the coming separation that she hadn't at all prepared herself for the moment it would actually arrive.

Ron and Hermione stood to gather their things, then carefully stepped over the unmoving forms of Malfoy and his goons, making their way out onto the bustling platform. "Fred – George – wait a moment," said Harry suddenly, and Winona paused in the doorway to see Harry fumbling for something in his trunk.

Finally he withdrew his bag of a thousand Galleons – his winnings from the Tournament.

"Take it," he said, rather unceremoniously thrusting the sack into George's empty hands.

For a long moment, all the twins could do was stare. "What?" asked Fred, flabbergasted. Winona was similarly stunned.

"Take it," Harry repeated himself firmly. "I don't want it."

"You're mental," scoffed George, trying to shove it back into Harry's arms, but he wouldn't take it back, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

"No, I'm not," said Harry calmly. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

Fred sucked in a sharp breath. "He _is_ mental," he whispered.

"Listen, if you don't take it, I'm throwing it all down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long," said Harry, impassioned like Winona hadn't seen him in weeks.

"Harry, there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here," whispered George as if it wasn't already common knowledge, testing the weight of the small sack he held, wonderment on his face.

"Yeah," Harry grinned, and the sight of it warmed Winona's heart. "Think how many Canary Creams that is."

The twins could only stare at him, utterly speechless. It made Winona laugh – it wasn't often someone could leave the twins without words, and she almost wished she had a camera to capture the moment on film.

"Just don't tell your mum where you got it … although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…" Harry mused.

Fred looked from Harry to Winona and back again. "Harry," he began, but Harry silenced him by pulling out his wand and holding it out in gentle threat.

"Look, take it or I'll hex you," he bargained. "I know some good ones now. My cousin taught me well. Just do me a favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

He left the compartment before they could say another word, looking awfully satisfied with himself. The twins stared after him in shock, and Winona brought her hands up to cover her mouth, feeling strangely overcome with emotion.

With Harry gone, the twins turned back to one another. "A thousand Galleons," Fred breathed.

"That's _more_ than enough to buy a space in Diagon Alley – _and_ front all the production costs for the first six months!" said George excitedly. They looked so thrilled that Winona was surprised they didn't just start dancing right there on the spot.

They turned to Winona, speechless once more but with questions swimming in their eyes. "I had no idea," she answered their unspoken question. "But _Merlin_, do I love that kid."

"Yeah," said Fred, still dazed. "Us too."

It wasn't until they got beyond the barrier that they saw Mrs Weasley. She was squeezing Harry tightly, but promptly turned her attention to Winona as she appeared.

"Now, you know you can come home at any time, right dear?" she said in Winona's ear, and hearing Mrs Weasley call the Burrow her 'home' made it strangely difficult to breathe.

"I know," she whispered, hugging her back, soaking up the mother's love she only ever got from Mrs Weasley.

"And are you sure you're okay to be going off on your own?"

Winona smiled into her shoulder. "I'm sure, Mrs Weasley," she insisted. "Thanks."

Mrs Weasley pulled back and took Winona's face in her hands, patting her affectionately on the cheek before pulling away to pull Ginny into an enthusiastic hug. Winona turned to Harry, finding him stood beside his Uncle Vernon, who looked as though he was there at wand-point, scowling at everyone like he thought they might be conspiring against him.

"You'll be okay?" Winona asked Harry, hands braced on his shoulders. His only answer was an unconvincing nod, and Winona pulled him into a firm hug. "I'll see you soon, Boy-Wonder," she promised him.

She felt Harry grip her just a tad too tight, like he were afraid that once he let go he'd lose her forever. She squeezed him back, pulling away and smiling gently.

"Come on, boy," snapped his Uncle Vernon. "I have places to be."

Harry's shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world had settled onto them. "Harry – thanks," said George quickly, Fred nodding fervently at his side. Harry shot them a wink before waving to Winona one final time and reluctantly leaving with his uncle.

Winona turned to the twins, both of whom still looked rather like they'd been bonked over the head.

"Fred, George!" called Mrs Weasley, standing a few metres away with Ginny and Ron at her side. The twins turned to Winona with wary frowns.

"I'll be fine," she insisted, pulling George into a quick hug. He felt strong and solid beneath her, and she got the same sense from hugging him that she did Harry – like being held by a brother. "Be bad, cause trouble," she said in his ear.

George flicked her nose as she pulled away, and it made her smile. When she turned to Fred, George politely turned away, wandering over to his waiting family to give the couple time to say their goodbyes.

Fred was frowning. "Are you _sure_-?"

"Fred," she said, slapping a hand over his mouth and smiling at him in exasperation. "I'm going to be _fine._"

He said something, the words smothered by her hand, and she slid it up into his hair instead, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. She swallowed whatever he'd been trying to say, holding him tight against her, kissing him like she wasn't sure when she'd get another chance – because truthfully, she wasn't.

George wolf whistled loudly from where he was stood with the others, and Winona pulled back from Fred, grinning at his dazed expression. "I'll see you soon," she promised.

"You'll be safe?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course," she assured him, pecking his lips once more before pushing him stubbornly in the direction of his family. "Go!" she said, and with great reluctance, Fred left with his family, their trunks trailing after them, Ginny filling her mum in on everything that had happened throughout the term.

Alone in the middle of King's Cross, Winona stayed rooted to her spot in the midst of a sea of faceless strangers.

She'd told the others she needed to go back to foster house to pick up her things, but that wasn't necessarily true. Everything worth keeping was already stored away safely in her school trunk. But where was she supposed to go, if not to the foster house the government was expecting her to return to?

She stood in the middle of the Muggle platform, people walking around her like she were no more than a spectre. And in that moment she felt as invisible as one. What would the Ministry do if she were to just…leave? She could write to Sirius, go find him wherever he was. She might not have wanted to bring the wrath of Voldemort down on the Weasleys, but she was sure Sirius could handle himself.

Besides, the two of them had some serious father-daughter bonding to get started on.

She turned in a circle, looking for somewhere she could sit to write out a letter, but before she could get that far, a familiar figure caught her attention.

Without stopping to think, Winona slid her wand free from the knot atop her head, brandishing it out in front of her, its end aimed directly at Mad-Eye Moody's heart. Moody scowled at her from where he stood, mere feet away, making her palms slick with nervous sweat.

"Would you put that away?" he growled at her, voice so familiar that it sent a jolt of shock and terror through her. The last time Winona had seen him, he hadn't been himself at all, but rather a Death Eater attempting to kill Harry, kidnap her, and take her away as a gift for his master. Surely that justified her reaction.

But Barty Crouch Jr was gone – his soul sucked from his body in a fate worse than death – and this Moody was the real one. She was at least 98% sure.

He was glowering at her, unimpressed, and with a trembling hand, she slowly slid her wand back into its place in her hair. "Moody?" she asked hesitantly.

"In the flesh," he muttered like her very existence annoyed him. His magical eye wasn't whizzing about like usual, probably in an attempt to keep from gaining any unwanted attention, but that alone wasn't quite enough. All the Muggles streaming past them, racing to get to their trains on time, were gaping at the horrific mess that was Mad-Eye Moody. She couldn't blame them – he looked like someone had taken a lawnmower to his face. "Well, are you just going to stand there?" he snapped.

"Um," Winona said, brain short-circuiting.

Moody gave an impatient grunt. "Coming?" he growled, turning on his heel and beginning to limp his way back through the crowd. Winona picked up the end of her trunk and followed, helpless to do anything else.

"Er, where are we going, exactly?" she asked warily. She wanted to trust him, but the fact of the matter was that she didn't _know_ him. The man she'd spent a year in the company of had turned out to be a psychotic, murderous imposter. What did she know about the real Moody, other than the fact he was a complete coot and a close personal friend of Dumbledore's?

"You'll see," he barked, and Winona fell silent.

He led them out of King's Cross, but when Winona assumed he would hail a taxi, he instead took a sharp right and began to lead her around to the back alley around the side of the train station. Heart racing in her chest, Winona began to panic. Was he taking her back there to kill her? Would she have enough time to draw her wand and apparate away?

She hadn't apparated in the real world before – she'd passed her exam easily enough, but she wasn't exactly well practised – but it was looking like a good option right about now, even with the added risk of splinching herself.

But when they rounded the corner to the main part of the alleyway, Winona came to an abrupt stop when she saw who was waiting for them. Professor Lupin was stood beside a large metal bin, talking quietly to a young woman with spiky, bubblegum hair.

He looked up as Moody limped towards them, meeting Winona's eyes, a smile ready on his lips. "Winnie," he greeted her like they were old friends – and she supposed they really were.

"Professor Lupin," she said, surprised. He strode towards her, hand held out to shake, but Winona stunned him by slipping her arms around his thin waist and hugging him tightly. They didn't know each other very well, but he was one of the only remaining connections to her family left. He was her father's best friend, and he'd visited her would-be grave every year since she supposedly 'died'.

Surely all of that warranted a hug?

"Call me Remus, Winnie, please," Remus said faintly, surprised by her open affection, patting her woodenly on the back. "I'm not your professor anymore."

She pulled away and smiled up at him sheepishly. "Old habits die hard."

The woman with bubblegum hair appeared at her side, a wide smile on her pretty face. "Winnie, hi," she greeted Winona like they were old friends. She reached out to shake her hand, and Winona did so automatically. "I've heard so much about you. It's great to finally meet you."

"Um, thanks."

"True Seers are almost as rare as Metamorphmagi," she continued happily. "Maybe we should start a club!"

Professor Lupin – Remus, she chided herself – had a fond glint in his eyes that erased itself when he caught Winona looking. "Winnie, this is Nymphadora Tonks. She's…she's on our side," he said, a little bit stilted. It gave Winona a jolt to realise there were _sides_ now. That was the new world they lived in. _Us_ and _them._

"Just Tonks," the Metamorphmagus corrected him with a stern glare, nose wrinkling at the sound of her full name. "I refuse to answer to Nymphadora." She turned to Winona with a rueful smile. "Why couldn't I have been called something pretty, like Winona?"

Feeling flattered, Winona couldn't help but smile. Before she could say anything, Moody interrupted, appearing between them with an impatient scowl on his twisted lips. "Would you like to continue chattering out in the open like this, where anybody could apparate in and steal the Seer from our guard, or shall we continue onto headquarters now?"

Tonks rolled her eyes, but Remus looked chastised. "Right."

"Headquarters?" Winona echoed in confusion. "You mean like a lair?"

Tonks broke out into a wide grin. "Exactly like a lair."

"We'll be apparating there," said Moody as though neither woman had even spoken. "You'll be apparating alongside Lupin, being as you've never been there before."

But Winona wasn't about to just shut her eyes and let them take her wherever they pleased. "Wait – Dumbledore – shouldn't we-?"

"Dumbledore's already waiting there for you," said Remus patiently. "Along with your father."

A ping of surprise mingled with excitement in her gut. Sirius was there? Well, now the trip didn't seem so daunting after at all. "Okay," she said, relinquishing control.

"Tonks, you take her trunk," Moody growled at the pink-haired beauty. Tonks winked at Winona as she gripped the trunk in a steady hand, spun in a tight circle, and Disapparated with a quiet _pop._

Remus held an arm out to Winona in a playfully gallant move, and in that moment Winona thought she saw a hint of the clever troublemaker who had once upon a time made a magical map with three of his closest friends, just because he wanted to see if he could.

But there was one thing holding her back. "Where we're going," she asked, "is it safe?"

A sympathetic smile twisted at her ex-professor's mouth. "I don't know if anywhere's safe anymore, Winnie," he told her with breathtaking honesty, his old, hazel eyes sad. "But I think this is about as close as you're going to be able to get."

And she believed him down to her bones. Nodding once, she reached for his arm, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. As soon as she made contact there was a sharp tug at her navel and the breath was forced from her lungs as she felt like her whole body was being yanked through a tube the size of a drinking straw.

It lasted an eternity and also barely any time at all, but then she could breathe again. The sunlight was beaming down onto her, and in the distance she could hear a siren wailing.

Blinking against the brightness, Winona stared at her new surroundings. They were stood in a derelict neighbourhood, blackened buildings making up townhouses across the road from them. Despite its desperate need of a clean, Winona liked it. The street had character – even if that character was a stray cat shitting in a cardboard box on the corner.

Tonks was already there, Winona's trunk sitting by her feet, and she greeted them with a little wave as they appeared. A beat passed and then Moody arrived with a tiny pop of noise. For a long moment they just stood there, and Winona wondered if there was something she was missing.

Then Moody fished a torn piece of parchment from his pocket and shoved it unceremoniously into her hands. Bewildered, Winona took it from him.

"Read it. Memorise it," Moody ordered her briskly.

Unfolding the piece of parchment, she peered down at what was scrawled onto it, brow furrowed as she felt something drop in her stomach. Like something inside of her knew how important what she was about to read actually was, even if she didn't know it consciously.

Narrowing her eyes, she read.

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter we dive into the whole new world that is Order of the Phoenix – but let me tell you, we're going to be sticking around at Grimmauld Place for quite awhile yet. As Winnie said – there's still lots of bonding to be done.**

**Spotlight review goes to: _BooksEnPointe_ – thanks so much for reading and reviewing! It was so amazing to read that you and your friend both read the story, and I laughed when I read that you looked up the average book-length. If only I had this sort of dedication to my original works :') Glad you're liking it, and I hope you enjoyed this one!**


	50. Make yourself at home

"I don't understand," Winona said, only to yelp when Moody flicked his wand sharply in her direction. The parchment in her hands was instantly set alight, and she dropped the flaming note, watching as it floated slowly towards the ground, reduced to nothing but ash by the time it hit the pavement.

"This way," Moody grunted, the thump of his wooden leg loud against the concrete as he limped his way up towards the houses before them. Winona stared after him, her eyes going round as dinner plates as she watched another house appear to magically inflate right before her eyes.

Where there was no house, suddenly there was, and Moody didn't break his uneven stride as he thumped his way up to the door and pulled out his wand. He tapped it against the door, and as Winona approached with Lupin and Tonks at her side, she could hear the metallic sounds of locks being magically opened, then the clatter of a chain.

The door to the mysterious house opened with a low, ominous creak, and Winona peered through the darkness within, understandably suspicious.

"Well?" said Moody impatiently. "In you go."

Winona could barely get her feet moving, but she did as she was told, making her way slowly inside the creepy house. The inside was just as gloomy as the outside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, and there were ancient artefacts lining the walls that Winona knew had to be worth more than just a pretty penny.

Moody, Tonks and Remus followed her inside, and they heard the door shut and relock itself behind them.

"So, uh, what is the Order of the Phoenix, exactly?" Winona asked, head tilted back to stare up at the levels connected by a spiral staircase above her. The house was tall, almost seeming to stretch upwards forever. It reeked of mothballs and death.

"You don't already know?" asked Tonks playfully. "I thought you knew everything."

Winona chuckled, but the sound was a nervous one. "Where would the fun be in that?"

"Come on," said Remus, very obviously _not_ answering her original question. "Somebody wants to see you."

He lead the way through the gloomy house, taking her across the full length of the ground floor and then down a steep flight of stairs, until finally they reached what appeared to be a kitchen.

The sight of Sirius stood at the counter, eating peanut butter straight out of the jar, gave her a thrum of relief like nothing she'd ever felt before. He was here, he was okay, and they were together again.

"Winnie," he said as he spotted her, dropping the jar and his spoon to the counter with a clatter and crossing the space between them in two large steps, sweeping her up into an unexpected embrace. He clutched her so tightly that the air whooshed from her lungs, but she didn't care, hugging him back with a desperation that surprised even herself.

She'd gone a long many years without getting the chance to hug her father. It seemed the both of them were eager to make up for all that lost time. "Hi," she said, voice muffled by his jacket.

"It's so good to see you," Sirius told her fervently. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," she told him, thinking that now, it might have even been the truth. "You?"

"Better now you're here," he said, a charming smile on his face that might have made anyone else doubt his sincerity. But to her, it was just warm, reminding her that this was her dad. And she was safe with him.

She pulled away, looking up at him. He didn't look nearly as gaunt as he had the last time she'd seen him. Clearly he'd been eating more than whatever scraps he could find in the trash. "I have questions," she blurted, because by now those questions were itching at her mouth, demanding to be asked.

"And we will try our very best to answer them," came a rasping voice from the corner. Winona whipped around with a gasp to find Dumbledore stood in the corner like some kind of watchful gargoyle, his blue, star-covered robes glittering like the night sky.

She'd been so distracted by the sight of Sirius, she'd completely missed the headmaster in the room.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "Where are we? And what's the Order of the Phoenix?"

Sirius took a seat at the table, and Winona followed his lead, getting the feeling she should settle in for a long explanation. "This is my family's house," Sirius began, watching her closely. "With the rest of the Blacks gone, it's now mine – and yours."

Something about hearing that left her with a racing heart. Even after all this time, she was still coming to terms with having an actual _family._ The concept of having family heirlooms and things passed down through the generations, like houses, was still so foreign to her. She was so used to having nothing to her name; not even a dad.

Sirius was still staring at her, awaiting a reaction. "Um," she said uncomfortably, looking around the kitchen they were sat in, everything grimy and old. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a hundred years, and it wouldn't have surprised her to find doxies in the walls. She wouldn't even eat off the table if you paid her a thousand Galleons. "It's…nice," she finished lamely.

Sirius laughed, a loud bark of a sound, before grinning at her wolfishly. "You don't have to lie, Pup. I know it's awful," he told her, and she let out a breath of relief. "It's been empty going on thirteen years now. We only got here the other day – I offered it to Dumbledore as a headquarters for the Order."

Winona shifted in her seat. "What _is_ the Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix is a secret society I founded back during the first wizarding war," Dumbledore explained, still stood in her corner, hands folded together in front of him. "It's a collaboration of all the witches and wizards in Britain who are opposed to Lord Voldemort's rule and have some degree of power or platform to do something about it."

Winona stared at him a moment, considering. "So, basically," she finally said, "you're the good guys."

Sirius grinned. "We're the good guys."

And although Winona wanted to smile with him, she was plagued by concern. It was like for every answer she received, a dozen more questions took its place. "You're getting ready to fight, then?" she asked, looking between Sirius and Dumbledore seriously. "You're getting ready for the war?"

The levity in Sirius' eyes melted away, replaced by a haunted kind of expression that made her insides twist. She looked at Dumbledore instead, and the look in his eyes was sombre. "We are," he told her quietly. "And we'll need your help to do it."

She opened her mouth to speak, but then Dumbledore walked forwards, taking a seat at the table in front of her, and she got the feeling he had much more yet to say.

"I would like to bring you into the Order, Winona. But there would certain…stipulations," he said carefully. Winona knew instantly that whatever these 'stipulations' were, she wasn't going to like them.

She squared her shoulders and looked the Headmaster in the eye. "Okay. What are they?"

"There is really only one," he said, then paused as if giving her time to prepare for whatever he was about to say. "You mustn't discuss Order business with _anyone_ who isn't already a member of this organisation."

His eyes were darker than usual, telling her exactly how unbreakable this stipulation was. Winona looked to Sirius and found him scowling. It made her curious, and more than slightly wary.

"Will the twins be brought into the Order?" she asked. And maybe it was juvenile for _that_ to be her first question, but she couldn't help it. She didn't have secrets from the twins, and last time she tried to, it hadn't exactly ended well.

"That will be entirely up to Molly Weasley," Dumbledore said diplomatically.

Winona bristled. "But they're of age, just like me," she reminded him hotly. "If I don't need a parent's permission, why should they?"

Dumbledore smiled, a little distant, and looked meaningfully at Sirius. "You _do_ have a parent's permission."

She'd been so caught up, for a moment she'd forgotten who Sirius was to her. Looking over at her dad – it was still _super_ weird to think that, but she was trying to get better at it – he was smiling sheepishly.

"I won't try to control what you do. I can't just waltz in here and force you to do as I say, even if I am your dad," he said fairly. Again, the 'd' word gave her a bit of a thrill. "If you want to fight, you can fight. Because you're right, you're an adult now. And anyway, I was your age when I first joined the Order. Be awfully hypocritical of me to try to stop you, wouldn't it?"

Winona had to laugh. He made an excellent point.

"So," she continued once the mirth had faded into calm, "if I agree to join the Order, I'm not to tell anyone who _isn't_ in the Order what's going on?"

It seemed an easy enough trade. Apart from the twins, there weren't many people she could imagine needing to tell anything to anyway. Well, except-

"What about Harry?"

Dumbledore's eyes went hard, like he were shutting himself off from emotion – almost like he were afraid of what she might see in his face. "Harry won't be joining the Order," he told her flatly.

Winona bristled. "What?" She turned to Sirius, finding him scowling down at the worn wood of the table as if it had wronged him. "You won't let Harry join?"

Sirius blinked up at her in surprise. "Me?"

"Well, you're his Godfather. I mean, his legal guardian…right?"

Sirius cast a frustrated look at Dumbledore, who was staring back at him inscrutably. "It isn't me who doesn't want him joining, Pup."

Winona turned to Dumbledore with accusations in her eyes. "You're actually not going to let Harry fight?" she demanded. Dumbledore turned his enigmatic eyes back to her. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want him anywhere _near_ this kind of danger, but he's put You-Know-Who in the ground once before. And from what I've Seen, he's going to play a vital part in doing it all over again. It's just plain _stupid_ not to let him fight."

"It isn't about letting him fight, Winona," said Dumbledore, patient but stern. "Harry cannot be a part of the Order. Not now. He's too young, and there are…other reasons…that I feel it would be unwise to allow him to join."

Winona blanched. "Unwise?" she asked, aware her voice was shrill but doing nothing to change it. "That racist son of a bitch has put Harry through _hell_," she reminded him, in case maybe he'd forgotten. "What has he done to you personally that makes you think you're any more entitled to be the one to take him down?"

"Winnie," said Sirius, sounding reproachful, but when she turned to look at him she found his eyes warm with pride. She took that as her cue to continue.

"Harry deserves answers, and I'll be damned if he's not going to get them," she told Dumbledore with fire in her eyes.

Dumbledore's expression shuttered. "I can't allow you into the Order if you intend to share information with _anyone_ outside of our bounds. No matter who they are to you."

"This isn't because he's my cousin," she snapped. "It's because I'm a decent human being. He's going to go _crazy,_ having everything kept from him. It isn't _fair._"

But Dumbledore didn't appear to be listening, like her words were going in one ear and out the other. "Winona, I must _implore_ you. We need you, more than anybody else, in the Order," he beseeched her. "Your abilities as a Seer will be _invaluable._ Your involvement could be the difference between winning or losing this war."

And to Winona's immense displeasure, that gave her pause. Her eyes flickered to Sirius to find him staring at her. He looked like he were warring with himself – and she got the feeling he was torn between her righteous argument and Dumbledore's cool logic.

"Look at it this way, Pup," he finally said, turning back to her, seeming to have come to a decision. "I can't tell him anything either, but I'm still doing it. Because, like it or not, keeping information from him may be the only way we get through this thing."

Winona still wasn't convinced, guilt sitting low in her stomach for something she hadn't even done yet. Sirius seemed to sense her indecision.

"By knowing everything there is to know, you can help protect him better than you would otherwise," he argued, frustratingly rational. "You can keep him safe in a way I can't, being that you'll be at school with him."

She both kind of loved and hated that he knew her well enough already to know it was the exact type of argument that would work.

She turned back to Dumbledore. "I can't lie to Harry," she said slowly, honestly. "I mean – even if I promise to now, I can't trust myself that I won't break my word. I'm sorry."

Dumbledore stared at her another long moment, before pursing his lips from behind his thick white beard and saying, "I believe I may have a solution."

Winona leaned back in her chair, waving her hand impatiently.

Dumbledore hesitated only moment before asking, "Have you ever heard of the Unbreakable Vow?"

Winona shook her head, but judging by the thunder that erupted in Sirius' expression, it wasn't anything good. "Dumbledore," her dad barked. "No."

But Dumbledore's eyes didn't so much as stray from hers. "It's a binding magical contract between two willing parties," he explained as if Sirius hadn't spoken. "Breaking it would mean imminent, unavoidable death."

"No," said Sirius again. "I won't allow it."

Winona wasn't listening to him either. "Are you asking me to make you a promise that will _kill_ me if I break it?" she asked, just so she had all the facts.

"If you needed the incentive," Dumbledore shrugged like it were no big deal.

"Winona," Sirius pleaded.

Her stormy eyes cut across to him. "Weren't you just saying that you wouldn't try to control what I do?"

Sirius looked ready to pull his hair out in frustration. "Do you hear this, Moony?" he demanded, and Winona looked over her shoulder in surprise. She hadn't realised Lupin and Tonks were still with them – but they were, both stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching on silently.

Moody was gone, having slipped out without them noticing, but Winona was glad. She couldn't quite separate this Moody – the _real_ Moody – from the imposter that had kidnapped and tortured her. And she didn't really want to waste energy trying.

Winona expected Remus to agree with Sirius, but to her surprise he looked awkwardly uncomfortable, and she knew what would follow wasn't going to make her father very happy at all. "Dumbledore's right, Pads," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Winnie's abilities are beyond invaluable. Having her as one of us…" he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish.

Sirius shot Remus a glare and turned his attention back to his daughter. "Can't you just join the Order and agree not to say anything to Harry?" he pleaded.

But Winona knew it was impossible. Her loyalty to Harry was too strong, her sense of justice too ingrained. "The only thing that will keep me from telling Harry what I think he needs to know is if I have the threat of death keeping me quiet," she told him plainly. Sirius' face fell. "You're right," she added quietly. "I can only help Harry by knowing _everything_. If the price I have to pay for that is silence, then I guess it's one I'm going to pay."

But Sirius wasn't done fighting; a Gryffindor to the core. "You could give us your predictions without joining the Order," he suggested, clinging to stubborn hope. "You don't need to _know_ everything to _See_ everything. Right?"

Both Winona and Dumbledore were already shaking their heads. "The more I know, the more accurately I can translate my predictions," she told him. "I'm hardly any use at all if I don't have all the pieces of the puzzle."

Sirius slumped over in his seat, forehead braced on his palm like he were fighting a terrible migraine.

"What's the big deal?" she asked, confused. "This doesn't sound _that_ dangerous. So long as I keep my vow, there's no reason to worry."

"But what if you _can't_ keep the vow?" he asked, helpless but to worry. "You're stubborn, Winona. I'm not sure I can trust you not to look for a way around it."

Winona pursed her lips. "I might be stubborn, but 'on pain of death' are some pretty serious words," she told him. "Stubborn doesn't matter a damn if the alternative is dying."

Sirius stared at her a long minute, considering, then slowly nodded his head. "If this is what you need to do."

And to tell the truth, Winona wasn't 100% sure it was. But there was a ticking clock, and this was the only solution presenting itself. She needed to know more about Harry's situation to protect him, and more about the situation with You-Know-Who to protect everyone else. And if that meant making a deal of this kind with Dumbledore – well, like she said, it was just a price she was going to have to pay.

This was war; they all had to make sacrifices for the sake of the greater good.

"How do we do this?" she asked Dumbledore.

Watching her a moment longer, he finally stood to his feet and walked around to the side of the table. Taking his cue, she stood and followed him. When he held out a hand for her to take, she took it, as if shaking his hand. No magic had been used yet, but still she felt a steady thrum of fear in her veins.

"Remus," said Dumbledore mildly. "If you would be so kind as to stand witness?"

Winona wasn't sure why he hadn't asked Sirius to do it, but with a glance at her father, Remus accepted, making his way towards them, wand outstretched.

"Winona, I'm going to ask you to make some vows to me now. All you have to do is say clearly and with intent; _I will,_" Dumbledore paused, icy eyes like lasers as he peered at her over the edge of his half-moon spectacles. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Remus lowered his wand until its tip was resting at the place where Winona and Dumbledore's hands met, and she felt a swoop in her gut. Was she doing the right thing, or making a terrible mistake? She had a feeling that only time would tell.

"Will you, Winona Black, keep the things discussed in these Order of the Phoenix meetings confidential, talking about them with nobody but other members of the Order?"

"I will."

As she said it, a thin line of fire drifted from Remus' wand. It began to wrap around their hands in an intricate dance, and Winona could feel the heat of it against her skin, sharp and unforgettable.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, use your Sight to aid the Order in their quest to destroy the Dark Lord forever?"

"I will," she said, and another line of fire appeared, twisting over the other like vines.

"And, under no circumstances, will you tell Harry Potter that which I mean to keep hidden, for his own protection?"

The wording threw her off, and she suddenly felt a flash of fear. She didn't want to promise that – she really, really didn't. She tried to tug her hand out of Dumbledore's grip, but he held firm.

This had all been a mistake, and now she was going to die, and Harry was probably going to hate her-

"Winona," Dumbledore thundered.

Mouth dry, Winona could only swallow around the painful lump in her throat. Her hands began to tremble, but her eyes remained locked with Dumbledore's as if the magic of the vow was keeping them pinned together.

"I will," she whispered, and there was a final vine of twisting fire. Then, all at once, the fire seemed to melt into their hands. Winona hissed with pain as it burnt her skin, yanking her hand forcibly out of Dumbledore's. This time he let her go, and when she glared up at him it was with a seed of hate in her heart.

"Very good," he said, clapping his hands together like nothing at all had happened. "Now, if you would like to take a seat, I can tell you what we know so far."

He sounded pleasant, like they were discussing knitting patterns, and Winona scowled as she took a seat, this time in the chair beside Sirius – who somehow looked older than he had before, as if watching them make the vow had shaved weeks off his life.

Dumbledore didn't sit down. He remained standing, towering over those of them in seats. Winona thought he might have done that on purpose, and the thought made her sour to him even more.

There was a moment of quiet, like he were giving her time to prepare for whatever he was going to say, and wariness built in her gut like a warning. This wasn't just any old information; this was the most important information she was likely to hear for a very long time. This had the potential to turn the tide of the war itself.

She listened, utterly silent, as Dumbledore began to speak. He started first with a prophecy made by none other than Professor Trelawney herself.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...__"_

It probably shouldn't have surprised Winona that Harry had a prophecy made about him, but it did. She was reminded again with astounding clarity that Harry wasn't just her scrawny cousin with stupid glasses and a mouth too smart for his own good; he was an actual, proper _legend_.

Winona said nothing, staring at Dumbledore without a word as he went on to talk about a night thirteen and a half years ago, that fateful evening in Godric's Hollow. She listened as he told her about Lily – Winona's aunt – sacrificing herself to save Harry's life, and how the lingering power of that sacrifice kept Harry safe while he was under Lily's sister's roof.

She listened as he told her of his suspicions that, as a result of what happened that night – the failed Killing Curse and You-Know-Who's subsequent defeat – the Dark Lord and Harry now shared a mental connection, one Dumbledore himself didn't even understand the full extent of.

"And that is why Harry mustn't know anything, Winona," Dumbledore said urgently. "Because anything thing Harry knows, there's too much of a chance Voldemort will be able to see into his mind and know it, too."

It was terrifying, the thought that You-Know-Who had a direct line into Harry's head. Protectiveness surged within her, potent and bubbling, like a potion brewing underneath her skin.

"This is all just a theory, right?" Winona asked, hoping she didn't sound as pathetic to their ears as she did to her own. "Nothing's been proven?"

Dumbledore looked pitying, and dismay twisted her insides into knots. "How else did Harry see what he did in his dreams over the last year? How else could he speak Parseltongue?" he said smartly. Winona's shoulders slumped and she sank down in her seat, staring listlessly at the cracked tabletop.

As much as she wanted to disagree, the evidence was right there, burning bright and obvious in her mind. He was right; she could feel it in her gut. There was no denying it.

"So how do we break the connection?" she asked, staring at a knot in the grain of the wooden tabletop. Nobody answered her, and she looked up with fire in her eyes. "How do we break it?" she demanded again.

Sirius exchanged a long look with Remus, but Dumbledore just stared back at her, his icy gaze unwavering. "Once You-Know-Who is dead-" he began importantly.

"And how exactly is that going to happen?" she interrupted him sharply, hands balled into fists in her lap. "We don't know where he is, or what he's doing. We have no way to get to him; he's too protected."

Dumbledore sat back down in his chair, putting their heads at the same level. Winona knew he was trying to appear less threatening, but it only made her recoil internally, something stubborn within telling her to deny him whatever he asked. Because surely he was going to ask for something. She wasn't now a part of the Order of the Phoenix just for the laughs.

"This is where you come in, Winona," he said quietly, voice rumbling and steady, but to Winona it sounded insincere. Sirius bristled where he sat, stormy eyes flickering between Dumbledore and his daughter, indecision in their depths. "Up until now, you've been a passive participant in this war. This is the moment that changes. You've been given these visions for a reason, and I believe that reason is to keep us – the Order – one step ahead of Voldemort's at all times."

He was trying to sound encouraging, but to Winona it just felt like a fancy way of saying she was the Order's new personal pet.

"You're going to turn the tide of this war, Winona," he told her urgently. It wasn't comforting – it was just an onslaught of pressure and responsibility she hadn't expected when she'd made that vow with Dumbledore. She understood better, now, why Sirius hadn't wanted her to do it. He'd wanted her to have an out – and now that was impossible. She was in this for life – or, at least, for as long as Dumbledore lived.

Sirius seemed to read the sudden exhaustion in her body, and he turned to Dumbledore with hard eyes. "I think that's enough for today," he said firmly. "Winona needs to rest. You can talk to her more at the next meeting."

Dumbledore's eyes glittered, but not with levity. "Very well," he said slowly, beginning to stand.

"When will Harry have had enough of the protection at the Dursley's house?" Winona asked him quickly, standing to her feet with him. "Will a week or two be okay?"

To her great dismay, Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry will be staying with the Dursley's for the majority of the summer."

Winona's teeth ground together. "Okay," she said, sensing it was a waste of time to argue the point. She turned to Sirius. "Is there a station or something nearby that can take me to Surrey? Obviously I can't tell him anything, but I can't just let him rot there all summer without any company. He'll go mental."

There was only silence in the room, ringing and loud, like she'd said something wrong. Winona didn't understand, and wasn't sure she wanted to.

"What?" she asked warily, heart dropping like a stone.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but Sirius held up a hand, speaking before Dumbledore got a chance. "You're – er – you're not going to be able to visit Harry this summer, Winnie," he told her apologetically.

For a long moment, Winona said nothing. Then, with careful, foreboding calm, "Why not?"

"It isn't safe," said Sirius, the look in his eyes haunted. "You're not going to be able to leave Grimmauld Place until school starts back up in September."

Winona stared at him, half waiting for them all to burst out in hysterics over their lame attempt at a prank. But the longer that nobody laughed, the more dread she began to feel. "Well, _that's_ not happening," she finally scoffed.

"With the article released about you in the _Prophet_ last year, there's not a person in Wizarding Britain who doesn't know you're a Seer," said Dumbledore mildly. He was calm, and she hated him for it. He could read the discontent in her eyes. "The Dark Lord is returned, Winona," he said patiently. "And we now know he's searching for you _just_ as intently as he's searching for Harry. You're safe here. The location of Grimmauld Place is hidden under the _Fidelius Charm_."

And Winona knew what that was; Charms was her best subject. But that didn't mean she any more liked what she was hearing.

"I have to stay, too, Winnie," said Sirius suddenly. "Out there, I'm still the Ministry's most wanted criminal. I can't leave, either."

And maybe that made her feel just a little bit better, but it wasn't in her nature not to argue. "I'm not going to stay trapped in this house like some sort of…prisoner," she snapped, staring at Dumbledore, daring him to disagree.

"And what will you do if you go out there and get caught?" came an unexpected voice.

Tonks had been so quiet that Winona had once again almost completely forgotten she was there. Winona turned to find her leant against the wall, watching the conversation with intelligent eyes. "Who says I'll get caught?" Winona countered hotly.

"You're not even out of school yet, and you think you're a match for the Death Eaters?" Tonks arched a perfectly pink eyebrow.

Winona didn't have a good answer to that one, and Tonks knew it. Smirking, she continued.

"You want to keep Harry safe, right? He and those redheaded friends of yours? That's your main goal?" she asked intently. Winona pressed her lips into a hard line and stared at her. "The knowledge inside your head puts them all at risk."

"I'll never talk," Winona insisted.

"You won't have a choice," Tonks told her, firm but not unkind. "It doesn't matter how tightly you shut your lips, or how good you think you are at Occlumency. A few hours under the Crutiatus Curse and you'll tell You-Know-Who himself your cousin's home address."

Winona wanted to argue that she was different, that she was strong enough and powerful enough to resist anything the Dark Lord could throw at her. But she knew, deep in her gut, that she wasn't special like that. She was just like any other young witch – You-Know-Who would make her regret ever being born, and at the same time it would put Harry in unspeakable danger. That wasn't something Winona could risk; not even for her pride.

"Fine," she said, and both Sirius and Remus leaned back in their seats, as if they hadn't been expecting her to give up so easily. "I'll stay here."

"All summer?" asked Sirius, looking doubtful. Winona wasn't sure he knew her well enough to have any sort of opinion either way, but then again, maybe she was just exceptionally easy to read.

She nodded her head once. "If it's what needs to be done."

"Thank you, Winona," said Dumbledore properly. "Now, I must be off. I have business to attend to at the Ministry," he told them, making his way towards the door. He didn't elaborate on what sort of business it was, but Winona knew by now that the old warlock hoarded secrets like a dragon's treasure. "I'll see you again soon, when we call another meeting."

And with little more than a polite nod at the others in the room, Dumbledore left, robes sweeping out behind him before disappearing around the corner. They heard the front door creak open, then shut with a click, leaving them all in a ringing silence.

With him gone, the whole room seemed to relax, everyone releasing the tension that had gathered in their bodies. Winona wasn't immune, sighing loudly, sinking down deeper into her chair. She was so glad he was gone.

"Anyone for tea?" Remus asked, standing to his feet and making his way towards the kitchen that sat at the other end of the room.

"Please," said Tonks brightly, taking his vacated chair and spinning it around so she could sit on it backwards, facing Winona.

"You two?" Remus asked as he began to fill the old metal kettle with water from the tap.

Winona nodded once at Sirius, who answered for them both. "That'd be great, Moony," he said with a sigh, slumped in his seat much like she was. She saw a little of herself in him, in that moment, and it was enough to make her throat go tight.

"What's it like to be a Seer?" Tonks asked her suddenly. Winona turned to look at her, a little surprised but truthfully just glad for the distraction. "From what I've heard, it's not really a pleasant experience; having a vision."

Winona chatted with Tonks idly about the pros and cons of having The Sight, wasting time – which, apparently, she now had a lot of – as she waited for her tea. Sirius said nothing, watching and listening as they talked. The kettle whistled loudly on the stovetop and a few minutes later Remus was making his way back towards them, four teacups floating along behind him.

They set themselves down in front of each of them, and Winona immediately took a gulp of hers. It scalded her tongue.

"So, what's there to do here?" Winona wondered as they drank their tea. "I don't s'pose you have a TV?"

"A what?" Sirius frowned.

Remus rolled his eyes. "No – no TV," he said lightly. "But there's a radio."

The idea of sitting beside a radio all day everyday felt even more pathetic than a TV, but she didn't say that, just shrugging her shoulders and drinking more tea.

"You could work on your summer homework," Remus suggested.

Winona snorted into her teacup. "Yeah," she laughed. "_That'll_ happen."

Remus smiled, exchanging a look with Sirius she didn't understand. But the moment was over in a second, and Remus turned back to her expectantly. "Did you have anything at your foster house you wanted us to go get you?" he offered, probably since she'd come straight from the station.

But Winona shook her head. "Everything I need's in my school trunk."

"Speaking of," said Sirius. "Kreacher."

There was a sharp _pop,_ and a house elf appeared beside the table. Small and wrinkled, he had great, bat-like ears with white hair growing from them like grass, and bloodshot eyes that glared at her with all the hatred his little body could muster. Winona shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Kreacher, take Winona's things up to Regulus' old room," Sirius ordered the house elf lazily.

Kreacher's squashed face split with fury, but he didn't yell. He wasn't anything like Dobby, or the house elves down in the kitchen at Hogwarts. He wasn't friendly or kindly looking at all. Instead, he looked like – were he given the legal opportunity – he'd murder them all in cold blood.

"Now, Kreacher," Sirius barked.

With a great sneer at them all, Kreacher turned to pick up the very end of Winona's school trunk, beginning to slowly and reluctantly drag it out of the dining room. "Filthy blood traitors," the house elf was muttering venomously under his breath as he left. "Bastard daughter besmirching the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Turning in her grave, my mistress is…"

His muttering disappeared along with him, and they listened in half-awkward silence while her trunk clunked loudly against each step as it was dragged carelessly up the staircase.

"What in the hell crawled up his arse and died?" Winona finally asked.

"Kreacher was my family's house elf," Sirius explained, looking tired as he held his tea close to his heart. She noticed again that he looked better than he had when they'd last seen each other, but even with the extra weight he'd put on he was still thin. He clutched the teacup like he hoped its warmth would sink through his chest and heat him from the inside. "As a result, he's rather…prejudiced."

Tonks snorted loudly. "That's putting it mildly."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "He was left to me when my parents finally died," he continued, taking a deep gulp of tea as if wishing it were something stronger. Clearly talking about his late family wasn't an easy thing to do. She knew the feeling. "He's a bitter, grumpy old thing, but he's magically bound to do whatever we say."

"_We_?" Winona echoed, blinking in surprise. Surely she'd heard him wrong.

"You're my blood," Sirius shrugged. "Heir to the Black line. He belongs just as much to you as he does to me."

Winona cringed. "I don't want him."

Her dad laughed. "Nobody does."

"Can't we just set him free?" she wondered. "I'm happy to make my own bed if it means not putting up with his fascist mumblings."

But to her disappointment, Sirius shook his head.

"He knows too much," Remus explained. "Letting him go free now isn't an option."

Winona took a sip of her tea, buying time to think. "Okay," she finally said. "But the minute You-Know-Who's in the ground, he's getting the boot."

Sirius laughed again. "Deal."

They faded back into quiet, but Winona was hardly out of questions. She turned to Sirius, brow furrowed. "Who's Regulus?" she asked him, trying to think about whether she'd ever heard that name before. To her best recollection, she hadn't.

Apparently it wasn't a question that had an easy answer, because Sirius looked back down at the table and Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The only one who didn't look completely awkward was Tonks, who was now tapping an uneven beat against the lip of her teacup.

Nobody answered her for a long minute, and Winona wondered if she'd said something terribly wrong. But then Sirius stood to his feet, stretching his arms up above his head until his spine popped. "Come on," he said. "Why don't I take you up to your room?"

She got the feeling he wasn't avoiding her question, but rather wanted it to just be the two of them when he answered it. And anyway, she really did want to take a shower and change into something other than jeans, so settling into her new room sounded perfect.

"Sounds good," she told him, draining her tea. As she stood to her feet, however, something occurred to her. "Dumbledore mentioned the Weasleys earlier," she said to Remus and Tonks, fear igniting in her chest and gripping at her insides like the claws of a hungry dragon. "Are they safe where they are? Their house isn't under the Fidelius Charm, and they're considered blood traitors. Now that You-Know-Who's back, they'll be a target-"

"Winnie," said Remus, holding up a hand to stop her. Realising she'd begun to ramble, Winona pressed her lips together tightly. Remus was smiling gently, and it helped her relax. "We're already planning to have them moved here before the end of the week."

Her stomach swooped. "A week?" she asked, concern knitting at her brow. "Will they be safe that long?"

"They're under Dumbledore's protection," said Sirius from behind her, and she turned to see him smiling just like Remus. "They'll be fine until they can get here. They aren't as…unattached, as we are. It'll take time for them to get here."

It was strange to hear it put that way – but he was right. She and him _were_ unattached. They had no home to worry about, no family other than each other and Harry. They had few worldly possessions to their names, and hardly any friends to speak of. It wasn't exactly a good thing in general, but considering the unique circumstances of the war they were now a part of, it was convenient at the most.

"Can I write to him?" Winona asked, then winced at her own slip of the tongue. She wasn't exactly shy about her relationship with Fred – but this was her dad. The dynamic was a little different. "_Them_, I mean," she corrected herself, cheeks warm. "The Weasleys."

To her relief, neither Sirius nor Remus seemed to really register the slip, but Tonks was smirking knowingly. Winona made a face at her, and the Metamorphmagus responded by turning her nose into a pig's snout and oinking playfully.

"Sure. Let them know what a palace they have to look forwards to," Sirius said with the utmost sarcasm.

"But you can't mention anything important at all. Not where it is, whose it is, or what it is," added Remus sternly. Winona mimed locking her lips shut with a key.

"Dumbledore mentioned bringing Hermione here around the same time," Sirius continued. "It isn't safe for her out there, either."

Winona hadn't considered that, but it made sense. Hermione was known to be a close personal friend of Harry's, and being a Muggle-born who couldn't yet use magic outside of school, she was even more vulnerable than most.

"I s'pose I'll see you guys at the next meeting?" Winona asked them, hesitating in the doorway with Sirius.

"Just me," said Tonks, climbing to her feet and pulling on the jacket she'd shed when they'd entered. "Remus lives here with Sirius."

That was a surprise to Winona, although it probably shouldn't have been. "S'pose that means I'll be seeing a lot of you," she murmured.

Remus lifted his teacup in a playful toast of acknowledgement. Tonks put her hand on Remus' shoulder and rubbed, an affectionate farewell. Remus' cheeks went pink at the action and Sirius stifled a laugh beside Winona. With a self-satisfied grin, Tonks made her way towards them, pulling Winona into a quick hug.

"Lovely to meet you, Winnie," she said warmly. "Write me anytime."

"You too," Winona told her, watching as she bumped fists with a bemused Sirius before leaving the same way the others had. The front door shut with a creak, and Winona was suddenly very aware that she was alone with Sirius and Remus, and she would be for much of the near future. "So, my room?" she asked, turning to Sirius expectantly.

"Right this way," he said, gesturing to the stairs.

"So, you were saying about this Regulus bloke-?" Winona asked blithely as they made it onto the first landing, only for a sudden onslaught of screaming to drown out her voice.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! VERMIN, ALL OF YOU! WHO _DARE_ BESMIRCH THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK? FLITHY MUDBLOODS, THE LOT OF YOU-"

With a screech of shock, Winona spun around to find a portrait of an old lady roaring obscenities at them from a frame set into the wall, a pair of curtains having been covering the painting. Sirius lurched forwards attempted to drag the curtains back over the woman's furious face, but it wasn't as easy as it looked.

Winona dove into the fray, taking one end of the curtain and tugging until finally, together, they managed to close them on her ire. The screeching went muffled, then trailed off into silence.

"What the _actual fuck_ was that?" Winona demanded.

"That," said her dad bracingly, "was your grandmother."

Grimacing deep enough to leave lines, Winona stared at him, half hoping he'd laugh and tell her he was joking. He stared back without reaction, and she realised he was being serious.

"Great," she said, flat and full of sarcasm.

Her dad chuckled. "Yeah, I figured she'd get that sort of reaction."

"She's not…erm…alive, is she?" she asked, trying her best to be delicate. But she couldn't help it, she'd never been very good with subtlety.

To her relief, her dad smiled again, unworried. "No, thank Merlin," he said fervently. She supposed the reaction wasn't very surprising, considering what she'd just witnessed. "She's long since in the ground. This house and Kreacher are all I have left of her."

Winona eyed the décor as they made their way slowly up another flight of stairs. "What lovely gifts," she said dryly, and he laughed again. "What was her name?"

"Walburga Black."

Winona's feet stopped moving, and Sirius looked back at her curiously. "Was I named after her?" she demanded, horrified.

"Not at all," he hurried to assure her. He looked a little shy, then, before continuing on. "I actually hated the name Winona when I first heard it – told Jess it was too close to Walburga – but she loved it. She always had. So that's what we named you, and you know what she used to say?"

Winona said nothing, staring at him without even breathing. Her dad was smiling warmly, making his eyes look less like storm clouds and more like jars of shining silver ink.

"She used to say that you would take the name Winona and turn it into something even more beautiful," he told her distantly, physically there with her but mentally a million miles and more than several years away. Winona stared at him, and after a moment he came back to himself, eyes flickering to her and the smile never leaving his face. "And, you know what? As always, she was right."

It made Winona smile too, and she realised her arms had wrapped around her middle of their own accord, holding herself tight in a hug. She released herself, stuffing her hands into her pockets instead.

"So, Regulus?" she asked, keen to get off the subject of her mother before he told her anything that might send her into fits of tears. She'd told him once that she wasn't ready to hear about her yet, and it remained true. She'd tell him the day that changed, and he knew that, too.

"He was my brother," Sirius told her, pressing a gentle hand to her back to lead her up the next flight of stairs. "Your uncle."

"Was?"

"He died," he said, voice hard, but not aimed at her. Winona stayed silent, wondering if that was all he was going to say, but her silence seemed to spur him on, and he let out a puff of air and began to speak as though he'd been bottling it all up for decades. "He was a Death Eater. Changed his mind eventually, but by then he'd gotten in too deep. He was killed for trying to defect."

Something about that niggled at Winona's mind, like there was something about that she should have known, or was supposed to know soon, but then it flickered out of reach, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined the whole thing.

"Was he younger or older?" she asked quietly as they climbed yet another flight of stairs.

"Younger."

She nodded, processing that slowly. "I'm sorry," she told him. He turned to look at her in wide-eyed surprise. "Despite him being a Death Eater and all…it can't have been easy to lose him."

She heard Sirius swallow loudly before replying. "I lost so many people back then; it all became a bit of a blur, honestly. One death just melted into another."

It was such an honest reply, one that left her heart aching. Slowly, almost convinced she shouldn't do it at all, Winona reached for her dad's hand. It was much bigger than hers, nearly swallowing it completely. She gripped his hand before she could talk herself out of it, squeezing tightly.

"I can only imagine," she whispered.

Sirius looked down at her, surprised and maybe a little bit happy, and he squeezed her hand back. "I know," he said softly. "Thank you, Win."

She smiled back at him tentatively, and as he came to a stop in front of a door on the final landing before the ladder to the attic, she let go, sticking both hers hands back into the safety of her pockets.

"This is your room," he said bracingly, lifting a hand to the handle and curling his fingers around it. He hesitated before opening it, brow furrowed. "Dumbledore only confirmed you'd be coming yesterday, so I didn't really have time to set it up for you…"

He opened the door, revealing a small, bare room with nothing but a dresser, a bed, and a cupboard filling it, along with a large number of haphazardly packed boxes pushed against the back wall.

"I put all Regulus' things into boxes, I've just got to move them to the attic. I also checked over the whole room for any nasty traps or lingering curses – you'd never know with Regulus – but it's completely safe. I even had Moody do a sweep, just to be sure. And I figured you could decorate it how you like. We won't be here forever – just until all of this is over, then I thought I'd get something nicer, somewhere I can see the sky. You'll probably have moved out by then, seeing as you're an adult now, but I want to make sure you always have a room wherever I live, so you have somewhere to go, should things-"

"Sirius," she cut him off, and he turned to look at her with wide, vulnerable eyes. It was enough to make her smile. "You're rambling."

Sirius smiled sheepishly. She hadn't thought of him as sheepish before, or really as anything other than what she'd seen so far. It occurred to her, rather suddenly, that her dad was a person in his own right, with a life outside of her.

She wondered, for the first time, what he was like as a person. Was he funny? Was he sweet? What did he like to do in his free time? What was his favourite song? Because surely he had favourite things, just like everyone else. It was a strangely humbling realisation.

"I like it," she told him to cover her own surprise, walking deeper into the room and pressing a hand to the covers on the bed. They were a deep red in colour, like that of Gryffindor House, and they looked brand new. "Did you buy new bedding?" she wondered, looking back up at him, bemused.

Either she was imagining it, or his cheeks went just a tiny bit pink around the edges of his neatly-trimmed beard. "Er, I had Remus go," he confessed. "Seeing as neither of us can leave the house."

Although the reminder was a distasteful one, Winona still smiled. It was endearing in the best way, and she got the overwhelming urge to hug him. She refrained – it would probably just be awkward for the both of them. Besides, they'd hugged enough for one day.

"Er – Kreacher usually has dinner ready around six," he told her, and Winona got the feeling he was stalling for time with her. It made warmth spread through her nerves. He wanted to spend time getting to know her just as much as she wanted to know him.

"I'll head down by then," she told him. Sirius nodded, kicking his heel idly against the floorboards. "Would I be able to have a shower?" she asked hopefully.

He looked up in surprise. "Of course," he said quickly. "This is your house as much as it is mine. I know it isn't much to look at but…please, make yourself at home?" he ended it like a question, and she got the feeling he needed her to agree, if only for his own peace of mind.

Winona smiled. "I'll do my best," she promised him.

Her dad smiled back, tentative but genuine all the same. "Bathroom's just across the landing," he told her. "Clean towels are hanging up."

"Thanks," she said warmly.

Sirius nodded, turning to leave. However, he paused with his hand on the doorknob, seeming to rethink his exit. He turned back towards her, that tentative look back on his face. "I want you to know I'm just – I'm really happy you're here, Winona," he said it like it was difficult to get the words out, but she didn't mind. She didn't imagine he'd had very much practise talking about his feelings while locked away in Azkaban.

And so, despite the fact that being open and honest with her emotions was about as painless for her as walking over a bed of glowing coals, she replied sincerely. "Me too."

Sirius smiled once more before finally leaving, pulling the door shut with a creak, leaving her in lovely silence.

Winona collapsed onto her new bed, trying not to think about the last person who had slept in it – her late uncle, a man she hadn't known had existed until five minutes ago. She wondered if he'd been a good person, but then she remembered what Sirius had said, about him being a Death Eater. She couldn't help but think there was more to the story, but she'd only just arrived. They still had all summer to talk – and Winona was looking forwards to every single minute.

She showered in the bathroom, the water blissfully hot and the tiles mercifully clean. She didn't imagine it had looked so spotless the day before – clearly Sirius had cleaned it the moment he'd learned she was coming, and the thought made her grin.

Back in her new room with a towel wrapped around her body, Winona stared into the mess of her trunk. She didn't imagine Sirius or Remus particularly cared about what she wore to dinner, but no matter how much she longed to pull on track pants and a holey old teeshirt, she thought she should make at least a little effort.

Pulling on a pair of clean jeans and one of her many Weasley sweaters, Winona brushed out her hair, then stood in the middle of the room, staring listlessly at the wall. She still had plenty of time until dinner, and she was at a loss for what to do.

Eventually she decided on writing to the twins, and quickly ripped a blank piece of parchment out from her sketchbook, sitting down at the empty desk and dipping her quill into some blue ink to write.

_Fred and George,_

_Wanted to let you know that…_

She stopped writing, staring down at the letters unseeingly. What was she supposed to say? What was she _allowed_ to say? It occurred to her very suddenly that she had to be extremely careful of what she said and how she worded it. Not only were the things she knew sensitive to their side of the war efforts, but she now had the shackles of that damn Unbreakable Vow she'd made.

Who knew what the bounds of the Vow would consider 'too much'? If she accidentally gave something away that she wasn't supposed to, would she just keel over right here? The thought made unease churn in her gut.

She took a deep, calming breath, and wrote on.

_Wanted to let you know that I'm somewhere safe. I can't say much, except that I very much like where I am, and that I'm with two of the best cartographers Hogwarts has ever seen. I can't come to the Burrow anytime soon, but I've heard we'll be seeing each other in only a matter of weeks, if not days. I can't say more; you'll have to beg your parents for details._

_I miss you already. Be bad and cause trouble, and I'll see you both soon._

_All my love,_

_Winnie_

She folded up the note, sealing it and writing their names on the front. She was just about to head downstairs when she realised there was somebody else she had to write, as well.

She'd spent the majority of every summer since the one before fifth year with Harry – and now it was looking like it would be weeks before she'd get to see him, if even at all. It wasn't fair, and she felt that new hatred for Dumbledore bubbling in her blood. She pushed the feeling away, telling herself that it was necessary, maddening though it may have been.

Still, despite the fact she couldn't tell him a single useful piece of information, Winona could at least warn him that he'd have to find his own fun this summer.

Guilt sat, thick and curdling like expired milk, in her stomach as she pulled free another piece of parchment, dipped her quill in ink and began to write.

_Harry,_

_I wanted to give you a heads up that I won't be able to see you this summer – at least, not until the very end, when you come to me. There isn't much I can tell you in a letter, so you're going to have to wait a while for answers. I know it's going to be hard, and I know you're going to feel alone. But you're not alone, not now, not ever. _

_Write to me anytime. Write to me so often you get sick of it. We may not be able to talk about the important things, but we can at least come up with fun new ways for you to torture the Dursleys back; discuss the newest headlines in The Prophet; talk about our summer homework._

_Okay, that last one's a bit of a stretch, but you see my point._

_I'm sorry I can't be there to talk to you in person. Just remember that it'll all make sense eventually, and know that I would never do anything that wasn't in your best interest._

_You're not alone, cuz. _

_Love ya,_

_Winnie_

She finished signing her name with a sigh, heart uncomfortably heavy in her chest. Winona looked up from the parchment, blinking at the blank expanse of wall in front of her. It was strange; for a witch, she sure felt powerless right about now.

Folding her cousin's letter and sealing it, she scrawled his name before standing to her feet and stretching her spine until it popped. Then she gathered the two letters in her hand, slipped her shoes back on, and slowly made her way back down the five flights of stairs to the basement where the kitchen and dining room were located.

Sirius was sat at the table opposite Remus, the two involved in some sort of card game. They looked up as Winona walked in, both of them smiling at the sight of her.

"Settled in all right?" Sirius asked as he tossed a card down onto the pile on the table. Remus' moustache twitched, but otherwise he didn't react.

Winona nodded. "The shower's nicer than I thought it'd be."

There was the clattering of metal from the kitchen, along with low mutterings, and she turned to find Kreacher stood at the stove, cooking what looked like shepherd's pie for dinner. Winona took a hesitant steps forwards. "Need any help with that, Kreacher?" she offered.

"Not from blood traitor scum like you," sneered the bitter House-elf. Winona's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

"_Kreacher_!" barked Sirius. "Don't you dare call her that. Winona is your mistress, and you _will_ speak to her with the _utmost_ respect."

Kreacher's thin lips pulled back in a pained sneer as the order sank into him. Winona knew the basics of House-elf magic, and she knew one bound in the service of a family couldn't disobey any direct order given by their master. But they were still capable of free thought. She was glad, suddenly, that she wasn't a Legilimens. The last thing she wanted was to know what was going on inside that spiteful little thing's head.

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher resentfully. "Of course, Master."

He went back to making dinner, and Winona turned back to the two men at the table, a wary look on her face. "How do we know he's not going to spit in the food?"

Sirius laughed, the sound unexpected by them all, judging by the surprise on their faces. "I already made sure he couldn't," he told her with a shake of his head. "Sorry about him, by the way. I'd get rid of him, but honestly, he comes in handy."

Winona casually batted away his apology. "You don't happen to have an owl I can use, do you?" she asked, holding up the two letters in her hand.

"Sure," said Remus, putting down his cards and climbing to his feet. "I'll go get Gypsy for you."

Winona took a seat in the chair at the head of the table, watching as Remus left the room. "Gypsy?" she asked her dad, who was tapping the edges of his cards impatiently against the table.

"Remus' owl," he shrugged. "Well, she's really more the Order's owl, but Remus is mostly the one who takes care of her." He put his cards facedown on the table and reached for a small glass sitting to the side. It was full of a clear liquid, but Winona would bet her set of expensive watercolours that it wasn't water. "Who're you writing?"

"Harry and the twins," she told him. Concern flashed on his face, and she read him like a book. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them anything. Just letting them know I'm safe. My plans for the summer were a little…up in the air…before Remus and the others came to fetch me. They'd panic if they didn't hear from me – especially Fred."

Sirius took a deeper sip of the liquor in his tumbler, and it made her smirk. Remus reappeared, a decent-sized barn owl perched on his arm. "Winnie, meet Gypsy," he said, and the beautiful bird dove gracefully off his arm and landed smoothly on the table, hooting once.

Winona took a minute to coo to the owl, petting her caramel-coloured feathers, then she looked down at the two letters. While she was most eager to hear back from Harry, she knew Fred would be a wreck if she didn't let him know she was okay, so she tucked Harry's letter into her pocket.

"Take this to Fred and George for me?" she asked Gypsy softly, stroking her plume once more. She hooted again, leg outstretched. Winona tied the twins' letter to her small, clawed foot, then once Remus had produced a small handful of oats from his pocket, she took off, soaring out the window and disappearing up into the darkening sky.

Sirius and Remus went back to playing cards, and as Winona fetched a cup of tea, she was filled with an unexpected sense of peace.

Sitting at the table, listening to Remus and Sirius bicker over the rules of a game they hadn't played in over a decade, Winona felt for maybe the first time in her whole life like she was _home._

* * *

**A/N: To address something that's come up once or twice in reviews, I wanted to talk about Winnie's opinion of Dumbledore. She respects him a lot, and I'd say she definitely trusts him…to a certain extent. Winona is very intuitive, and she notices things, particularly where power is involved. She sees Dumbledore manipulating the strings around him, and she doesn't like it, that's where her animosity comes from. She doesn't hate him in a literal sense, but more in the rebellious way a teenager hates their guardian. **

**Above all else, she values her friends, and her main concern is keeping Harry safe – both physically and emotionally. Anyone who poses a threat to him; well, she fights against it.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and this week's spotlight review goes to: _BlondeHufflepuff –_ your review was so amazing to read. It came after a tough morning, so thanks for brightening my day! I'm glad I kept you guessing with Winona's heritage, I know the blonde hair threw a lot of people off. So happy to hear you're enjoying the story, and I hope I get more feedback from you soon!**


	51. We can't win this war without her

The next few days passed without any specific routine in place, but Winona found she liked it. She spent a lot of time baking, Remus fetching ingredients from the shops – seeing as neither she nor Sirius could leave Grimmauld Place – and her holed up in the kitchen making cakes and pastries to her heart's content.

Sirius would sit at the table, reading that day's issue of the _Daily Prophet_ or sampling her creations, making light talk while she worked. Remus would pop in and out – as an active part of the Order, he had places to be and missions to complete, so he wasn't so much a steady presence as Sirius was.

Her dad kept things simple. He didn't try to engage her in any deep and meaningful conversations about their pasts or the family that had been stolen from them so long ago. Instead, he asked her about school, and her friends, and they chatted about the teachers they'd shared and the classes they'd both loved and hated back at Hogwarts.

Eventually they got talking about her art, and one afternoon Winona lamented how she barely got any opportunity to use oil paints on proper canvas. Sirius was quiet and she thought nothing of it, then she woke up the next day to an obscenely large pile of fresh art supplies down in the drawing room.

She turned to gape at him. "Tell me you didn't spend that much money," she begged him. The supplies before her – a sturdy looking easel, a large box full of all manner of paints and brushes, and at least two dozen canvases of varying sizes leant against the wall – had to have easily put him back dozens of Galleons.

Sirius batted her concerns away. "I'm in control of the Black family fortune, Pup," he reminded her. "We're old money. This is nothing. I could buy you an entire art studio, if you wanted. Besides, it's your money too, y'know?"

That made her go quiet, and Sirius watched her as she stared wordlessly at the pile of supplies, the likes of which she'd gone to sleep her whole life dreaming about.

"Win?" he finally asked, sounding unsure.

"I grew up on nothing but a small allowance from the Ministry, and what little I could wring out of my foster parents," she confessed, still staring. They weren't just supplies to her; they were a symbol of her new life. "It's only just occurred to me that I have _money _now."

Sirius smiled. "Believe me, it gets old eventually."

Winona didn't think that was possible, but she didn't argue the point.

"Come on," he said, gesturing to her heaping pile of supplies. "Let's levitate it all up to your room, and you can get started."

She hesitated. "But I was going to make you some lemon squares today."

"How about we give the poor oven a rest?" he told her lightly. "Besides, if I eat any more of your sweets, I won't be able to fit through the doorway." Winona wasn't convinced, and Sirius' smile widened. "I can see how you're eyeing those canvases. I want to see what you can do with them."

And Winona's resolve broke. "Okay," she said, finally breaking her stare with the supplies to look up at him with a tiny smile. "But I want to paint down here."

He looked surprised. "You do?"

Winona shrugged. "I think it can get a little lonely up there, sometimes."

"Okay," he agreed, seeming pleased with the arrangement. "Down here it is."

They set up the easel and Winona balanced one of the moderately sized canvases on top of it, then sat down to sort through the different paints and brushes and other miscellaneous art supplies he'd gotten for her. It looked like he'd bought Scribbulus' entire art catalogue, and Winona pressed her lips together to try and stem the bubbly feeling in her chest. It was such a sweet gesture, but she got the feeling he was trying to make up for over a decade of missed birthdays and Christmases in one go. She wished she knew how to tell him he didn't need to; that just having him back in her life was present enough.

As she sorted through the basket of supplies – admittedly a little lost in the euphoria of having so many colours and tools at her disposal – Sirius disappeared into the other room. When he returned, it was with a decently sized crate full of what appeared to be old records.

"Do you like to listen to music as you paint?" he asked as he set the crate down on the ornate coffee table.

"I dunno. I've never tried."

"Wanna give it a go?"

Winona nodded, distracted by her new paints as he began to finger his way through the records. They worked in easy quiet for a few minutes, then Sirius chose a record and made his way over to a modest record player in the far corner that she hadn't noticed. For a moment there was the comforting crackle of static, and then the opening notes of a familiar song filled the room.

Winona sat up straight with a gasp. "No way," she said, dropping the brand new paint palette she'd been looking at, turning to stare at him in delight. "_Sticky Fingers_?"

Now it was Sirius' turn to be surprised. "You know _The_ _Rolling Stones_?"

"Are you kidding?" she demanded excitedly. "They're my favourite, and this is the best album ever."

Sirius looked rather like someone had thumped him over the head. "This is my favourite album," he said slowly, as if it were a fact that didn't make sense. He hesitated, almost as if unsure he should continue, but whatever he saw in her face seemed to convince him. "I used to play this for you, actually, when you were a baby," he confessed, and Winona's heart stuttered. "When you couldn't sleep, I'd put it on and you'd be out before the end of _Wild Horses._"

Winona couldn't help but smile. "Not exactly the most child-friendly album."

Sirius didn't look one bit ashamed. "Jess – your mum," he added quickly, as if she needed reminding, and her heart gave another stutter, "she told me that all the time. But it worked every single time, so she couldn't really argue the point."

He had a wistful smile on his face, the kind that hurt to see. She wished she could remember more about Jessica, wished she knew more than the cold facts. She wanted to remember how she smelt, and the way she laughed, and what songs she _did_ think were appropriate for a toddler to listen to at bedtime.

But Jessica was gone, and the only remaining person who could tell her those things was Sirius. She realised with a start that she was _ready. _Ready to know it all.

For so long she hadn't been. She'd been afraid that learning how she took her tea and whether she was who she'd gotten her dimples from and what her opinions on art as a career choice would be would only make it hurt more. But now, safe in Grimmauld Place with Sirius – in her _home_, with her _dad_ – she realised there wasn't anything that could hurt her. And maybe it was time to stop being so afraid.

"What was she like?" Winona asked, turning to the blank canvas in front of her so she didn't have to see his face. He said nothing, stunned into silence by the question he'd probably begun doubting would ever come. "You don't have to tell me, if it's too hard to talk about her," she told him quickly, eyes focused on the canvas.

"No, that's not it," Sirius told her, watching as she began to drag the tip of her pencil across the canvas, sketching out a basic idea to build from. "I just wasn't expecting you ask any time soon."

Winona stayed quiet, tracing the wings of a brilliant phoenix surrounded by rings of flickering fire. Sirius took another moment, gathering his thoughts before he spoke.

"She was…full of life," he began softly, the sound of the Rolling Stones record slowly fading into the background. "I used to joke she had music in her bones. She was always singing; sometimes making up songs when she was bored. She played piano – her parents had her take lessons as a kid. She'd play and sing, especially late at night, and I got so used to the sound of her voice…"

She could hear the wistfulness in the words, clinging to his voice like a song of its own.

"It doesn't surprise me that you're creative, like she was," he continued. "She always said she wished she could draw… She'd be so proud of you."

He said that last bit thoughtlessly, like it were just a simple fact of life, but it made her throat go tight and her eyes begin to sting. Winona kept her focus on the canvas in front of her, finishing off her rough sketch with the pencil and moving onto the oil paints. She squeezed an array of warm colours onto the palette, dipped her brush in some red, then held her hand frozen over the top of the canvas.

Sirius was still talking from behind her. "She hated Mondays and loved pasta more than any other food – Moony used to call her Garfield. It was a joke none of us understood until he explained it. After that, it sort of stuck. She always had fresh flowers in the house; she said no home was complete without them."

Sirius' voice faded away, and Winona knew he was lost in his memories, both comforting and painful. Her hand was still hovering over the canvas, some small part of her afraid to mar its pristine surface with her bright paint. But nothing stays perfect forever, and she finally touched her paintbrush to the canvas, painting a streak of fiery red across the expanse of empty white.

"Were she and James close?" Winona asked, a question she'd wondered for awhile now.

"They liked to pretend they weren't," Sirius told her with amusement in his voice. "And they fought like any siblings do; James said she was too bossy, and she said he was too crass. But at the end of the day they loved each other, and she was always there for him…looking out for him, even when he didn't really want her to." He paused, words seeming to get caught in his throat. "You actually remind me of them," he admitted quietly. "You and Harry. The way you are together…sometimes it's a little hard to watch, actually."

Winona said nothing, something about the confession breaking her heart. She stared at her work, but her mind was elsewhere.

"And, y'know, she was maid of honour at the wedding," Sirius continued, forcing his tone to stay light.

That was news to Winona, and she glanced away from the canvas to look at him. "She was friends with Lily, too?"

"She was a year ahead of the rest of us, but she took a shining to Lily just as James did, albeit in a different way. She was a Pure-blood, and Lily was a bright-eyed Muggle-born, so she took her under her wing. They were more like sisters, really."

Winona saw suddenly, in her mind's eye, the four of them with perfect clarity. It wasn't so much a Seer's glance as it was a girl imagining where she'd come from, where her story had begun. James was best friends with Sirius, and Lily was best friends with Jessica, and somehow, amongst that, they all fell in love. That is, if they even _had _been in love.

"Were you in love with her?" Winona wondered before she knew what she was doing. "Jessica, I mean."

The words couldn't be taken back, and they hung in the air between them like a tangible thing. She could tell Sirius was surprised by the question, and it made her want to smile as she kept her attention on her painting. It took him a moment to answer, but not because he wasn't sure. Rather because the answer was a painful one.

"Very much so," he said quietly, the kind of reverence in his voice that Winona only held for the great painters of the Renaissance era. Winona wondered if anyone would ever sound like that when they talked about _her;_ but something in her doubted it. She was no Mona Lisa.

"You weren't married," she said, and it wasn't a question. She knew they hadn't been married, and some part of her had always wondered why that was.

This time Sirius' silence was sheepish. "I wasn't really the marrying type," he admitted. "I know she wanted to. She was always giving me hints – and you should know, Jess was about as subtle as a freight train – but I wasn't ready. And she knew that; I don't think she minded, really."

"She loved you?" Winona asked, eyes kept firmly to her canvas.

"I'd like to believe she did," he said softly, voice thick with yearning.

She got the feeling it was growing difficult to talk about, so she shifted the focus elsewhere. "And so you, Jessica, Lily and James were all sort of one big foursome?" she wondered lightly. "Did you ever go out on double dates?"

To her surprise, Sirius barked a laugh. "Sometimes, when the girls could wrangle us together."

"And I was left forever the fifth wheel," came a new voice, and both of them turned to see Remus step through the doorway. They'd been so involved in their conversation, they hadn't even heard the front door open. "It was all right, though. I didn't mind. It was just entertaining to watch you and James fall over yourselves around them." He glanced at Winona with an impish look in his warm brown eyes. "Your dad would like you to believe he was always smooth, but the truth is, Jess made him trip over himself like you wouldn't believe."

It was enough to make Winona smile, and her grin widened at the glare Sirius shot his best friend. "Well, she loved David Bowie and knew every nasty hex in the book," he said defensively. "How was I supposed to resist? She was basically the perfect woman."

The three of them fell silent, Sirius' words ringing in the space between them. _Was_, he'd said. It was a sobering reminder that that woman – the one who loved Bowie and played piano and thought her little brother was a perpetual idiot – she was gone. And she wasn't coming back.

"I got us pizza for lunch," said Remus after a moment, and Winona was glad for the distraction. "Either of you hungry?"

"So hungry I could eat a Thestral," Sirius told him, but the words didn't have the same carefree ring to them. "Coming, Pup?"

"I'll be in soon," she said, returning her focus to her work. "I just wanna finish this outline."

The two men left the room, Sirius turning up the volume of the retro-style turntable as he passed it. Winona certainly had a lot to think about, but she didn't think about it specifically. Rather she let her mind drift as she painted, losing herself in a buzz of indistinct thought and the croon of Mick Jagger's familiar voice.

She painted until the end of the _Sticky Fingers' _record, then took a short break to wander into the kitchen. Sirius and Remus were engaged in a scathing conversation about someone named Mundungus Fletcher, and Winona waved them away when they tried to change the subject to something she could be involved in.

"S'fine," she said as she piled two slices of pizza onto a plate, already making her way back up to the aptly-named drawing room. "Busy."

The pair of them stared after her as she shuffled out, but her mind was already back on her work. She changed the record as if on auto-pilot, keeping the Rolling Stones theme going and putting on _Let It Bleed_. The opening notes of _Gimme Shelter_ cut across the warm crackle of record static, and she began to hum along as she chewed absently on her pizza, getting back to work.

The day passed in a pleasant haze of cheesy pizza, colourful paint and great music, but Winona was so unaware of time passing that it was only when the music cut off and Sirius told her she should get to bed that she realised the whole day had passed her by.

"What time is it?" she asked, squinting across the room at her father. It had been hours since she'd looked at something other than the bright reds and yellows of her painting.

"After ten," he told her, amusement on his face. "You've been at this since before lunch."

A little bit sheepish, Winona reluctantly put down her palette and paintbrush. "Sorry. I can get sort of…consumed, sometimes."

"Don't apologise," Sirius said firmly. "I think the fact you're so passionate about painting that you can do it for over twelve hours without stopping is kind of, well, _badass._"

It was enough to make her laugh. "Thanks?"

Sirius clapped her affectionately on the shoulder, but instead of heading up to bed, Winona went down the stairs to the kitchen, setting about making herself a cup of tea. She wasn't expecting Sirius to follow, but he did, taking a seat at the table and watching her work.

"I think I need some tea if I'm going to be able to get to sleep," she told him to fill the quiet, putting the kettle onto the stovetop to boil. "You want some?"

"Sure," he said, and she fetched a pair of sturdy mugs from the cupboard.

"I was thinking…" she began, slowly spooning sugar into their mugs. Sirius was silent, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. "After what we spoke about this morning…well, I had another question."

Sirius stared at her, surprisingly patient. "Shoot," he said when she paused.

"It's not going to be an easy one," she warned him.

His curious expression softened. "You can ask me anything, Winnie. _Anything._"

The kettle began to whistle, and although she could have done it by magic, Winona wanted to have something to do with her hands. She picked it up by the handle, carefully pouring the hot water into each mug. She waited until they were both full and she'd taken a seat across from her father, and even then pressing on was difficult.

"What happened that night?" she finally asked, no sense beating around the bush. Sirius' expression was carefully schooled, giving nothing away. He didn't immediately answer, and she felt compelled to elaborate. "The night my mother died – all I know is what little I've been able to piece together from Harry. It was the same day James and Lily died, wasn't it? Halloween, 1981?"

By now Sirius was staring down into his tea, the shine behind eyes haunted in a way she'd only ever seen once before – that fateful night down in the courtyard at Hogwarts, when she'd been reunited with him again after all those years apart.

She wanted to tell him it was okay if he couldn't talk about it – but something stopped her. This was her own history they were talking about, and she had more of a right to know how it happened than anybody. There was a piece of her that had always been missing, and for the longest time she hadn't known what it was.

But this was it, here. She needed to know what happened that fateful night, needed to know who to blame, and whether she'd been there for an event she couldn't remember but had changed the course of her entire life forever.

"There's not really much to tell," Sirius finally said, eyes distant and glassy as they stared into his untouched tea. Winona doubted that were true, but said nothing as he continued on. "Pettigrew betrayed us all. You and Jess weren't under the protection of a Fidelius Charm – we didn't think anyone would go after you. We didn't think it was…necessary, I s'pose. We were so foolish."

Sirius ran a hand down the length of his face, and Winona stared at him, heart aching in her chest. Not for herself, but for him, the man who had seemingly lost both his partner and his daughter in the same day.

"I was on a mission for the Order," he continued after clearing his throat. Winona took a deep drink of her tea, its heat warming her from the inside out. "I'd been away for days. I don't know the specifics of what happened, only that Death Eaters appeared at the house. The rest of the Order was alerted, got there in time to kill the Death Eaters before they could find where you'd hidden.

"I don't know anything more about the raid. Nobody could get ahold of me in time to let me know what had–what had happened. From my point of view, I got back from the mission late that night with the knowledge that Pettigrew was a spy. I went straight to James', since, because of the Prophecy, I assumed they would be the target. I found their bodies and tried to take Harry, but Hagrid wouldn't let me – er, I think you know this bit."

Winona nodded her head slowly, and Sirius finally lifted his tea to his mouth, taking a slurping sip. She pretended not to notice the way his hand trembled as he did.

"Well, I didn't find out about you and Jess until after I was…apprehended…by the Ministry," he continued quietly, that haunted look still in his eyes as he stared at her, like he were looking at a ghost. "Reports said you'd been killed, and Crouch seemed to take pleasure in…_taunting_ me with that knowledge."

Winona felt a surge of hatred for Barty Crouch Sr., but it was pointless. He was already dead and gone, murdered by his own son. Besides, she couldn't deny that the evidence had been perfectly stacked against Sirius. From the Ministry's point of view, she supposed it were something of an open and shut case.

Sirius let the quiet sit awhile, tapping his fingertips against the ceramic of his mug. "Sorry I don't know more," he finally murmured. "If you want to know the specifics, you'll have to ask Remus. He was one of the Order members called to the house. I've never asked for details, myself. Too painful."

Winona said nothing, staring at him, taking in his pallid, sunken appearance. He looked so old, all of a sudden. Older than she knew he actually was.

"Do you ever wish you'd known?" he asked so suddenly that she started, blinking at him in surprise.

"Known what?"

He shrugged like the answer didn't matter, but once he said it, Winona knew it did. "That you were my daughter."

"Yes," she told him, and by the way he looked up in surprise, she knew it hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting. "Of _course_ I wish I'd known."

The look in her dad's eyes was startlingly vulnerable. "Even if the world did think me a murderer?"

She attempted a smile that fell flat. "I grew up thinking I was entirely alone. To know I had a father out there – deranged though he may have been," she slipped in teasingly, and Sirius managed a rueful smile, "and Harry as a cousin – it would have made all the difference in the world."

Sirius leaned forwards. "What was it like?" At her confusion, he elaborated. "Your childhood. You said – that day in the cave…that some of your…foster parents – they hurt you?"

Winona immediately retreated into herself, cupping her hands tightly around her mug even though the ceramic burned her skin, feeling suddenly like the air had gone thin. "You really don't want to know," she told him, barely a whisper.

"No, I do," he pressed stubbornly. "I want to know everything."

And maybe that was true – maybe it was _her_ who didn't want him to know. She'd grown up in a shitty, abusive situation. It wasn't exactly news to anyone. But saying it aloud, it was akin to shoving a serrated knife in her gut and twisting. She'd never really spoken the words aloud before.

Occasionally, in a fit of rage, she'd blurt out something telling; like the placement of her various scars, or the fact there had been periods where she'd gone days without a decent meal. She refrained from telling people – she didn't want their sympathy.

Even the twins – the two people she trusted most in this world – knew only the bare-bones of the situation. She didn't want them to look at her and see only the trauma she'd suffered. She wanted them to see their best friend – the strong, feisty artist they'd come to love. What if she told everyone the truth of what happened to her as a kid, and the image she'd carefully constructed over all these years got swept away by a wave _pity_?

She wasn't sure she'd survive it.

But looking at Sirius now, staring at her, so open and raw, Winona knew she couldn't feed him the pretty lies she fed everyone else. After all he'd endured, her dad deserved the truth.

So she told him the truth of it, just the fundamental facts of her upbringing. She stayed away from the more traumatic stories, keeping things rather vague, but she didn't lie about any of it. Didn't make it seem easier to bear than it was.

Sirius was stoic as she spoke, the clock ticking closer and closer to midnight. She wondered at one point whether he were even still listening, or whether she might as well have been shouting into the void. But then Sirius said, "Can I see them?"

And she knew he meant her scars. With trembling hands, Winona slowly rolled up the hem of her shirt, just enough to reveal the ugly, twisted scar that marred her otherwise smooth skin. Sirius didn't try to reach out and touch it, in fact, he only looked at it a moment before turning away, like he couldn't bear the sight of it.

Self-conscious, Winona tugged her shirt back into place. Sirius seemed to read her thoughts in her eyes, and pain twisted on his face.

"I'm – Winnie, I'm just so – I'm so sorry," he stumbled over the words some, maybe because they felt so heavy and useless on his tongue.

"It's not your fault," she whispered, staring down into her empty mug. The dregs of her tea gathered at the bottom. Some distant part of her mind wondered whether she should bother trying to read them, but she dismissed it. What did it matter, at this point?

"Yes, it is," Sirius said, self-hatred burning like Fiendfyre in his voice. Winona looked up in surprise, seeing the self-loathing in his voice mirrored in his stormy eyes. "If I hadn't let my need for vengeance get the better of me – if I'd gone home to you, instead of rushing off to confront Pettigrew-"

"Don't do that," Winona told him sternly. "Don't ever do that. Take it from a Seer; the what-ifs will only tear you apart."

Sirius couldn't quite manage a smile. "My own parents – they beat me," he said, blurting it like the words had been stuck beneath the surface, itching to burst free. "And – Winnie – I _never_ wanted that for you," he said, tears in his eyes that made Winona's own eyes burn. "When you were born, I swore that wouldn't happen to you. That I'd raise you right – that you'd be free from that kind of oppression…and I failed you…"

He pressed a hand over his mouth as if to physically keep the words from pouring out, and Winona reached across the table for his other hand, gripping it tight. He met her eyes, pain glittering in their stormy depths – so like her own – and she knew what to say.

"The past is in the past," she told him firmly. "It cannot be changed. But the future _can_. The future is ours now."

He gripped her hand tightly, like it were the only thing left keeping him from sinking into the hell of oblivion. "I'll never let anybody hurt you, ever again," he vowed. "On everything I am, I swear it."

"I'll never let anybody hurt you, either," Winona swore, and she could feel the oath in her very bones. Along with it came a weighted sort of feeling in her chest, like something was latching onto her heart and trying to drag it into another place; another _time._

Her vision began to flicker, and Winona gasped. Her dad called out her name in alarm.

"Get me something to write with," she demanded, her grip on the world already beginning to slip away, the current of time pulling her down beneath the undertow.

"What? Why?" he asked. He'd never seen her in a vision before, didn't know how to react.

"I need something – parchment, a book – anything," she told him urgently. Her vision flickered again, flashes of colour at the edges of her eyes, the vision crowding her head like a smog. "Quickly!"

A moment, then one of the smaller canvases was pressed into her reaching hands, along with a thin stick of charcoal. Sighing with relief, Winona let go and let the current of time take her away.

Flashes of blinding light; a large, cavernous room; a cane with the silvery head of a serpent; cackling laughter, the kind that itched at your skin and turned your blood to ice; her father's voice shouting, "Nice one!"; then a scream that filled every inch of her body. It was familiar, she realised with a twinge, but it took her too long to recognise the voice as her own.

"Winona?!"

She hadn't realised she'd come back to the present until she finally heard her dad's voice calling her name and felt his hands gripping tight to her tense shoulders.

"I'm here," she blurted, coming back to herself. "I'm back."

Relieved to see her back to her usual self, Sirius took a heavy seat on the chair beside her. "Was that a vision?" he asked wearily.

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat, surprised to find it felt raw.

"Do you always scream like that?"

Winona blinked. "I was screaming?"

"Sirius!" came Remus' voice, followed closely by the loud sound of heavy footsteps clunking against the stairs. Remus finally appeared in the doorway, brandishing his wand, more dishevelled than Winona had ever seen him. "What happened? Winnie? Are you okay? What happened?" he demanded in a panic. "Should I call the Order?"

"Take a breath, Moony," said Sirius with a breathless sort of chuckle. Seeming to finally realise there was no threat, Remus collapsed against the wall, sucking in breaths of air.

"You wear matching pyjama sets to bed?" Winona wondered, eyeing Remus' set of pale blue flannel pyjamas. "Why am I not surprised? You're such a square, Moony."

Sirius laughed, and by now Remus was getting the sense there was really no reason for him to have panicked, and he took another deep breath, looking like he very much regretted leaving bed. "What in Merlin's name did you scream for?" he asked crossly.

Winona held up the small canvas in her hands. "Vision," she told him apologetically. "Sort of unavoidable."

The canvas reminded them all that she had visions for a _reason_; and as one they all looked down at the sketch she'd blindly etched onto the canvas with her stick of charcoal. It was a simple drawing; a large, stone archway sketched into the centre of the page. As Winona stared down at the archway, pieces of information came back to her.

The evil laughter; the flashes of bright light – like spells being cast; the way she was going to scream out in pure, unadulterated _horror _sometime in the future. Sirius was saying something, but Winona couldn't hear him. She was lost in the memory of her foreboding glimpse.

"I think I'm going to head to bed," she said before she'd even realised she'd spoken. Whatever the two Marauders were saying came to an abrupt halt, and when she looked up they were staring at her in concern.

"Winnie," said Sirius reproachfully. "What did you see?"

And she knew she'd said she wasn't going to lie to Sirius – but unfortunately, some fates were just inescapable. "Not sure yet," she lied fluently. "I'll try and work it out – let Dumbledore know by the next meeting."

Sirius didn't look particularly convinced, but she hadn't really expected him to.

"I _am_ really tired though," she told them, standing to her feet, the prediction held tight to her chest like if she kept it from ever seeing the light of day, then maybe it would never come true.

"You'd tell us if it was important, right?" Sirius pressed.

Winona could lie no more. "I'll always tell you what I _can_," she said fairly, something she knew Sirius couldn't argue with. Like she'd predicted, he sealed his lips shut and leaned back in his chair, begrudgingly placated. "Sorry for waking you, Remus. I'll see you both in the morning. Oh, and Sirius," she said, pausing in the doorway. "Thanks for the art supplies. They made me really happy."

Sirius smiled, but the expression in his eyes was tight. "I'm glad, Pup."

With that, Winona escaped up to her room. It remained undecorated, the walls bare and most of her things still stored in the safety of her trunk. Winona shut and locked the door behind her, then set the foreboding sketch on the desk and stared at it for so long her eyes began to sting.

Three things she knew with complete certainty: One, that sometime in the future, she was going to find herself in a cavernous room with an archway in the centre.

Two, that when that time came, Sirius was going to die.

And three, that _on her life_, she wasn't going to let it happen.

* * *

The day the Weasleys arrived at Grimmauld Place came as a total shock. Winona was in the kitchen just after lunch sketching an outline onto a fresh canvas to paint over later while Sirius and Remus stood by the fire nursing glasses of whiskey. They were talking in low voices, not particularly trying to keep her from overhearing, but not going out of their way to include her, either.

Winona didn't care, too busy with her art to be bothered trying to listen in. If it was important enough for her to know, then sooner or later, she would.

The front door opened with a loud creak, and voices filled the hallway. For a long moment they were foreign and indistinct, but then Winona heard the telltale sound of a fake leg thumping against the floorboards, followed by the critical voice of Mrs Weasley.

"Honestly, you'd think this were home to a family of ghouls! Look at the state of things. Oh, we'll be cleaning this up right away. I won't have any family of mine letting this place stay so filthy. What do you think, Arthur? It could do with a little more light, couldn't it? Would it kill someone to open a window?"

Winona looked up at Sirius and Remus with wide eyes, and Sirius was smiling knowingly. He nodded once, a silent confirmation, and Winona abandoned her task, leaping excitedly to her feet.

Mr Weasley appeared first in the doorway, a patient look on his face as his wife rambled on. Mrs Weasley appeared next, and her expression lit up when she saw Winona stood in the middle of the kitchen, a look of eager anticipation on her face.

"Hello, dear!" she said, shuffling along the tight fit of the narrow room to reach Winona, bringing her into a warm embrace. "Oh, it's so good to see you! How have you been? You've been eating enough, I trust?"

More redheads were spilling into the room before Winona could answer, and she lit up even more at the sight of Ron and Ginny, the both of them a sight for sore eyes. But before she could greet them, an impatient voice cut through the noise.

"Win?!" Fred's voice called, and Winona simultaneously perked up and relaxed at the sound of it. "That you?!"

"Fred!" she called, watching as Ginny and Ron were rudely pushed out of the way, making room for Fred to bowl through them. He ran at Winona with all the speed of an overexcited puppy, and she let out a pealing laugh as he swept her into his arms, spinning her playfully around in circles in the middle of the kitchen.

"It's barely been a week," Ron griped to Ginny in an undertone. "You'd think they hadn't seen each other in years."

Winona and Fred ignored him with ease, too wrapped up in each other to care about Ron's sour complaints. "_This_ is where you've been hiding out?" Fred was asking, finally putting her feet back on the floor, long fingers curled around her hips, grounding her like nothing else. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to – Fidelius Charm," she explained, hands still hooked around his neck. He was tall and solid against her, skin radiating warmth that bloomed in her chest, making her heart feel hot. "But you're here now! Is everything okay? You guys are all safe, right? Where's Percy?" she asked, eyeing the gathered group, stomach swooping at the idea that something might have happened to him – even if he was technically her least favourite of the Weasleys.

She wasn't expecting the visceral reaction her innocent question received. Mr Weasley went a rather alarming shade of purple, and tears appeared in Mrs Weasley eyes.

"Y'know, you're kind of a rubbish Seer," said George, appearing in the doorway, an amused look on his face.

"George!" she called, reluctantly letting go of Fred to slide into George's arms, wrapping her own around his middle and holding tight.

"We'll explain the Percy thing later," George whispered surreptitiously in her ear. She nodded against his chest, pulling back just as Sirius interjected, smoothly change the subject.

"Welcome to my home," he said with a perfectly straight face, making it sound like he were awfully proud of the place. The strange reaction of Mr and Mrs Weasley subsided, and they were left speechless. It would be impossible Sirius hadn't heard Mrs Weasley's criticism of the house as they'd entered. She looked exceedingly uncomfortable.

"Sirius, be nice," Winona scolded him, leaving George's side and moving automatically to Fred's. She slipped her hand into his, holding tight. "Sorry about him, Mrs Weasley. He thinks he's funny."

"I _am_ funny!" argued Sirius, but he went ignored.

"We know this place is a dump," she continued like he hadn't spoken. "We've tried to tidy up a bit, but the house has been empty over a decade now, you see, so it's rather a big job."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley with a thin smile, "now that we're all here, it should go much quicker."

Ginny and the twins let out matching groans, suddenly seeing their futures as clearly as if they were Winona; and it was going to involve a horrendous amount of cleaning.

"Why don't I show you to your rooms?" asked Sirius. "You can all get settled in."

Mr Weasley agreed, and with Sirius at the front the lot of them began to make their way back up the stairs that led to the other floors of the house.

Ginny's room was first. "I put you by yourself, but with room for Hermione, when she arrives tomorrow," Sirius told the youngest Weasley.

Nobody missed the way Mrs Weasley curled a protective arm around her daughter's shoulders. Although it was a little offensive, Winona couldn't find it in her to blame Mrs Weasley. As far as they knew, until very recently, Sirius Black had been the most dangerous mass-murderer in Britain.

They dropped Ron off at his room a floor up. "Same with you, Ron, with room for Harry," Sirius said, waving Ron into a small, shadowed room with a bed pressed to either wall.

"Great," said Ron with a tentative smile. "Thanks."

Another floor up and they reached Mr and Mrs Weasley's room. Sirius led them inside, showing them where they could put their things and letting them know where the nearest bathroom was. The room beside theirs belonged to Remus, so they skipped over that one, and the one at the back of the floor was designated Fred and George's.

Sirius waved them in. "It's rather small, but I'd say you're probably used to sharing tight spaces," he said jovially.

"Yeah, of course," said George, clapping Sirius on the shoulder with easy familiarity. It took Winona by surprise, but that was the twins – they'd give anyone a chance. Even an escaped convict. "We don't mind. No doubt Fred'll be bunking with Winnie most of the time, anyway."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Winona watched the realisation trickle over George that he'd just said that to her _father._ Winona pressed a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter at both George's horror and Fred's bright red ears.

Sirius looked less than impressed, and it was enough to sober her some. To her surprise, he didn't immediately outlaw it. Winona got the feeling he was doing his best to honour what he'd said when she'd first arrived – that he might be her father, but he wouldn't try to control her life.

Instead, he turned to Fred with danger in his eyes. Although Winona knew Sirius wasn't _actually_ a cold-blooded murderer, in that moment, it was easy to imagine he could be. "I should warn you, I have the room right beside Winnie's," he told Fred, slow and deliberate. "And the walls are thin."

By now Fred's whole face was fire-engine red. "Um, I'll keep that in mind, sir," he said, sounding choked.

Winona smothered another laugh, and Sirius grinned innocently, clapping her boyfriend cheerfully on the shoulder. "Call me Sirius," he said, but there was a threat in the words that you'd have to be deaf to miss. Fred went from red to white in an instant.

There were footsteps on the landing, and Mrs Weasley poked her head through the doorway. If she was suspicious about what they were talking about, she didn't show it. "We're calling a little meeting downstairs in ten minutes, Mr Black. Just to talk about the rules of your house, mealtimes, that sort of thing."

"Sirius is fine, Molly," he said with an easy smile, and Mrs Weasley attempted one in return. She slipped from the room without a look back. He turned to Winona with raised brows. "Rules of my house?" he asked, brow furrowed in confusion. "Er, is it bad that I can't think of any?"

"Yes," said Winona solemnly. "It means you're a terrible parental figure."

Sirius just rolled his eyes. "See you in ten," he said, ruffling her hair in the way she always did to Harry, making her wonder if it was something she'd gotten from him after all, then giving the three of them some space to get reacquainted.

"You two seem close," said George, pulling a miniaturised trunk from his pocket and laying it on his bed. With a flick of his wrist it grew to its usual size, and he opened it, already beginning to unpack. "Been good, staying here with him?"

It was hard to concentrate on what George was saying. Winona distracted by the way Fred's fingers were drawing shapes into the small sliver of skin revealed by the hem of her shirt. "Been great," she told him succinctly. "We've been getting to know one another. It's actually been really…nice," she said, swallowing back a giggle as Fred's fingers danced over a ticklish spot.

George looked up from where he was sorting through his novelty sock collection. "Oh, all right, I get it," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Go…canoodle, or whatever is you so desperately need to do. I'll just sit here and sort through my sock collection alone like an idiot, shall I?"

They'd both stopped listening. "Thanks, mate," said Fred distractedly, Winona already tugging him towards the door. George called something scathing after them, but neither cared enough to hear it.

"This way," whispered Winona eagerly, taking hold of the front of Fred's shirt and using it to tug him along. "I'm upstairs."

Fred went with her without a word, hands still holding tight to her hips, like he were half afraid she might disappear if he let go. He was on her the moment they were on the upstairs landing and could kiss without the danger of breaking their necks on the stairs.

Winona laughed into his eager kiss, still gripping his shirt in a tight fist, dragging him across the landing to her bedroom door. It was ajar, swinging open when she all but threw Fred against it. He tripped inside with a very unsexy yelp that made her laugh, and she quickly shut and locked the door behind her, sealing them inside.

But he didn't care she was laughing at him – he just wanted to be kissing her. They met in the middle, his arms winding solidly around her waist, tugging her so she was flush against him. Winona sighed into his mouth, bringing her hands up to thread them through his hair. Something was different, and she pulled back with a blink. Fred chased her lips, but she was stubborn.

"You got a haircut?" she asked in surprise, eyeing his new, shorter hair.

"Mum finally snapped and sat us down to cut it," he chuckled, hands still gripping her waist. "You really didn't notice until now?"

She grinned, pushing up onto her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I was so happy to see you, I guess I overlooked it."

"Do you like it?" he asked, rubbing his fingertips up and down her spine, causing little sparks of desire to tickle at her nerves.

She hummed a yes, dipping her hands back into his red hair, the shorter length of it feeling different, but something she could definitely get used to. "Suits you," she told him with an impish look in her eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked, pleased.

She laughed, tugging his head back down to her level so she could kiss him again, slanting their mouths together and all but climbing onto him in her enthusiasm. He gave a muffled grunt as his hands wrapped around her thighs, hefting her up against him and pressing her back soundly into the closed door.

He broke away from her ardent kisses to take a much-needed breath. "Miss me?" he asked playfully.

She rocked her hips into his and tugged him back to her by his hair. "So much," she said, swallowing his groan.

"Don't do that," he said when they pulled away again. "I have to go downstairs in five minutes and somehow look your father in the eye, y'know?"

She pouted dramatically. "Are you really thinking of my father at a time like this?" she asked him, tugging gently at his hair, just enough to make a pleasurable shiver run down the length of his spine.

"No," he said earnestly. "I'm really not."

There were about three minutes of wonderful, wonderful bliss before their amorous snogging and wandering hands were interrupted by the shrill, unwelcome shout of Mrs Weasley.

"Fred! George!" she shouted impatiently, voice muffled by the door but clear all the same. "Time to come down."

With a shared sigh of disappointment, Winona unwound her legs from around Fred's waist and slid reluctantly to the floor. His hands glided up her thighs back to her hips, which he grabbed and held tight. She drifted forwards until her forehead bumped against his clavicle, wrapping her arms around his middle and burrowing her face into his neck.

He smelt exactly the same as he always did – like fresh soil and that ashy smell in the air after fireworks had just gone off. It was more comforting than anything else in the world, and she breathed it in like an addict.

"We're not going to get any time alone here, are we?" Fred sighed into her hair, seeming to breathe her in just the same.

She giggled against his neck. "We're going to try," she promised him. "And that's probably going to be half the fun."

Very reluctantly they made their way from her room, meeting up with George on the floor below and making their way down the stairs together to make it less obvious she and Fred had just been necking in her bedroom.

She wound her arm through George's as they walked. "I only just noticed your hair," she told him lightly.

"Well, I imagine you _were_ rather distracted," he said, amusement warm in his voice.

"A little," she replied, the furthest thing from ashamed. She glanced back at Fred, shooting him a playful wink that made him laugh.

"D'you like it?" George wondered, much as his twin had, reaching up to fuss with the newly cut hair. "I wanted to keep it long – but mum said we were looking too much like Bill and made us cut it."

"It looks brilliant," she assured him. "Where is Bill, by the way? I thought since he moved back he'd be staying with you."

"Nah," said Fred as they made their way down the final staircase. "He's got his own place in Diagon Alley – close to Gringotts. Makes it easier for him to get to and from work."

"Is he part of the Order?"

The twins paused as they made their way into the kitchen. "The Order?" asked George curiously.

Winona opened her mouth to answer him, but she was interrupted by a stern bark of her name. Surprised, she looked up to see Sirius eyeing her meaningfully and she realised with a start that, in the excitement of it all, she'd nearly forgotten all about the Unbreakable Vow she'd made.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, along with the rest of their brood, all sat at the table with glasses and a pitcher of water being passed around. Remus and Mad-Eye were stood against the wall, while Sirius was sat at the head of the table, putting down that morning's copy of the _Prophet_ as he saw them ready to begin.

"Take a seat, you three," Mrs Weasley ordered them sternly.

"Well," said Fred once they were seated, Winona between the two of them. "This is ominous."

Mr Weasley sat forwards in his chair. "There's just a few things we want to go over with you all. Now that we're here, we can talk freely."

"Yeah, and where exactly is _here_?" George wondered. "It looks like it belonged to Death Eaters."

"That's because it did," said Sirius, and the twins sobered at the blunt answer. "It was my family's house, and let's just say they weren't known for their sunny dispositions. Now that they're all gone, it belongs to me. I offered it to Dumbledore as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Yeah, but what _is_ the Order of the Phoenix?" Ron asked, desperate for some answers.

Remus stepped forwards, using what Winona had come to call his 'teacher-voice' as he explained what the Order was, why they were operating out of Sirius' decrepit house, and why it all had to be kept so secret.

"You're part of a secret society?" George asked his parents, face scrunched as he considered it. "That's so _cool._"

Mrs Weasley looked exasperated, but Mr Weasley just smiled in quiet amusement.

"So, the aim is to fight You-Know-Who even though the Ministry says it's all bollocks?" asked Fred, rocking on the two back legs of his chair. "Brilliant. Where do we sign up?"

Mrs Weasley's eyes flashed. "_You_ will not be signing up for _anything_, Fred Weasley."

There was a low thump as all four of Fred's chair legs hit the floor. "What?" he asked, blindsided. "Why not?!"

"Because you're still in school. It's not proper," she was vehemently shaking her head. "When you've graduated – maybe then we can discuss-"

"But we're of age!" shouted Fred. "You can't stop us!"

Her eyes flashed again, this time in warning, and even Winona was a little bit afraid. "I most certainly can," she said, voice sharp enough to cut diamond.

"Molly, dear…" sighed Mr Weasley, already mopping nervously at the bald spot on his head.

"No," said Mrs Weasley, eyes like fire. "I will not have any of them signing up, Arthur. I'm putting my foot down. I simply won't allow it."

And Mr Weasley clearly knew he was fighting a losing battle, and he relented with a sigh. Remus stepped forwards again, looking exceptionally awkward in the wake of the argument. "Being this our headquarters, we'll be holding frequent meetings here-"

"Which means you're all to _stay in your rooms_ until you're told you're allowed to wander about," interjected Mrs Weasley in a harsh voice. Mr Weasley looked like he was contemplating stepping in, but not even the most courageous Gryffindor would wade into that mess.

"What, so we're not allowed to know _anything_?" Ron asked hotly.

"No, you're not," snapped Mrs Weasley. "You're too young. It's no business of yours."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," scoffed Fred. "We're seventeen. We deserve to be in there as much as anyone. Tell them, Win!"

Eyes flew to Winona, and she shrank back in her chair, suddenly extremely uncomfortable. "Uh, well, Mrs Weasley," she began, mouth dry, "if _I'm_ allowed in the Order, I don't see why the twins can't-"

"_You're_ in the Order?" Mrs Weasley demanded shrilly, outraged.

Winona winced. "Technically?"

The twins were gaping at her, and she felt strangely guilty, even though she knew she'd done nothing wrong. "And whose idea was that?" Mrs Weasley demanded.

"Dumbledore's," said Mad-Eye in a no-nonsense growl.

"But she's still in school-"

"Winona's of age," Sirius reminded her. "And although I don't feel like it's really my decision, I did give my blessing as her father."

Mrs Weasley seemed utterly speechless, staring at them all like they'd gone barmy.

Sensing she needed some reassurance, Sirius continued on. "Winnie's not an active member," he told her soothingly. "She doesn't go out on missions. She doesn't even leave the house. She's in the Order because her knowledge and insight are invaluable to us. Dumbledore said it himself; we can't win this war without her. But she's not in any unnecessary danger, Molly. Do you think I'd allow it if she was?"

And not even Mrs Weasley, stubborn as she was, could argue with that.

"Well, you might as well read us into the Order right now, then," said Fred importantly, "because if Winnie's a part of it, then there's no way George and I won't hear about everything anyway."

And now the guilt had a reason for being there, and she hated it. "Er, actually…" she said awkwardly, and both the twins turned to stare at her in disbelief. "Not that I don't _want_ to tell you everything – you know I do – but I sort of…" she trailed off unsurely.

"You sort of what?" Fred demanded.

Winona could only make a nervous humming noise. "Dumbledore's condition for her joining the Order was an Unbreakable Vow," Sirius said so she wouldn't have to. "Winona _literally _cannot tell either of you anything."

Fred was staring at her in shock, and Mrs Weasley had gone pale. "Winona," she said in stark disapproval. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Winona didn't quite like her tone. Mrs Weasley was a lot of things to her, an incredibly important part of her life, but that didn't make her Winona's mother, or even as good as. "I made my decision," she said strongly, refusing to give. "It's done."

Mrs Weasley suddenly looked like she were about to cry. The guilt returned with a vengeance, and Winona sighed.

"The Order needs me," she told Mrs Weasley firmly. "Harry needs me. I did what I had to do to help. This is war, Mrs Weasley. We're all going to have to make sacrifices."

Mrs Weasley burst into tears, and Winona sat back in alarm. The plump woman climbed out of her chair and shuffled along the wall to reach Winona, plucking her from where she sat and drawing her into a wet hug.

"Oh, dear Merlin," she cried into Winona's shoulder. "Such a heavy weight on your shoulders, Winona. I don't mean to nag. I know you're doing your best. Oh, sweet girl…"

Mr Weasley stood to pat her comfortingly on her back. "C'mon, Molly," he said gently. "Give Winona some room to breathe. Why don't we put on some tea?"

Reluctantly pulling away, Mrs Weasley wiped at her eyes and shot Winona an unconvincing smile before shuffling over to put on the kettle.

There was a minute of cautious silence, then, "Does this mean George and I can join the Order now?"

"If they're joining, there's no _way_ I'm not," interjected Ron. Sirius dropped his face into his hands, exhausted already, and Winona shut her eyes with a sigh. Fred began to push the point, telling his mum all the reasons why he would be an asset to their ranks, George at his side. Ginny joined in, but her arguments were mostly based on her parents' ageist decision making skills.

Mr Weasley had finally had enough. "_Nobody's_ joining the Order!" he shouted with enough force to silence his family. They stared all at him in surprise. "Nobody's joining the Order, and that's final," he said in a more mild tone of voice, and not even the twins dared argue with that.

As the kettle began to whistle it was ready, Mrs Weasley spoke. "It should go without saying, but nobody's to ask Winona _anything_ about Order business," she said, giving the twins a meaningful look. "It'll be hard enough as it is, keeping quiet, without you lot begging her for something she can't give you."

It was unexpectedly thoughtful, and Winona smiled at Mrs Weasley in gentle thanks. She smiled back, still just a little bit teary.

"Now, Sirius," she continued as she began to pour them all tea. "Why don't you tell us the rules of the household?"

Sirius blinked. Clearly he'd been hoping her comment from before wouldn't eventuate into anything.

"Erm – can't think of much," he confessed a little woodenly. "Oh, er, don't go into the master bedroom on the second floor."

"Why not?" Ginny asked immediately.

"Buckbeak lives there."

Mrs Weasley frowned in confusion. "Who, exactly, is Buckbeak?"

Sirius began to explain, as best he could, exactly who and what Buckbeak was. But Winona wasn't listening. Instead she was fretting about the twins' reaction to what they'd just been told. Were they mad at her? Were they going to hold it against her, agreeing not to tell them anything about the meetings? Did they see it as a sort of betrayal?

Somehow sensing her unease, Fred's hand slid onto her thigh underneath the table. There was nothing sexual about the touch, it was just a gentle, reassuring presence. It seemed to say:

_I'm not angry with you. I'm worried about you. Are you okay?_

Winona took his hand in both of hers, holding tenderly and tracing patterns onto the back of his hand with her fingertips. It was both an answer and a thank you.

_Thank you. I adore you. I'm fine._

"Well, as a thank you to Sirius for letting us stay in his home," Mrs Weasley began once Sirius could pull no more random rules out of his arse, "we're going to clean this place until it's spotless."

Ron's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "The _whole_ house?"

"Yes, Ron, the whole house."

"But that'll take us weeks!"

"Well, then we'd better get started."

"Actually, Molly, why don't you give them the night off?" said Sirius quickly, and they turned to look at him, the kids all shocked he'd dared speak out against the Weasley matriarch. "As much as this place could do with a clean, I think they're entitled to at least _one_ night of decent rest before the work begins. Don't you?"

Mrs Weasley couldn't possibly disagree without looking like the bad guy, so she reluctantly nodded her head. "All right," she said reluctantly, turning back to her children. "You can spend the rest of the night relaxing. But tomorrow I expect each of you up early to begin cleaning."

"Yes, mum," her brood chimed robotically.

Winona caught Sirius' eye across the table. "Thank you," she mouthed. Her dad winked back playfully and it lightened the weight on her heart.

Mrs Weasley promptly sent them all off on their own for the hour or so before dinner to give her some space in the kitchen to work. Ginny and Ron disappeared immediately, off to do their own thing, but the twins stayed with Winona.

As much as she'd have loved to drag Fred back up to her room to finish what they'd started earlier, she knew they couldn't abandon George like that. Besides, she'd missed hanging out with them as friends. Sometimes, in amongst all the changes, it was easy to forget that was what they all were at the core; best friends.

"Wanna see my makeshift art studio?" she asked, fingers intertwined with Fred's with one hand, the other tugging George impatiently by the elbow. "I mentioned to Sirius that I wanted to start using canvas again, and I woke up the next morning to this massive pile of supplies."

She pulled them up the stairs to the first floor sitting room where she'd set herself up. The couch had once been in the centre of the room, but she'd pushed it back to make space for her easel, and now you had to shuffle around it awkwardly to get into the room, but Winona didn't care.

"Wow," said Fred, moving over to the row of canvases she'd lined up along the wall to dry. She let go of his hand to let him wander, moving instead to the canvas atop the easel where her latest project lay half finished. "I don't think I've ever seen you work with oil paints before," he murmured as he strolled down the line of artwork.

"I can't very well work with them at Hogwarts, can I?" she asked. "It's too messy. The girls would never let me make a studio out of the dorm, no matter how much I begged."

"So what've you been doing with your time, other than painting?" asked George as he took a seat on the couch, bouncing twice on the springy cushion.

"Spent awhile baking," she admitted. "But Sirius complained he was getting fat and bought me all this equipment, so I've mostly just been hauled up in here, listening to records and painting."

"And how _are_ things going with Sirius?" Fred asked, moving away from her row of masterpieces to wrap an arm around her middle, almost like he were anchoring himself to her. It made her heart flutter and she wrapped her own arms over top of his.

"Really well," she confessed. "Incredibly well. _Unexpectedly_ well."

"You two've been talking, then?"

"Yeah," she nodded, leaning back against Fred, feeling the warmth of the fire on her skin as her boyfriend slowly began to rock from side to side with her in his arms, like a dance without the music. "We actually, um, we talked about my mum."

Fred never paused in his rocking, but when he spoke, his voice held surprised. "Really?"

"Thought you were holding back from that till you were ready," said George from where he'd picked up the sketchbook she'd left laid on the couch and conjured a pencil absentmindedly. She opened her eyes as he began to sketch halfheartedly on a blank page.

"Guess I decided I _was_ ready," she murmured.

"And?" Fred asked quietly. "What'd you learn?"

"Not much," she admitted. "She played piano and liked to write songs. She hated Mondays and loved pasta, so her Moony called her Garfield. She always had flowers in her house, and she really, really loved her little brother."

Her eyes had turned distant and glassy, and Fred's arms tightened around her. "Well, that's an awful lot more than you knew last week," he said optimistically. It made Winona smile; trust Fred to always see the positives.

A thought came to her suddenly, and her expression darkened as she remembered what she'd drawn the night before. She opened her mouth to tell the twins on instinct, but something stopped her. Maybe telling people wasn't a good idea; maybe this was one of those things she was meant to keep close to her chest.

She trusted the twins with everything she was; but this wasn't a burden she could share lightly. This was too important. Maybe it was even the answer to her oldest question: why she even had these abilities in the first place.

Could it be that the stars had aligned to give her this gift with one very specific purpose? To save her father in the not-so distant future? Because she knew, deep in her bones, that this was her new mission in life. She was going to save Sirius Black.

* * *

**A/N: Grimmauld Place domestics are one of my favourite things to write. Didn't get much of a response on the last chapter, so I'm really, really hoping you guys are still enjoying this story. What did you think of this one? What are you hoping to see in this OotP section of the story?**

**ALSO: just to clear something up, I've been getting messages telling me that someone is uploading my stories to AO3, and I'd like to reassure you all that it IS me. My pen name over there is _ImaginationFever_, if you were curious. Thanks to everyone who let me know, though! Never stop checking, because if it hadn't been me, there's no way I ever would have known. You're the best!**

**Spotlight review goes to: _Raven that flies at night_ – because you mentioned wanting to read about Jessica Potter, and so I hope you enjoyed this glimpse of her. There will be plenty more Jessica content in the future, perhaps even a flashback or two (though not for awhile yet).**


	52. Just thinking about the future

**A/N: Hey guys, so I had some questions about my uploading schedule, and I thought I'd let you know how it sits now. At the moment I'm trying to post every week on Thursday night (you'll have to look up timezones as to when this exactly will apply to you). I have no specific time, just sometime during the evening. **

**I'm considering taking a short break in the coming weeks to work on getting ahead with my writing (to those of you who are interested, I'm very deep into the sequel to Heart of the Storm, and it's taking up a lot of my time), but if I am going to be taking any sort of break from posting this story on the usual Thursday night, I'll definitely let you know first.**

**Hope this clears it all up, and thanks for your continued support! **

* * *

The weeks passed in a haze of cleaning, laughter, boring meetings and stolen moments in dark corners with Fred.

Mrs Weasley was true to her word; Hermione arrived the next day, and she immediately began to work them all to the bone. They scrubbed everything from the floor to the furniture. George joked that his mother wouldn't be happy until they could see their reflections in the walls.

Winona, however, was permitted to do significantly less cleaning than the rest of them. As an integral member of the Order of the Phoenix, Winona was thrust into meeting after meeting, most of which were utterly needless for her to actually attend.

When she'd been read into the Order, she'd thought all the meetings were going to be dumps of life-altering, tide-changing information. In reality, it was just endless patrol briefings and boring intelligence reports. Winona wasn't sure what the skyrocketing price of Muggle petrol had to do with You-Know-Who and his reign of terror, but the Order certainly seemed concerned by it.

Harry was being watched 24/7; a fact for which Winona was grateful. What she wasn't grateful for, however, was the fact that Harry didn't _know_ about it.

"Why can't we tell him?" she demanded of Dumbledore for at least the fifth meeting in a row. "He's going crazy at the Dursley's, and he's constantly looking over his shoulder. It'd give him some peace of mind to know he isn't alone!"

Dumbledore, as always, ignored her pleas.

Harry was growing more and more frustrated with every letter he sent. Winona couldn't tell him most things, and for as many bones as she was throwing him, he was beginning to see through her carefully worded apologies and promises that everything would be clear in time.

He didn't _want_ things to be clear in time. He wanted them to be clear _now._

Fred and George tried to assuage the guilt she was carrying around like a backpack by telling her it was for the best. They'd surprised her by not trying to get around the Vow she'd made to Dumbledore in any way. When she broke a few weeks in and asked what their plans were to get around the gag order, Fred had simply looked her in the eye and said, "No information's worth your life."

And that was that. That didn't mean they weren't trying to learn more about what the Order was talking about, of course. They tried everything from accosting every Order member to come through the house in hopes of annoying them into a confession, to inventing an extendable ear so they could try to spy on the meetings themselves. But never once did they ask Winona for answers.

She really, _really_ loved those twins.

The worst thing of all, maybe, was that Winona was going absolutely, positively, mind-numbingly stir-crazy. She was snapping at everyone she came across, and her sleep was plagued with even more nightmares than usual. She was getting about ready to explode in pure frustration, and the twins could only watch as she got more and more antsy with every day that passed.

She eventually stopped venturing out to help the others clean. Instead she locked herself in her room and painted, trying to channel her vexation into art. But for once, it just wasn't cutting it.

"I know you're sick of it, Pup," said Sirius late one night, the pair sat by the fire, sharing a pint of chocolate chip ice cream between them. "I am too."

"I feel useless," she lamented. "I haven't had a helpful vision in weeks. I'm so tired I can barely function. And these goddamn _walls_ feel like they're getting smaller with every passing day."

"I know," he said, reaching out to smooth a gentle hand down her hair. "You look like shite."

It was enough to make her laugh, a tired, pitiful sound. "Thanks."

"It's for the best," he reminded her. "Nothing's more important than your safety."

"What about my _sanity_?" she grumbled around her spoon.

Her dad smiled fondly. "You'll be back at Hogwarts soon enough."

But _soon enough_ wasn't, in fact, coming soon enough.

"I'm going crazy!" she shouted, having just come out of a three-hour long Order meeting, the majority of which had focused on Mundungus' patrol schedule, and whether or not they needed to up the Order presence at Gringotts. "I swear to Godric, if I don't get a break soon, I'm going to _murder_ somebody."

Fred was reclined on her bed, arms folded under his head as he watched her pace the length of her bedroom. She'd slowly been decorating it more and more, mostly with her own paintings, using temporary Sticking Charms to fasten the canvases to the walls. It looked more like a miniature art gallery than a bedroom, and on most days it brought her at least a little joy.

But not today.

"D'you know I haven't seen the sky since June? _June_, Fred! Can you believe that? _June_!"

Fred just laughed.

"And don't even get me _started_ on the fact that your mother seems to have some weird sixth sense for knowing whenever I'm trying to shag you. And if it's not your mother, then it's Ginny. Or Ron. Or that one time, Sirius."

Fred went pale at the unpleasant memory. "I know," he sighed, scowling up at the patchy ceiling. "If we don't get more than five minutes alone soon, I think I might explode."

Winona collapsed onto the bed beside him. "I miss the stars," she moaned, staring at the ceiling with him, like maybe if she stared hard enough, Merlin might grant her the ability to see through solid objects and she could see the sky above. "Don't you miss the stars, Fred?"

"Not as much as I miss _other_ things," he said impishly. Rolling towards him, Winona met his eyes with an impish look of her own.

"Yeah?" she asked, walking her fingers playfully up the length of his sternum. "Me too."

"If you had to pick something, what would you say you miss _most_?" he asked, slowly rolling over top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She craned her head to catch his lips with hers, kissing him for a long, brilliant moment.

She hummed as she pulled back. "What do I miss most?" she mused, slowly trailing her nails down the length of his spine. She hooked her leg around his hip and Fred shuddered above her.

The moment was interrupted by an obnoxious banging at Winona's bedroom door, and Fred rolled off her with a defeated sigh. Winona grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut tight in frustration.

"Winona?" Mrs Weasley called through the door.

Winona swallowed back a very unkind word. "_Yes_, Mrs Weasley?!"

"Is Fred in there with you?"

Fred groaned quietly, burying his face in her pillow. Winona took a deep breath. "Yeah," she called back. "We're working on…our summer homework."

There was a pause, and Winona would have bet good gold that Mrs Weasley didn't believe a word. "Well, I was about to start on dinner and I could use a hand!" she shouted through the wood. "Could the homework wait until later?"

At this rate, there was never going to _be_ a later, but Winona couldn't very well just say that. "Sure," she called back. "We'll be right out."

Mrs Weasley hovered outside the door another moment before they heard her footsteps slowly walk away. Winona and Fred sat in silence for a long minute, relishing the quiet they knew was about to end.

"I have an idea," said Fred suddenly, and Winona turned to look at him with raised eyebrows.

"It doesn't involve transfiguring Buckbeak into a walrus again, does it? Because I told you and George a thousand times; it isn't as funny of a prank as you think it is."

"Agree to disagree on that one. But no, this is a little more…dangerous."

Winona slowly sat up, a wary look on her face. "What is it?"

Fred sat up with her, that mischievous spark in his eyes that she so loved. "It's a surprise."

Winona groaned. "No, I hate surprises."

"You'll love this one."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Common sense, probably."

Winona laughed, shaking her head. "And when will I receive this surprise I'll probably hate?"

He thought for a moment. "Tonight, after everyone's gone to bed. Meet me in the drawing room."

"I get the feeling this is going to be a terrible, terrible idea," she murmured.

"All the best plans are."

Winona helped Mrs Weasley peel the vegetables for dinner, listening half-heartedly and nodding her head to the mediocre _Celestina Warbeck_ song playing from the radio in the corner. Hermione was helping, too, stood stirring the pot of stew cooking over the fire.

"How has Harry seemed?" Winona asked her when when Mrs Weasley got distracted catching Kreacher trying to hide the silverware out of spite. "In his letters, I mean?"

Hermione sighed very heavily for someone so young. "He's frustrated, and I mean, I don't blame him," she said, looking for a moment like she might cry. Winona suddenly regretted asking.

"It's a frustrating situation," she agreed cautiously.

"He's my best friend in the world and I can tell he's hurting, but there's nothing I can do to help," Hermione continued sadly.

"I feel the same way," Winona murmured, eyes on her task without really _seeing_ any of it. "I feel like I'm being disloyal, somehow. I feel like a jerk."

"Once he gets here and we can explain, things will be better," Hermione said, and she even seemed to believe it. "He's only frustrated because we can't say anything important in our letters. That'll change when he arrives."

"And when, exactly, is he arriving?"

Hermione didn't have an answer, just as Winona knew she wouldn't, and the pair fell back into a heavy quiet.

Dinner was a rather boring affair. Sometimes people from the Order would stay after meetings for something to eat, which usually provided at least a little entertainment. But that night there was no one – Remus wasn't even there. He was off on a secret mission with Tonks and as far as they knew, wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.

Despite her understandable misgivings about Fred's surprise, she was actually growing rather excited for it. Anything to break the monotony of being stuck in a place as dark and gloomy as Grimmauld Place.

The boys were on clean-up duty for the night, and as Winona left to go take a shower, she caught Fred and George standing by the sink, whispering furtively to one another. They were planning something – undoubtedly to do with Fred's surprise – and that alone should have made her wary.

The twins had never pulled a prank on her before – not a serious one, at least – and while she didn't think this was anything like that, she had to admit the twins had something of a…boundless sense of right and wrong. Their penchant for laughter usually overrode common sense, and it was enough to make anyone nervous.

Still, she trusted Fred with her life. And whatever he was planning, stupid though it may have been, she knew she was going to enjoy it.

She waited until everybody was in bed and the whole house was perfectly still. When there wasn't so much as a creak of the floorboards or the low muttering of Kreacher to fill the night air, she knew it was time.

Winona padded her way down to the drawing room, finding Fred already waiting by the fire.

"Ready?" he whispered as she reached him, holding out his hand eagerly.

"Depends," she replied cautiously. "What's the surprise?"

He grinned and puffed up in the way he always did when he was feeling particularly pleased with himself. "I'm taking you on a date," he said, keeping his voice low as he began to drag her out of the room and down the stairs.

"What, all the way down to the kitchen?" she chuckled bitterly. Fred didn't laugh with her, and she realised with a sensation rather like being thunked on the head exactly what this was all about. "Fred, are you fucking _mental_?" she hissed, trying to rip her hand from his, but he held tight. "We can't _leave._"

"Why not?" he asked as they made it to the ground floor. He led her slowly down the hallway, and despite Winona's misgivings she fell wisely silent as they both tiptoed past the slumbering portrait of her grandmother, lest they wake the entire house and ruin everything.

"Because it's dangerous," she hissed once they were in the clear, stood closer to the front door than she'd been in weeks.

"You'll be with me," he said confidently. "I'll keep you safe."

Winona rolled her eyes and forcefully ripped her hand from his, folding her arms over her chest and staring at him, utterly unimpressed.

"Come on," he goaded her in a whisper, tapping at the front door gently. "I thought you wanted to see the stars?"

"Fred," Winona breathed, beyond exasperated. "Sirius will kill me, and your parents will _murder_ you in cold blood for even suggesting-"

"They'll never know," he said convincingly. Winona paused. Was she truly going mad, or was this starting to sound less like a bad idea and more just like a very risky one? Sensing he was winning her over, he barrelled on. "We'll go out for a few hours and be back before they even know we've left."

There were still a million things that could go wrong, and she knew it. But she was also going crazy inside this stupid house, where everyone was relying on her for visions that weren't coming, and she couldn't get a moment alone with her boyfriend without his mother appearing like the Patron Saint of Celibacy.

What was the worst that could happen, honestly? What were the chances the Death Eaters would find her? Surely it was so slim it didn't even register; because otherwise, wouldn't she have _Seen_ it? When she looked back at Fred he was grinning enticingly, and they both knew he'd won.

"If we get caught, I'm running and leaving you for dead," she warned him.

"Yes, darling," he said, and she couldn't possibly deny the flutter in her chest at the casual term of endearment.

With a resigned sigh she put her hand in his and let him lead her out the door.

It probably should have worried her that there weren't any alarms attached to the door – although that may have just been because the wards weren't designed to alert people of anyone _leaving._

When they successfully stepped out onto the street without anybody appearing from the house to shout at them until their throats went dry, Winona let out a breath of relief. "So," she said, keeping her voice low. It was nearly midnight, so most of the street was already asleep. The last thing they needed was anybody waking up. The less witnesses, the better. "Where to?"

"I dunno," Fred said cheerfully.

She raised her eyebrows. "You didn't plan anything?"

"Yes, I did," he argued. "I planned sneaking out of the house. And it was, in my opinion, a raving success."

"So I'm meant to do all the work from here on out?"

"Well, you're half the couple, I figure you could put in half the effort," he said, jabbing her playfully in the ribs. Reluctantly amused, Winona smiled, catching his hand in her own and holding tight. And nothing ever felt so right as holding Fred's hand.

"I know a twenty-four hour cafe in Surrey."

Fred grinned like she'd just told him he'd won the lottery. "Brilliant."

Winona rolled her eyes, pulled him closer by his hand, then apparated with a twist of her feet. There was the unmistakeable sensation of her whole body travelling through something the size of a drinking straw, then her feet hit the pavement and the weight of Fred's hand in hers came back to her.

"How are we?" she asked, turning to assess him. "Nothing splinched?"

Fred let go of her hand to playfully run his own hands down the length of his body, ending with an over-exaggerated check between his legs. "I'm good," he announced, and Winona rolled her eyes. Retaking his hand, she led him out of the alley they'd appeared in.

The street was nondescript and mostly empty. Unsurprising, considering the time of night. There was a small group of teenagers in a huddle across the road, and a young couple walking down the street, too wrapped up in one another to notice anything else.

The cafe she'd brought them to was nestled between a locksmith and a bakery, both of which were long since closed for the night. But the cafe was lit up, a beacon in the otherwise shadowed street. It wasn't very busy, already halfway through the midnight lull.

The bell above the door jingled as she and Fred slipped inside, and the woman behind the counter looked up with a small smile. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" she murmured, brushing back her greying hair. "We're several weeks into the summer and you've yet to come by once. I thought maybe you'd gotten sick of our little hole in the wall."

"Never," said Winona solemnly, leaning across the counter to press a kiss onto the woman's wrinkled cheek. "How've you been, Natalie?"

Natalie – the owner of the cafe and a long-time friend of Winona's – waved off the question. Instead, her shrewd eyes flicked to Fred. "Is this who I think it is?" she asked eagerly. Fred lit up at the question, and suddenly Winona wasn't so sure bringing him here had been the best idea after all.

"Depends," said Fred, unabashedly giddy. "Do you think I'm the charming, devilishly handsome boyfriend she clearly goes on about ad nauseam whenever I'm not around?"

Natalie's eyes sparkled with delight and she held out a hand. "Fred, I take it," she said warmly. Fred's grin only turned more smug, and Winona just knew he was going to be insufferable after this.

"Lovely to meet you, Natalie," Fred told her charmingly, winking for effect.

Natalie smiled, turning her twinkling eyes to Winona. "Oh, I like him very much," she said, understandably enchanted by her boyfriend's charisma. "What'll it be, dear? Just the usual?"

"With two of everything, please," Winona nodded. Natalie smiled again and disappeared into the back room. "Come on," said Winona, snatching up Fred's hand and dragging him in the direction of her favourite table against the window at the very back of the cafe.

"So, you come here often, then?" asked Fred as they settled into a seat either side of the table. When Winona met his eyes, she found familiar impishness glinting in their depths.

"Funny," she said dryly, and Fred grinned so widely it had to hurt. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and turning her eyes to the world outside. It had started raining in the short time they'd been inside the cafe, fat droplets of water already rolling down the length of the glass windows. "I spend a lot of time here, in the summers," she told him after a moment of easy quiet.

Fred watched her while she watched the rain. "You've never mentioned it before."

Winona shrugged. "What's to mention? I like to come here to sketch. It's not much, but it was better than spending time at my foster place. At least here, I can get food when I need it."

Fred fell quiet at the admission. It wasn't often she spoke about her past. He knew the bare essentials; knew that, before Sirius, her home life had sucked. But it was rare she went into detail. She got the feeling he'd long since come to terms with the fact he may never know the full scope of how she'd suffered in the past.

And for the sake of every Muggle who ever dared lay a hand on her, that was probably a good thing.

"You ever bring Harry here?" Fred wondered, because the last thing he wanted was for their adventurous night out to be smothered by the sombre reality of her past.

"Yeah, sometimes," she nodded, glad for the change of topic. "It's a whole train and two bus rides from his Aunt's place in Little Whinging, but he likes it here. And Natalie always sneaks him extra cake – I think she likes him more than she likes me."

Fred took a minute to scan the inside of the small cafe, eyes trailing over the murals covering the walls, all bright colours and vibrant, feathery birds. It looked like the sort of cafe you would find somewhere hot and tropical, but Winona liked that about it. The juxtaposition of the little slice of tropical paradise in the middle of dreary, wet England. Something about it was comforting, like a guiding light in the darkness.

"I can see you in here," Fred finally murmured.

Winona had to smile. "I usually sit in that corner and spend the night eating pastries and sketching," she confessed, nodding to the small alcove at the back of the room, where a small, cushioned bench sat, a quiet reprieve from the frenzy of the world outside.

Looking back at Fred, she found a curious expression on his face, and Winona tilted her head, curious.

"What is it?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and playfully bumping the tips of her toes against his shin beneath the table.

"S'just, well, I guess it sort of only just occurred to me now that you have a whole life outside of me," he admitted, looking a little stunned from the shock of it.

It was enough to make her laugh. "As wonderful as you are, my whole world doesn't revolve around you, y'know?" she said, this time catching his shin between both her feet and holding his leg in a playful embrace.

Fred smiled, but there was something a little distant to the expression, like his thoughts were elsewhere.

"What?" she asked again, nudging him again with her feet.

"Nothing," he insisted, but the look she shot him screamed her disbelief and he let out a huff. "I'm just thinking about the future," he finally confessed.

"The future?" she echoed in surprise, but before he could answer, Natalie appeared, a tray of waffles and milkshakes balanced on a steady hand.

"Here you are," her Muggle friend said brightly, depositing the two plates and glasses of vanilla milkshakes in front of them. "I added extra blueberries to yours, dear," she added with a little grin down at Fred. For once, Fred didn't seem to know what to say, so Winona took the reins.

"Thanks, Nat," she said, watching as the older woman shuffled away, looking mighty pleased with herself. "What were you saying?" she asked, cutting into her plate of towering waffles, beginning to eat with gusto.

While Mrs Weasley's meals were delicious and satisfying to the nth degree, there was something about the sugary mess of cafe food that called to Winona. Really, who could resist a good stack of fruit waffles?

Fred didn't answer her, already digging into his own plate, but Winona sensed it was driven less by hunger and more a need to keep from speaking his mind.

"Fred?" she asked, nudging him against with her foot.

He kept enthusiastically eating his waffles. "These are really good," he said around a mouthful of food, but Winona didn't miss the way his ears had gone pink.

She reluctantly stopped eating, staring at him stubbornly. She didn't like things to go unsaid, and clearly there was something on his mind. It didn't take him long to realise she wasn't going to give up and he heaved a sigh as he put down his knife and fork.

"You were saying?" Winona prompted him quietly, resting her chin on her palm. "About the future?"

Fred's brow furrowed. "Is it going to be terribly sappy if I ask where you see us after we graduate?"

Winona blinked at the unexpected question. "Well, you'll be running the shop with George – don't forget to owl that shop-owner back about the property in Diagon Alley, by the way – and I s'pose I'll move in permanently with Sirius, to get started on my career."

Fred was nodding along, but the red in his ears never went away. "'Course," he said, striving for cheerful, "but what about…y'know…_us_?"

She realised that he was talking about their relationship, and it made her eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. "Well, I don't expect there to be much of a change, really. Why would there be?"

Fred was suddenly very interested in the pile of blueberries on his plate, and Winona watched him cautiously, half waiting for him to drop some bomb that would keep her awake for weeks. But none came.

Instead, when he looked up to meet her eyes, she found uncharacteristic hesitance in his cornflower gaze. "I s'pose I just wanted to make sure we didn't have an expiration date set," he said in a rush, like that would make it easier to get out.

Winona blinked. "Why would we have an expiration date set?"

He shrugged, stuffing another forkful of waffle into his mouth, avoiding talking about it while he chewed. "We've never existed outside of school together," he admitted, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "You've got this whole life outside of school – friends and places you like to go – I only really have my family and the Burrow, and you already know all of them."

Winona tilted her head to the side, watching him shrewdly. "Why're you acting so insecure?" she asked bluntly. "This isn't like you."

Fred rolled his eyes. "Er, because I _care_ about you?"

Winona rolled her eyes right back. She plucked a blueberry from her plate and threw it at him. Fred caught it in his mouth deftly, and she smiled at the simple, familiar action. "Fred, I'm not going anywhere. And us graduating from Hogwarts isn't going to change that," she assured him. "You know that one thing that _will_ change?"

"What?"

"Once you've got a place of your own, we're gonna be shagging _so_ much more often," she told him impishly.

The red didn't fade, but now it was there for another reason entirely. He didn't look hesitant anymore, though. Now he was grinning, wide and unrestrained, the kind of grin that made her skin tingle with warning – but the good kind.

"C'mon," she huffed, tapping him again with her toes. "Eat up. The night's still young."

They finished up their waffles and Winona dug out a handful of Muggle money to pay Natalie with. "I still don't get the point of paper money," Fred murmured, snatching a tenner from her fingers and scrutinising it in the light. "What if it rips, or gets wet? Galleons and Sickles are far more reliable."

Natalie handed Winona her change, and along with it came the sort of strange look Muggles gave wizards when they were being weird in public. Winona sent Natalie her most innocent smile. "He was dropped on his head a lot as a baby," she told her dismissively, and she knew enough about his family to know it probably wasn't a lie.

Natalie just smiled fondly. "And when will I be seeing you again, little miss?" she wondered, looking between the young couple hopefully. "Same time tomorrow night?"

Winona grimaced, hating the fact that she was going to have to lie. But before she could come up with anything worthy, Fred caught her hand in his and gave Natalie a winning smile. "She's staying with my family the next few weeks before we go back to school," he told her so smoothly that Winona doubted even a Legilimens would be able to sense the half-lie. "We probably won't get a chance to come back this way."

Natalie gave a playful pout. "That's a shame," she tutted, then reached for Winona's free hand. "You be safe, you hear? And I'll see you next summer – you can update your mural," she said, nodding to the long stretch of colourful wall at the back of the cafe.

Fred's eyes went wide. "_You_ painted that?"

"Thank you, Nat," said Winona, ignoring her indignant boyfriend. "And you keep yourself safe, too," she added quickly. "Times are more dangerous than they appear."

Natalie obviously didn't have the faintest clue what she was going on about, but she smiled and nodded nonetheless, patting Winona's hand in a motherly way before shuffling over to their table to begin clearing it.

Winona gripped Fred's hand tighter and dragged him from the cafe. "Why didn't you tell me you'd painted that mural?" Fred complained as she tugged him out into the rain.

"I don't like to brag," she shrugged as she flipped up the hood of her jacket. "Where to?"

"You tell me."

The rain wasn't falling terribly hard. It was more of a light drizzle than anything else, and Winona wasn't ready to go back to her glorified prison cell just yet. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Fred smiled, nodding his head, and she gladly led him deeper into the alley where nobody would be able to see them apparate. Winona took them to a nearby park, but when they arrived it was to find the gates shut tight with a padlock.

"Oh," said Winona, disappointed. "It's closed."

"No, it isn't," said Fred airily. She tipped her face up into the rain to look at him, confused. His only answer was to just grip her hand extra tight and side-along apparate her to the other side of the locked gates. Letting out her air in a wheeze, Winona blinked the rainwater from her eyes. Fred just grinned down at her smugly. "Nothing's closed when you're a wizard."

"Fred," she stared up at him with a frown. "This is breaking and entering."

"No, it isn't," he argued smartly. "I didn't break anything at all. This is just…entering."

Winona couldn't help but laugh, lifting a hand to her face as she giggle into her palm. She heard Fred laugh too and chewed on her bottom lip, the sound making her chest flutter with uninvited warmth.

"Come on, then," he said once she'd stopped giggling, tugging impatiently at her hand. "Let's walk."

The park was one she'd been to before – another place she liked to come during her long, lonely summers to pass the time with a sketchpad. Winona led him deeper into the park. It was almost foreign in the darkness, everything seemed unfamiliar and malicious. But with the weight of Fred's hand in hers, she found it impossible to feel afraid.

The rain began to pick up slightly, to the point where it had completely soaked Fred's hair through, but before she could suggest calling it a night, he lifted his wand and cast an Umbrella Charm above their heads. The feeling of rain hitting them disappeared, and Winona burrowed into his side, the smile on her face uncontrollable.

"Any ideas who our newest DADA teacher's going to be, then?" Fred asked conversationally, the arm not holding up their umbrella wrapped around her waist, drawing her into the warmth of his side. "I figure if anyone has any clue, it'd have to be you."

The question made Winona frown. "I've been dreaming of pink, recently," she murmured, almost thoughtlessly.

"Pink? Like the colour?" he asked in confusion. "What does _that_ have to do with our newest Defence professor?"

Winona blinked into the shadowed trees to their left. "I've no idea."

For some reason she got the undeniable feeling that the newest addition to the Hogwarts staff was anything but a lighthearted choice of topic, so Winona smoothly changed the subject.

"How's the recipe coming on those Edible Dark Marks?"

"George reckons we're nearly there," said Fred enthusiastically. "I think they need a little more sugar, but he thinks that'll throw off the toad wart mixed into the gelatin."

"I still say they're in bad taste," Winona crinkled her nose. "Do you actually think anyone's going to buy something so overwhelmingly dark? Selling sweets in the shape of the Dark Mark doesn't exactly scream 'joke shop'."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, my love," said Fred grandly. Ignoring the way her heart stopped beating entirely, then started up again twice as fast at the term of endearment, she looped her arm around his waist and listened to the soothing cadence of his voice. "See, we can either let the darkness swallow us all, or we can force it out into the light. Now, personally, I'd like to see all the darkness in the world disappeared by the time we're twenty. That's not going to happen if you allow it to stay in the dark."

Winona stared into the shadows that suddenly didn't seem so dark, after all. "That was kind of beautiful," she murmured, a tiny bit awestruck.

"_You're_ kind of beautiful," he shot back.

Winona laughed. "Shut up."

They faded back into easy silence, but it didn't stay quiet for long. Winona began to think about Harry, wondering almost absently if it were a terrible idea to surprise him at his house. It was well after midnight, and he'd undoubtedly be sleeping, but who knew when she was going to get a chance to see him next? Besides, she doubted Fred would care about the rules she'd be breaking by doing it.

Mind made up, just as she opened her mouth to suggest it, there was a sound like the gushing of a violent river in her ears and her legs stopped walking, making her freeze on the path she and Fred were leisurely strolling.

"Win?" he asked, stopping with her, hand gripping her shoulder as she swayed. She vision began to flicker, and with one look up at him, they both knew what was coming. Cursing under his breath, Fred quickly scanned the park. "Come on," he said urgently, taking her hand and dragging her across the stretch of grass to a small building nearby.

As they grew closer, Winona realised it was a public bathroom. Still, this could have happened in worse places.

Once they were under its roof, safe from the rain, Winona allowed herself to collapse to her knees, momentarily blind. "Fred?" she asked, little more than a squeak. Everything had gone frighteningly cold, like the dead of winter had come six months too early.

"Win?" Fred's voice was nearby, and when she blinked her eyes she could see again. He was knelt in front of her, concern on his face. He read the urgency in her eyes and nodded. "It's okay," he promised her. "I'll keep you safe."

Relieved, Winona surged forwards to fuse their lips together, kissing him soundly in thanks before the vision took hold and she knew no more.

Somebody was groaning in pain – or was that fear? – and the cold only got worse, like the ice had sunk down to her very bones. A face, dark and cloaked, toothless mouth opened and ready to suck out a soul. Then, Harry's voice.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he bellowed, and Winona's vision was filled by blinding, silver light.

There was shouting, heavy breathing, followed by a sort of sobbing sound. Harry's face in her mind's eye, pale and full of terror. "Harry!" she cried out, like if maybe she could just let him know she was there, he might not be so afraid.

Winona came out of the vision with a gasp, and for the first time – possibly ever – she didn't need to look down at the drawing she'd made to know what the vision had been.

She threw herself to her feet with too much force, but Fred was there to catch her before she collapsed. "Win," he was saying in her ear, hands curled protectively around her shoulders. "Win! You called Harry's name. Are you all right? Is _he_ all right?"

But Winona wasn't listening. Her heart was racing and her head felt fuzzy. It was vitally important that she get back to Grimmauld Place – right fucking now. She quickly scanned the shadows through the doorway to the park, half expecting a dementor to appear from the dark and suck out their souls. And although nothing happened, her paranoia never eased.

"We have to go," she told Fred, still staring out into the dark. "Now."

Fred didn't argue – probably because he could hear how deadly serious she was in her voice. He took her hand and said nothing as Winona took a deep breath. But suddenly she wasn't confident in her ability to get them back to Grimmauld Place in one piece.

"I need you to apparate us home," she told Fred in a hushed voice, like the shadows themselves might be listening.

His brow furrowed. "You can't?"

She shook her head. "Too distracted."

"Okay," he agreed without another moment's hesitation. Gripping his hand tight, Winona inhaled just before they were sucked through that tiny straw, her organs squashed together, her eyes pressed back into her brain. Then it was over and they were standing across the street from her family's home.

The pair watched impatiently as houses eleven and thirteen were shoved aside, number twelve coming into existence between them. The lights on the top levels were out, but the ones on the bottom were on, and Winona knew with a swooping gut that they hadn't been as sneaky as they'd thought.

The others knew she and Fred had left.

Winona gulped as she and Fred made their way up the small stone steps. She pulled free her wand, waving it over the door as a sort of code – her magic telling the house's magic that she was a descendant of the Black line, asking to be let in.

The locks clacked together and there was the rattling of a chain before the door finally swung open, but neither of them made any move to enter. "How much trouble are we in?" Fred asked grimly.

"Uncertain," Winona said just as quietly. She turned to look up at him, both hands gripping him by the front of his shirt. "Kiss me."

His eyes widened at the unexpected order. "Why?"

"Because what's coming next is going to keep me very busy, and I don't know when we'll next get the chance," she told him plainly.

Fred shrugged. "Good enough for me."

His arms wound around her waist and he tugged her against him, swooping down to capture her lips in a toe-curling kiss. He was chaste but thorough, one hand splayed against the small of her back, the other sliding up her spine to tangle his fingers in her hair. Winona kissed him deeply, breathing him in, feeling the warmth of him against her.

They broke apart after a long, leisurely minute. Fred's pupils were blown wide, and his lips were a little bit red.

"Ready to face our certain doom?" she whispered, brushing away the piece of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

"Together?" he whispered back, shooting her a grin that could chase a dementor away without a wand in sight. "Always."

The door swung shut after them, and at the sound of all the locks clicking back into place, the people inside seemed to finally register that they'd returned.

The first to appear was Mrs Weasley. She materialised in the doorway, eyes a little bit bloodshot and panic clear on her face. Her shrewd eyes flickered over their forms – their wet clothes and kiss-swollen lips and intertwined fingers – and the concern very quickly spiralled into fury.

Her fiery hair began to crackle and her eyes were like daggers. "And just where in _Merlin's_ _name_ have you two been?!" she demanded shrilly, seeming to grow an extra few inches of height in her outrage. She began to thunder her way towards them, and without thinking they both took a large step backwards. As she screeched at them furiously, Winona thought she could give her grandmother's portrait a run for its money. "Do you have _any_ idea how _worried_ we've been?! We thought you'd been _kidnapped_! That you'd been _taken_ by…by _Death Eaters_! Oh, but _lo and behold_, here you are, back from a night of – of _canoodling _in the _rain_!"

Fred's eyes were open wide with understandable fear, but Winona had more important things to be worrying about than Mrs Weasley's ire. "Where's Sirius?" she demanded. "We have to call an Order meeting right away-"

"We don't _have_ to do _anything_, little miss," Mrs Weasley snarled, the term of endearment anything but endearing. It was enough to make her take a step backwards into Fred. "You have _no_ idea the danger you've put each other in! You _especially_, Winona! How could you _possibly_ think that leaving the safety of this house would be in any way a good idea?!"

"It was my idea, mum," Fred shouted over his mother's snarls. "Win's going crazy stuck in here, and you won't even give us five minutes to ourselves-"

Mrs Weasley's eyes seemed to catch fire. "You're going to be getting a lot less from now on, Fred Weasley, I assure you-"

"Molly," came a calm voice, and at once the room fell silent. Mrs Weasley reluctantly shifted aside, revealing Sirius stood in the doorway, an inscrutable expression on his bearded face. "Winnie," said her dad in a patient voice. "Are you okay?"

Throat tight, she could only nod her head. Sirius relaxed, and Winona knew it was from relief.

"You said you needed to call an emergency meeting?" he continued calmly.

"I had a vision," she told him in a hurry. His eyes darkened, then tightened further when she said, "it's bad."

Sirius watched her another long moment, considering, then turned to Mrs Weasley. "Molly, send a Patronus to Dumbledore at once. I'll have Remus alert the others."

But Mrs Weasley wasn't ready to be done scolding them. "But they left the house – they disobeyed the rules-"

"Yes," said Sirius, unruffled in comparison to Mrs Weasley's hyperactive ire. "And we'll deal with that in due time. But some things are more important." His eyes flickered back to Winona. "Is it Harry?"

Winona swallowed thickly. "Yes."

He nodded back grimly. "Then we mustn't waste time arguing."

And for as stubborn as Mrs Weasley was, even she couldn't deny the logic of it. She turned to the pair of them with steely eyes. "You're to go straight up to bed," she ordered, poking an angled finger in Fred's pale face. "No arguments."

Although the order was expected, Fred wouldn't be Fred if he didn't challenge it just a little. "But I was there for the vision – I can help!"

"You most certainly cannot," growled his mother. "Bed, now."

"She's mygirlfriend," he tried valiantly.

"Try that argument again when you're married," Mrs Weasley snapped, and both of their pale faces immediately went bright red. Knowing when he was beat – and also just a touch mortified – Fred reluctantly trudged up the stairs to the room he shared with George, pausing only to squeeze Winona's hand in farewell.

He disappeared up to the next level, and Mrs Weasley let out a loud sigh of exhaustion that made Winona feel like the most self-centred person in the world. Beyond maybe getting into trouble, she hadn't considered how their impulsive decision would effect those around them. Of course Mrs Weasley was a wreck. It had been selfish of them, and she saw that now.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs Weasley," Winona murmured, guilt gripping her like a vice.

Mrs Weasley have another heavy sigh. "I know you are, dear," she said quietly, not meeting her eyes. She did, however, flick her wand at Winona's drenched clothes, drying them without so much as a word. "I'll go send word to Dumbledore," she murmured, escaping up the stairs for privacy to send her Patronus.

This left Winona and Sirius alone in the entryway, and she very cautiously lifted her eyes to meet his. They stared at one another a few moments, neither sure what to say, Winona afraid he'd be mad. Finally it was Sirius who broke the silence.

"I'm not angry," he told her quietly, and the relief was like a physical weight off her shoulders. "I'm just as trapped here as you are. I know how you feel. I won't deny that, if it were me – if I were young and in love – I'd do the exact same thing." He smiled a little ruefully. "Remus did warn me that you were too much like me for your own good."

The comment probably should have hurt, but instead it filled Winona with warmth. She'd never had a parent to be compared to before. It was a breathtaking sort of a feeling, having an inexplicable but tangible proof of exactly where it was you'd come from.

"Come on," said Sirius, opening his arms. It said a lot about the night that Winona didn't even hesitate to slip right into his embrace. His arm curled around her shoulders as he brought her into his side. "Remus was a wreck. He'll be relieved to know you're okay."

Remus was stood in the kitchen, a small glass of what looked like brandy in his hand. He looked paler than normal, and the relief on his face when she came into sight was obvious, but considering her vision, it wasn't enough to make her smile.

"In one piece, I see," he said dryly, tone making it clear how unimpressed he was.

Sheepish, Winona ducked her head. "How'd you even know we were gone?"

"Kreacher saw you leave," explained Sirius, walking over to the kitchen beside Remus and beginning to set about making a pot of tea. "Heard him muttering about it when I came down for some water. By that point, you were long gone."

"Sorry," she apologised again. Remus nodded solemnly while Sirius just waved her off.

"She had a vision while on her little late-night excursion," he told Remus in the kind of tone she imagined old maids used to gossip in. He turned back to Winona as the kettle began to whistle. "Feel like sharing now, Pup?"

And there wasn't really any easy was to say it, so she ended up just blurting it in a hurry. "Harry's going to be attacked by dementors in Little Whinging two days from now."

Neither Sirius nor Remus spoke, staring at her as though half expecting her to burst out into laughter and declare it all a joke. When she didn't, a cloud settled over their eyes. "_Dementors_?Attacking Harry? Why?" Sirius echoed, abandoning the tea. Remus picked up the slack, going about pouring the boiled water into mugs.

"No idea," she told him plainly. "But we need to double the guard on him at once – and for the sake of my sanity, please, take Mundungus off rotation. That shifty little blighter's about as trustworthy as a hungry crocodile. One good offer and he's as good as gone."

"Dumbledore trusts him," said Remus patiently.

She levelled him with a flat stare. "Wild concept, but Dumbledore can be wrong."

Sirius looked like if he weren't so worried for his godson, he'd have laughed.

The fireplace in the back corner exploded with a burst of green flames and the Headmaster himself stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He was dressed in deep blue robes with little golden suns stitched into the fabric, but the clothes were mussed and his beard wasn't combed, like he'd dressed in a hurry. It occurred to Winona that this was the least put-together she'd ever seen him, and she had to look away. It was almost like seeing him naked.

"I came at once," he said, voice like a low rumble of thunder. His icy eyes fixed onto Winona. "What happened?"

Remus pushed a mug of steaming hot tea into Winona's hand and she mumbled a thank you as she took a seat at her usual chair at the table. Remus sat on her left, but Dumbledore and Sirius both stayed standing, as though they thought they might need to fly into action at a moment's notice.

Mrs Weasley shuffled back into the room, looking surprised to find Dumbledore already there. Clearly it hadn't taken him long from getting her message to arriving. Mrs Weasley nodded at him politely, but the Headmaster only had eyes for Winona. Mr Weasley was close behind her, dressed in a holey old flannelette pyjama set, a nightcap pulled over his balding head.

Winona waited until they were inside the room, the door sealed shut after them and _Muffliato_ cast over it to keep any of the others from eavesdropping. "Two days from now, Harry's going to be attacked by dementors in Little Whinging," she finally told him, glad the words came out steady. "He's going to have to use the Patronus Charm to fight them off."

"And does he succeed?" Dumbledore asked, the timbre of his voice low and rumbling.

Winona shut her eyes a moment, searching the aether, looking back over what little she knew. "I think so," she finally said. "But I can't be sure. But either way, he gets an official notice from the Ministry, expelling him from Hogwarts."

She opened her eyes again, turning her attention back to Dumbledore, ignoring the way Mrs Weasley gasped with horror at the unfair sentence. But Winona wasn't worried – they knew this would happen. They had forewarning. They had time to stop it.

"I was just telling the others that they need to call a full meeting – we need to make a plan. We should double the patrols on Harry and alert the Ministry of the attack before it can happen-" she cut herself off as something occurred to her.

Mrs Weasley, Remus, Sirius and Dumbledore all watched the various emotions as they passed over her face. "Winona?" asked Dumbledore cautiously, desperate to know what pieces she'd put into place.

"Trelawney and I have this theory," she began, voice sounding weak even to her own ears. "We think my visions are largely based on the decisions of those they involve. I think – I _believe_ – that I got this vision tonight because somebody just made an active _choice_ to set those dementors on Harry."

Looking up at the group around her, Winona took in their varying expressions. Remus and Mrs Weasley looked confused, but Sirius and Dumbledore seemed to have caught onto her meaning.

"What are you saying, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley thinly. "That – that somebody's orchestrating an attack on Harry? Who would do such a thing?"

Everybody in the room stared at her, and the apples of her cheeks went a hot pink as she realised the stupidity of the question. Even still, she had more of them.

"But You-Know-Who doesn't have the ability to control _dementors_," she argued in the voice of someone who didn't want to believe something, so they didn't. Winona watched her boyfriend's mother with a frown, noting that she suddenly looked very fearful indeed. "Does he?" Mrs Weasley asked in a small voice.

Everybody turned to look at Dumbledore expectantly.

"Intelligence suggests he hasn't been able to acquire full control over them – as of yet," the Headmaster told them all slowly, speaking every word with icy importance. "Currently, the dementors remain under Ministry control."

The room went silent again as they pondered exactly what this meant. Dumbledore was staring at Winona, eyes intent, and she stared back without flinching.

"Will anyone be witness to this attack?" he asked her evenly.

"There isn't going to _be_ an attack," Winona retorted without so much as a beat of hesitation. "You're going to double Harry's guard to keep it from happening; or better yet, you're going to stop torturing him and just let him come _home_ already."

Mrs Weasley looked shocked at the frosty tone Winona was taking with him, while Remus just shook his head knowingly and Sirius looked like he was already planning a party in honour of the occasion.

To Winona's disappointment, Dumbledore didn't react to her demands. "Will anyone see this attack, Winona?" he asked again, every word deliberate. "Anyone at all?"

Reluctantly, Winona searched the aether, and in a startling change to the usual, the answers were right there, waiting. With blind eyes Winona pulled her sketchbook from the bag in her lap, opening it with a flick to a fresh page and beginning a rough sketch. The gentle vision lasted maybe thirty seconds, and in that time Winona could do little more than an assortment of stick-figures. But that didn't matter, because in her mind's eye she saw the vision as clear as day. The drawing just helped her focus the power she didn't really know how else to control.

"Dudley," she finally said, blinking back to awareness. "Dudley's going to be with him."

"You mean that awful cousin of his?" gasped Mrs Weasley. "But – but he's a _Muggle._"

Dumbledore's beard twitched, and not in a smile. "This is troubling news indeed."

"Should I tell the rest of the Order to come in?" asked Remus quickly, already reaching for his wand, ready to send out an alert. But he was stopped by a slow shake of Dumbledore's head.

"No," he said, drawing the word out, making it longer than it was. "No, this information stays within this group."

Sirius stepped forwards. "But – what about the guard? Shouldn't they know-"

Dumbledore simply held up a hand, and her father went reluctantly silent. "Might this not work to our advantage?"

The others exchanged wary glances. "Work to our advantage how?" Mr Weasley was the first to speak up, hesitance saturating his voice.

But to nobody's surprise, Dumbledore gave no answer. He turned to look directly at Sirius, blue eyes a pair of unfeeling sapphires – pretty, but cold and hard all the same. "We're going to let events happen as they will," he declared. "Now that we have warning, I can be ready to force the Ministry into giving Harry a trial, which will buy me several minutes of unhindered access to the Minister-"

"So you're just going to let Harry play into a trap?" Winona snapped, uncaring as she interrupted the Headmaster. "He's not a chess piece, Dumbledore. He's not a pawn."

Dumbledore turned his eyes to her, and for the first time that night it was like he was seeing her as more than just the secret weapon she'd been acting as all this time. "Yes, he is," said Dumbledore plainly. "As am I; and as are you, and Sirius, and everybody else in this house. We're all pawns in a game of chess. That's what this war is, Winona. It's one giant chess game."

It was certainly a dark way to view the world, and Winona wasn't so sure she agreed.

"Will Harry be safe?" asked Sirius, the most important question of them all.

"Harry's faced dementors before, as I'm sure you well remember, Sirius," said Dumbledore calmly. "In the past, he's fought dozens. Two should hardly pose a challenge."

It was callous and cruel, and Winona felt him make another dent in the crater of her lessening respect for him.

"Yes, physically he'll be fine," Winona said, the ice in her voice matching his eyes. "But what about emotionally? He shouldn't _have_ to face dementors _at all_."

Dumbledore gave a small sigh, and the others' eyes flickered between them like they were on opposite ends of a tennis court. "We're all doing things we shouldn't have to do; but the fact of the matter is, we're going to have to do them."

Winona's ire didn't ease, and she glared at Dumbledore with all the hate her small stature could conjure. Dumbledore seemed to give a little.

"Winona, I care for your cousin deeply," he told her, and she could tell that that, at the least, wasn't a lie. "If I could spare him the world's pain, I would in a heartbeat. But some fights have to be fought alone."

"But we can stop _this_ one from happening," she argued. "Why else would I get the vision?"

"To prepare us. Now we know it's coming."

"And if it all goes wrong?" she demanded hotly. "If we fail and he ends up getting kicked out of school?"

This time when Dumbledore's lips twitched, it _was_ with a smile. "Being Headmaster comes with a great deal of power over these matters," he told her calmly. "Harry will not be getting expelled from Hogwarts; this year or any other."

And it wasn't much, but Winona would take what little comfort she could get. "Let me go be with him."

She wasn't usually one to beg, but if it meant keeping Harry safe, she'd grovel on her knees all day long. Dumbledore looked down at her curiously.

"I'll be with him – I'll be a witness you can actually _use_ against the Wizengamot." Dumbledore was already shaking his head, but Winona wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I can't even perform the Patronus Charm – I never learned how – so it's not like I could keep him from casting it!"

"We've discussed this, Winona," said Mrs Weasley sternly. "No matter how much you want to be there for Harry – you simply can't leave the house. Especially after tonight! The last thing you've earned are special privileges."

Winona glowered at Mrs Weasley for the first time since she'd met her, all those years ago. "I'm not asking for special privileges," she said, the words hard and uncompromising as steel, "I'm asking to be able to go comfort my cousin in his time of need. Or have you all forgotten Cedric Diggory so quickly?"

Everyone, bar Sirius and Dumbledore, flinched at the mention of Cedric's name and the callous way she threw it in their faces. She felt bad, but she had a point to make.

"Harry is suffering. He can't sleep – he barely eats. Thanks to all of you _adults_ and your stupid _rules_, he feels completely and utterly alone," she listed hotly. "I'm not asking for this because I want another chance to sneak out and snog my boyfriend," she continued snidely, seeing she held their attention. "I'm asking this for _Harry's_ sake. Y'know, the innocent kid stuck at the centre of this fucking _war _who you all seem to have conveniently _forgotten_ about?"

She was breathing heavily by the time she was done, heart hammering in her chest, eyes wild with passion. A large hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "That's enough, Pup," said Sirius quietly, but he didn't sound angry, or disappointed. If anything, he sounded…proud.

Dumbledore's expression was inscrutable. He stared at her for at least a full minute, expression giving nothing away. The others in the room look between them like they were watching a game of tug of war. Or perhaps it was more a battle of wills.

Finally, just when Winona was about to give up and storm out dramatically like the teenager she was, Dumbledore spoke.

"Very well."

There was a beat of confused quiet. Nobody had been expecting that; not even Winona. She stared at him in shock that quickly melted into suspicion.

"But – you can't mean to let Winona go _out_," whispered Mrs Weasley.

Remus seemed to agree. "Albus, you're the one always telling us how important she is. If she gets caught-"

"Winona's plan is a strong one," said Dumbledore without letting Remus finish. "Somebody needs to bare witness to the attack once it goes to the Wizengamot. It will give you a chance to speak with the Minister, too," he added to Winona. "I doubt anything will make him see reason at this point, but True Seers are regarded with the utmost respect by the Ministry. It will be a perfect opportunity to testify to our cause."

And Winona wanted no part in Dumbledore's plan. She didn't want any of this, didn't want to be one of the many pawns in his stupid game of chess. But if it got her out of this place and one step closer to Harry, then she'd swallow back the unpleasantness and do whatever she had to in order to keep her cousin safe.

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**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this one. Leave a review and let me know your thoughts – I'm really interested to hear what you think. And we're getting close to 1000 reviews! The day we hit it I'm probably going to weep. I do what I do because I love it, but knowing so many of you love my work too makes my heart feel so full. You're all the best, thank you! 3 **


	53. I have no interest in glory

**A/N: Hey guys, just letting you know that this one sticks a little closer to canon than usual, but there's still nuggets that it's worth reading for! An essential chapter in the story, menial though it may be. See you at the bottom! **

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The two days following passed at what felt like a glacial pace. Dumbledore had told her under no circumstances to mention any of his plan to the twins or anyone else in the house. The people in the room that night – plus a select few in the Order – were the only ones permitted to know.

It would have taken Winona a lot to agree had the threat of death-by-unbreakable-vow not hovered dangerously over her neck. The twins knew something was up, but they didn't press her, too afraid it would lead to consequences none of them could ever take back. However, on the afternoon of the attack, the two of them found Winona in her room, pulling on a pair of sneakers.

"Going somewhere?" Fred asked as he gracelessly threw himself onto the bed at her side. George was more refined, leaning against the wall and watching them with a smirk. "Nice trip up to the attic, perhaps?"

"I'm going out, actually," Winona told them, keeping her eyes on her laces as she tied them.

"Out?" asked Fred, surprise colouring his voice. "You mean, _out_ out?"

"Order business," she shrugged.

"They have you on active missions now?" George asked. "That's wicked – you're like a proper Auror. You'll be getting all the glory soon, mark my words."

Winona rolled her eyes. "I have no interest in glory."

"Come on," goaded Fred. "Where're you off to?"

Winona just made a zipping motion across her lips, forcing out a smirk.

"Fine," huffed George. "Keep your secrets. But if you come back to find we've chopped all your pencils in half in retaliation, don't be surprised."

She rolled her eyes again. "I've gotta go," she told them. "I'm expected."

"By who?"

Winona smirked. "It's almost like you _want_ me to die," she teased, and George grimaced at the joking implication. She leant down to press a chaste kiss to Fred's lips. "Don't wait up."

"Oh, don't worry about us," said Fred with a theatrical stretch. "We'll just use the extra space up here in your room to make up a new batch of order forms. And if you come back to realise we're still awake – well, that'll have nothing to do with you, now will it?"

Unable to help herself, Winona laughed. She kissed him once more, memorising the taste of his lips – like fruit, from their lunch that afternoon – and the way the tiniest hint of stubble scraped against her soft skin.

"I'll see you soon," she told them, climbing to her feet.

But George stepped in front of the doorway, a frown on his face. "Promise you'll be safe?" he asked hopefully.

She reached up, patting him on the cheek affectionately. "Where's the fun in that?"

Sirius and Remus were waiting for her downstairs, stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wary looks on their faces. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Sirius asked the moment she appeared. "You can still decide to stay here – where it's safe."

"I'm going," she said, endlessly stubborn – and they both knew it was a trait she'd gotten from him.

"Yeah," Sirius smiled wryly. "Thought as much. You've definitely got it?"

Winona patted the pocket where she'd stashed the artefact he'd lent her, and he smiled gladly.

Mrs Weasley wasn't there to see her off. Things between the two of them had been strained since the two days prior. Winona was avoiding approaching her, afraid the Weasley matriarch was angry with her. Winona _had_ sort of shouted at her. She felt almost embarrassed by her behaviour. Fred assured her multiple times that his mother was just cooling off, that she'd be fine in a few days. Winona just hoped to Merlin he was right.

Before she could leave, Remus held up a small packet of something. "You're facing dementors," he reminded her. "You're going to need this."

Taking it from his fingers, she flipped it over to reveal it to be a small bar of milk chocolate. "Thanks, Moony," she said warmly. He looked a little awkward at her gratitude, smiling and shuffling to give her room to head for the door. "See you at pick up, I s'pose."

Sirius pulled her into a tight hug before she could leave. "Remember, if anything goes wrong, you Apparate a minimum of _three_ times to throw anyone off your trail, then come straight back here to go back into hiding."

"I know," she assured him, squeezed him back firmly before carefully extracting herself from his arms.

"Give Harry my best," he added.

"He'll be here by tonight."

"Give them to him anyway."

And with that Winona was given the all-clear to leave the house. She tentatively stepped onto the road, leaving the protective bubble that 12 Grimmauld Place provided. She didn't feel safe like she had the other night with Fred. This time she just felt alone and completely exposed to all the dangers in the big bad outside world.

Reaching the other side of the street, she turned back to Grimmauld Place, finding it disappeared back into non-existence. It gave her a tiny degree of comfort. Most of her family was safe; now she only had Harry to worry about.

She shut her eyes and thought of the place she'd seen the attack happen in her vision. It took a few minutes of calm deliberation before finally she felt ready to Apparate. Taking a deep breath in, Winona gripped her wand tightly and twisted on the spot.

She reappeared in the alleyway from her vision, finding that – for once in her life – she was actually right on time.

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry was snarling at the whale of a boy that was Dudley, the tip of his wand pressed threateningly against his cousin's heart. "D'you understand me?"

Dudley gave a whimper of fright. "Point that thing somewhere else!"

"I said, do you understand me?"

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM–"

"Oi!" Winona shouted over the top of the two squabbling boys. So involved in their fight, neither had even heard the telltale _pop_ as she'd materialised in the alleyway beside them. Dudley made another whimpering noise while Harry just turned to gape at her.

"Winnie?" he asked, blinking rapidly, as if it all might have been some strangely advanced optical illusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I wish I could say this was a social call, Cuz," she said, shooting Dudley a grin that was edged with molten steel. "But unfortunately, you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle. I'm here to help you out of it."

Harry opened his mouth – probably to ask what the hell she was talking about – when the cold fell over them like a blanket made of ice and the starry evening sky went completely black.

"Oh no," whispered Harry.

"Oh yeah," Winona whispered back, holding out her wand, ready to use it. She might not be able to produce a Patronus Charm, but if they thought she'd go down easy, these cloaked bastards had another thing coming.

"W-what are you d-doing?" stammered Dudley, cowering against the wall behind them. "St-stop it!"

"We're not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!" Harry hissed.

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind!"

"I said shut up!" Harry turned to Winona, and even though the world around them was black, she was almost sure she could see his panicked expression from where she was stood. "They can't be here – in Little Whinging?"

"Long story," she whispered back. "I don't even have any answers. Also never produced a Patronus Charm before, so there's that."

"Then why are you even here?" asked Harry, a tad scathing, but it was a stressful situation, so she didn't blame him.

Instead she nudged him, muttering, "Lumos," just so he could see the grin on her face. "You thought I was gonna let you go through this alone?" she asked lightly, as if they weren't in a sea of inky black with the worst creatures on the face of the earth closing in, making the air so cold it burned to breathe. "As if."

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley was crying from behind them. "W-where are you? What are you d-do–?"

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed again.

But Dudley wasn't calm enough to listen, and Winona knew he was only going to get more and more hysterical once the dementors arrived. Best she could do was to flick her wand at the boy quivering on the pavement behind them. A small piece of tape materialised over his mouth, and though he tried to shout through it, he couldn't. When he tried to rip it off with his hands, it wouldn't budge.

"You can undo that, right?" Harry asked dryly.

"I could, but why ever would I?"

But before he could retort, the alleyway was filled with a series of sounds. Breathing – long, hoarse, rattling inhales of air. Winona cursed and flicked off her wandlight, as if it might help hide them from the dementors. But she knew it was pointless. They already knew they were there.

There was a loud noise – different to the ones the dementors were making as they approached – and Harry let out a groan of pain. Against her better judgement she turned the light back on, finding Harry sprawled on the concrete, nursing his aching head.

"You little prick!" Winona snarled at Dudley, who was waddling away at a pathetic pace, trying to escape the dementors – and in his confusion, running straight at them.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK!" Harry shouted at him. Winona picked up his wand and handed it to him, watching as Harry scrambled to his feet. "YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

But it was too late – it had caught him. Dudley's cries fell silent, and despite the fact Winona knew Harry couldn't stand his cousin on the best of days, she still sensed his panic as he came close to losing Dudley.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!" Harry bellowed at him while Winona spun on her heel and threw a Stinging Hex at the dementor behind Harry. It barely flinched under the attack, and she began to wonder if she should have asked Lupin for Patronus lessons before she'd attempted this fool's errand.

"Harry, now!" she screamed at her cousin.

"_Expecto patronum_!" he tried to shout, but it had virtually no effect, little more than a wisp of silvery vapour erupting from the tip of his wand.

Winona sent a Stunning Spell at the dementor, throwing such force into it that it seemed to almost pause, as if surprised by the strength of the attack.

"Again, Harry!" she encouraged him, throwing another Stinging Hex for good measure.

A pair of decrepit hands slid from the sleeves of the derelict cloak, and Harry made a sound like a whimper. "_Expecto patronum_!" he tried again, but again, it did little to work.

"Harry, you can _do_ this!" Winona shouted as the dementor's hands came towards him, as if preparing to wring the life from his neck. "Come on, Harry! Think of something _happy_!"

And then, "_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

An enormous silver stag leapt from Harry's wand; and Winona was stunned by the sight of it. She wasn't even sure she'd ever seen a Patronus before, and certainly not one as large as Harry's. The stag was beautiful, glittering with silvery light as it charged the closest dementor. The foul thing flew away, defeated just like that.

"THIS WAY!" Harry bellowed, and it took Winona a moment to realise he was talking to the stag. "GET IT!"

The stag did as it was told, chasing after the final Patronus with a vengeance. It disappeared into the night and the lights in the street reappeared, the stars and moon seeming to materialise above their heads. Once the dementor was gone, Winona and Harry were left in a ringing silence, and slowly they turned to look at one another.

Winona swept forwards first, gathering her cousin up in a hug. Harry clutched her tightly, and she felt the way he was trembling in her arms. "Here," she said, pulling away and fishing Remus' chocolate from her pocket. "This'll help."

Harry stared down at the chocolate uncomprehendingly for a long few moments. "You knew," he finally said, the two words a heated accusation that cut right to Winona's heart.

And since she could never be anything but honest with him, she nodded her head. "I knew."

Dudley was crying from where he was folded like an inflated lawn chair on the pavement. The pair looked down at him in the same moment.

"Don't suppose you wanna take point on this one?" she asked hopefully. Harry shot her a look thick with disdain, and Winona sighed acceptingly. She snapped off a corner of the chocolate, then handed the bar to Harry, plopping the food in her mouth. "How're you doing, Dudley?" she asked as cheerfully as she was able, her voice still wobbling some.

Dudley just kept sobbing, and Winona reluctantly crouched down beside him.

"Look, at least you're alive," she told him in her best attempt at a comforting voice. She was going to try patting him on the back, but saw his shirt was soaked through with sweat and changed her mind. "Could be worse; they could've sucked out your soul."

That only made Dudley cry harder, and in retrospect, maybe it hadn't been the best thing to say.

Winona realised he still had the tape on his mouth and quickly cast the counter-spell. It dissolved into nothing, leaving his mouth free, and the muffled sobs became louder at once.

"Winnie – I don't understand," Harry was panting from behind her. "What's happening? Why're you here?"

Despite the fact that every bone in her body was screaming to spill everything at once, Winona knew that, for her own sake, she needed to choose her words carefully. "Had a vision; here I am," she said, choosing to keep things lighthearted despite the small elephant blubbering on the footpath between them.

"I thought you couldn't leave…wherever you were?" he asked, frustrated.

"I couldn't," she agreed. "But I managed to strike up a deal."

"What deal? With who?"

There were footsteps on the ground behind them, and Harry whipped around with a gasp, a defensive curse sitting ready on his lips. "Harry!" Winona shouted, knowing who it was.

Arabella Figg appeared in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Harry rushed to hide his wand. "Don't put it away, idiot boy!" she rasped, glancing furtively to each end of the alley. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to _kill_ Mundungus Fletcher!"

"Took you long enough, Mrs Figg," said Winona, a tad snide, but she thought it was warranted.

"This body isn't quite as young as yours, Winona," Mrs Figg sniped back as she shuffled closer. "It's a miracle I'm here at all."

Winona rolled her eyes, ignoring the way Harry was glancing between them like they were speaking in a language only he couldn't understand. "What?" he finally asked, clueless about how he was supposed to react. But there wasn't any time to sit down and answer the whole slew of questions Winona knew to be boiling beneath his tongue.

"Where's Mundungus?" she asked Mrs Figg.

"He left!" the batty old lady squawked.

"Left?" Winona echoed, ire beginning to burn in her blood. "But it was his shift!"

"Insisted on going to meet someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went – not to mention what _you'd_ do to him if you found out! Now look! Dementors!"

Winona turned to scan the street. She knew none would be coming back tonight, but that didn't do anything to help ease the horrible sense that they were being watched. "We need to get them inside," she told Mrs Figg sternly.

"No – wait – you two know each other?" Harry demanded, looking like someone had stuck a fork in his ear and scrambled his brains. "You're a _witch_?"

Mrs Figg made a scoffing noise. "I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I'd warned him–"

"This Mundungus has been following me?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep up. "Hang on – it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbles under a car just in case, and Mr Tibbles came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone – and now – oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? And _you_!"

She whirled around on Winona, who broke her stare with a nearby alcove and blinked at Mrs Figg in surprise.

"Dumbledore's going to be awfully cross with you – sneaking out – twice in one week! It's madness! Don't you know the price you have on your head? You stubborn, _foolish_ girl."

"It's fine," Winona assured her. "Dumbledore knows I'm here."

Harry turned to stare at her. "He does?"

"Let's get Dudley home before he passes out and I have to levitate him back to his house," she murmured, an excuse to keep him from being able to ask any more questions she couldn't answer. This was going to be a _lot_ harder than she'd thought it would be.

"You know Dumbledore?" asked Harry, staring at Mrs Figg, just desperate for _some_ answers, _any_ answers.

Mrs Figg snorted. "Of _course_ I know Dumbledore, who _doesn't_ know Dumbledore? We need to go, Winona," she added, glancing down the street furtively. "Who knows if they're bold enough to come back?"

She tried hefting up Dudley, but the useless lump was too out of it to move. Harry stooped down and Winona went with him, the pair of the painstakingly hauling the blubbery git to his feet. Once he was upright it became clear he wouldn't stay that way alone, so Winona sighed reluctantly and wrapped an arm around his bulbous waist, helping Harry drag him in the direction of Privet Drive.

"Keep your wands out," Mrs Figg told them as they entered Wisteria Walk. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the _Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery_… This was _exactly_ what Dumbledore was afraid of – what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr Prentice… Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?" she snapped at Harry, who quickly lifted his wand again, even despite the way his hand shook.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mrs Figg?" Harry asked her intently, panting with the effort to keep walking while supporting the full weight of Dudley between them. "All those times I came round your house – why didn't you say anything?"

A shadow crossed Mrs Figg's face, and Winona looked away guiltily. "Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know … but, oh my word," she whispered, wringing her hands again, "when Dumbledore hears about this – how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight – where is he? Winona, you're going to have to let Dumbledore know what's happened."

"I can't leave Harry's side," Winona confessed. "It's part of my deal for freedom. I'm stuck with him until the collection later tonight."

"Collection?" echoed Harry.

"You'll see," Winona promised him, stomach twisting at the hurt on his face as he looked away.

"I've got an owl, you can borrow her," he told Mrs Figg quickly.

Mrs Figg tutted loudly, glancing at a house on the right like she didn't trust more dementors not to come flying out of the open window on the second floor. "Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible. The Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words-"

"But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic – they're going to be more worried about what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?"

Mrs Figg glanced to Winona in the same moment Winona glanced to her, and she knew they were both thinking of everything the Prophet had been saying lately, telling them all exactly where Fudge's priorities lay.

"Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid – MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Mundungus had appeared with a crack on the street before them. He teetered where he stood, and he smelt so strongly of alcohol that Winona's patience shattered into a million tiny little pieces. With a flick of her wand and a muttered spell, Mundungus was bent over, holding his hands to his face in an attempt to soothe the burn of the boils that had appeared.

"Wha' the 'ell?!" he shouted.

"Winona," tutted Mrs Figg, but Winona thought she didn't look particularly scolding at all.

"Winona?!" echoed Mundungus, shooting upright to pin Winona with a furious sneer. "Wha' in Merlin's name d'you think you're doin'? This you finally gettin' me back for _accidentally_ taking your dad's silverware? I told you, I got it mixed up with me own!"

He paused.

"Wait, what're you doing out of Headquarters?" he frowned deeply, unsure what to make of the sight before him. "Figgy? What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover!" cried Mrs Figg with a fiery fury that made Winona smirk. "Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!"

"Dementors?" Mundungus echoed dumbly, as if briefly forgetting what the word meant. "Dementors, here?"

"Yes, _here_, you worthless pile of bat droppings!" Mrs Figg all but shrieked into his face, which was still covered in painful-looking boils that Winona had no intentions of reversing. "Dementors attacking the boy on _your_ watch!"

"Blimey," said Mundungus as if the rest of the English language suddenly escaped him. "Blimey…"

Mrs Figg began beating Mundungus with a handbag full of cat food, and Winona took a sick pleasure in watching him yelp in pain under the attack.

"Ouch – gerroff – gerroff, you mad old bat!" shouted Mundungus. "Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"

"Yes–they– have!" yelled Mrs Figg, beating the blighter within an inch of his life. "And–it–had–better–be–you–and–you–can–tell– him–why–you–weren't–there–to–help!"

"Keep your 'airnet on!" muttered Mundungus, cowering away from her like she were You-Know-Who himself. "I'm going, I'm going!"

He paused, glancing at Winona, a sly look on his face.

"Guess this means you've been caught sneaking out twice in one week, eh, doll-face?" he asked, probably thinking her disobedience overshadowed his own.

"Think again, dipshit," she spat venomously. "At least I was _here._"

He made a rude gesture back and Mrs Figg swung her bag full of heavy cans at his boil-covered face. But Mundungus Disapparated before it could land, and little Mrs Figg would have toppled to the ground if Winona hadn't caught her in time.

"I hope Dumbledore murders him!" Mrs Figg hissed as she straightened up. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"

Winona and Harry heaved up Dudley once more and kept on walking.

"I'll take you to the door. Just in case there are more of them around…" muttered Mrs Figg as they turned onto Harry's street. "Oh my word, what a catastrophe…and you had to fight them off yourself…and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs… Well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, I suppose…but the cat's among the pixies now…"

"It all works out," Winona assured her.

"Well, yes…I suppose that's why you're here, dear," said Mrs Figg mildly. Winona tried to smile, but it felt wooden and insincere.

"So," panted Harry as they dragged a limp, groaning Dudley down the long road of Privet Drive, "Dumbledore's been having me followed?"

He glanced to the side and Winona caught his stare. He looked hurt, and she knew he must have been. She knew, were their roles reversed, she'd be more than a little bit pissed to be kept so out of the loop.

"Of course he has," tutted Mrs Figg impatiently, before Winona could answer him herself. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent. Right … get inside and stay there," she ordered Harry as they came to a stop in front of number four. "Winona, you stick to him like _glue_," she added, vaguely threatening in her delivery. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Harry, struggling to stay upright under Dudley's considerable weight. Winona took a bit more of it, her arms beginning to ache from the strain.

"I'm going straight home," said Mrs Figg shortly. "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house – both of you. Goodnight."

With that she turned on her heel and marched away as quickly as her little legs could carry her, ridiculous slippers flopping loudly against the pavement.

Harry turned immediately to his cousin. "What's going on? Why haven't I heard anything? Is Dumbledore-?"

"Not now," Winona whispered, casting the street a glance. It looked empty, and for all she knew, it was. But she couldn't help feeling the weight of eyes pressing to them, exposed as they were. "Figg's right. We need to get inside."

"But-"

"Harry," said Winona, more stern than he'd ever heard her. With a reluctant nod, he began to lead the way up the garden path to the door.

"You'd better put that away," said Harry, nodding to her wand as he stuffed his own back into the waistband of his jeans. "Aunt Petunia will have a fit if she sees it."

Winona scoffed. "As if this situation could possibly get any worse from here."

But even as she said it, she slipped her wand back into her the top knot she'd hastily made in her hair earlier that afternoon. With any luck, the Muggles would mistake it for a regular chopstick and they could go about their day.

Once Winona's wand was strategically hidden, Harry rang the doorbell. Petunia took her sweet time answering the door, and by the time she pulled it open, Dudley was looking significantly more green than he had before.

"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite – quite… Diddy, what's the matter?" Petunia asked shrilly, going frightfully pale as Dudley swayed where he stood, then opened his mouth and threw up all of over the doormat. "DIDDY!" Petunia screeched, and Winona glanced over her shoulder, paranoid. The very last thing they needed was to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves. "Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"

Vernon waddled into the room, face nearly purple, moustache quivering, and together with his wife he helped his son over the threshold. They were so worried about Dudley that neither of them seemed to notice either of the cousins stood in the doorway behind him. Winona watched as Harry slipped inside just as Vernon slammed the door shut, stranding her outside.

Winona certainly wasn't going to knock to be let in – as if they'd invite her inside anyway – so Winona gripped her wand in her hand and twisted on the spot. She reappeared on the other side of the door, stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Petunia let out a shrill screech that sounded like the noise an exotic bird might make while laying an egg. Vernon flinched back into the wall with enough force to leave a small crater in the tasteless wallpaper.

"What – I – who do…?" Vernon stuttered, stunned by her nerve, apparating inside his own house. "Just who in the hell do you think you are?" he finally thundered.

"The girl who just helped save your son's life," she replied without hesitation. She hadn't actually done a whole lot towards saving Dudley – but at least she'd _been_ there.

Vernon went an even more concerning shade of purple – he now looked rather like a swollen eggplant – and jabbed a finger in her direction, beady eyes flickering between the pair of them. Before he could let whatever insults or threats he was holding back fly, Dudley gave a little whimper and his fury wavered.

He followed his wife down the hall, taking Dudley into the kitchen. Around his humungous middle, Winona could see Petunia ushering her trembling son into a chair. Vernon looked over his shoulder at the pair of them, hatred in his eyes. "Come here," he ordered them sharply.

Winona turned to look at Harry in the same moment he turned to look at her. Winona sighed deeply. "Shall we?" she asked, resigned.

"After you," said Harry, and it was nearly enough to make her smile. Nearly.

"What in the _hell_ have you _freaks_ done to my son?" he snarled once they were all in the kitchen. After the night they'd had, the whole room seemed unnatural – too bright, too clean – but Vernon gave them no time to acclimate.

"We didn't do anything," Harry insisted. Vernon's ugly snarl told Winona that he didn't believe him for a moment.

"What did they do to you, Diddy?" Petunia asked, voice trembling with fear as she sponged sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it – was it _you-know-what_, darling? Did they use –their _things_?"

Slowly, eyes glassy and distant, the little shit Dudley just nodded.

"But I didn't!" cried Harry as Petunia let out a wail and Vernon raised his fists.

"We didn't touch your son!" Winona insisted. "We were trying to save him!"

"Likely story," snarled Vernon.

Having had just about enough, Winona whipped out her wand. Vernon was wise to take a large step backwards, bumping into a chair, its legs scraping against the tiles with a screech. "If we wanted to hurt Dudley, he'd be hurt," she told Vernon, her voice like serrated steel. "Just like if we wanted to hurt you, we could."

"Are you _threatening_ me?!" Vernon bellowed, fists clenched tight, fury making his eyes water.

Winona opened her mouth to spout a retort that was neither kind nor demure, but Harry threw out an arm before she could speak. "Uncle Vernon, we didn't hurt him, I swear-" he argued, tapping sternly at Winona's wand, a silent order to put it away.

But before he could explain what had happened with the Dementors, there came the familiar, sharp screech of an owl, and they all turned in time to see a tawny owl swoop through the open kitchen window. It didn't land anywhere, soaring across the room to drop a letter at Harry's feet, then leaving as suddenly as it had arrived.

"OWLS!" thundered Vernon, shuffling angrily across the room to slam the window shut with enough force to shudder the frame. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!"

Harry wasn't listening, having already picked up the letter, tearing it open. The envelope fluttered to the floor, but Winona plucked it from the air, glancing at the Ministry's broken wax seal on the back.

"AND YOU! IF YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP HERE AND WREAK HAVOC IN OUR HOUSE, YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN," Vernon was roaring at Winona, purple in his face deepening. Winona wondered if he was going to try and hit her – she kind of hoped he would, just to give her a reason to fight back.

She felt Harry go completely still beside her and successfully turned out Vernon's senseless ire. She turned to her cousin, leaning over his shoulder to read what the letter said.

Perfunctory and detached, the letter told him in no uncertain terms that this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery would result in his expulsion from Hogwarts, and that Ministry representatives would be arriving shortly to destroy his wand. It also mentioned that, this being his second infraction, his presence was required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 in the morning on the twelfth of August.

"It's okay, Harry," Winona told him, looking into her cousin's shellshocked face. "We're going to sort it."

But Harry didn't appear to be listening. He stared down at the piece of paper as if he'd suddenly lost the ability to read, like it made zero sense to his addled brain. Winona put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, trying to force him to feel her support. He couldn't think he was alone. He couldn't think there was no hope.

Vernon was still screaming, but the words had all blurred together and Winona had long since stopped listening. Dudley had started retching again, and Winona wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Then, abruptly, Harry gripped his wand tight and turned to leave. "Where d'you think you're going?" Vernon bellowed furiously. When Harry didn't reply, he pounded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"

"Get out of the way," said Harry quietly. Winona knew better than most that the quietest rage was the most deadly. She worried now for her cousin – she'd seen this happening in her vision, but now that she was here, seeing the despair in Harry's eyes, she suddenly knew the true depth of her cousin's pain.

Vernon leaned down to snarl in his nephew's face. "NO! You're going to stay here and explain how my son–"

Harry blinked at him, utterly calm. "If you don't get out of the way, I'm going to jinx you," he warned Vernon.

"Harry," said Winona reproachfully, gripping her cousin by the elbow. He ignored her, glowering at Vernon with hatred.

"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"

"The madhouse has chucked me out," argued Harry. "So I can do whatever I like. You've got three seconds. One–two–"

A sudden CRACK filled the kitchen. Petunia screeched again and Vernon ducked as if expecting an attack. But it wasn't an attack. It was just a barn owl, blinking up at them through the closed kitchen window.

Harry didn't hesitate to leap for the owl, hastily untying the note from its leg before unravelling it and staring down at its contents.

Winona peeked over his shoulder once more to see what it said – because she was terminally nosy. It was written in an unfamiliar scrawl, the ink smeared and blotchy, done by a hurried hand.

_Harry–_

_Dumbledore's at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out now. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. DO NOT LEAVE WINONA'S SIDE._

_Arthur Weasley_

Harry stared down at it, still ignoring his uncle's tirade from across the room. Winona did the same. "I know you're panicking," said Winona quietly, the words for Harry alone. He looked up from the letter, eyes wide like the owl it had arrived with. "But did you really think I wouldn't have this whole thing under control?"

Harry stared at her a minute, Vernon's roars now more of a white noise; existing in the background, easy to ignore. "I'm not going to get expelled?" he asked, and she watched as a spark of hope reignited in his emerald eyes.

"Do you trust me?" she asked instead. Harry didn't hesitate to nod his head, and she found herself relieved. Somehow she hadn't been sure of his answer until that moment. "Then trust me, and do as we say."

Swallowing, Harry folded the letter back up and stuffed it absentmindedly into his pocket. "Right," he said, looking up at his aunt and uncle, carefully detached, "I've changed my mind, I'm staying."

He then sat down calmly at the kitchen table, hands folded on the tabletop as if waiting for the inquisition to begin. Taking his lead, Winona sat down on his left.

Vernon seemed to sense he was finally going to get some answers, and he stopped shouting nonsense long enough to put together a relevant question. "What's _she_ doing here?" he spat, moustache twitching irritably as his beady eyes narrowed at Winona.

"She's my family; she came to visit," said Harry tonelessly.

"Right as you attacked my son?! Awfully convenient," snarled Vernon.

"Actually, I can see the future," Winona informed him, not in the mood to pull punches. If Vernon wanted answers, he was sure as shit going to get them. "I saw this happening and came to be of some help."

Vernon looked rather blindsided by the whole 'Seer' thing, but he moved on easily enough. "Well it didn't do any good, did it?!" he snarled, gesturing to Dudley who was being cradled close by Petunia. She kept smoothing a hand down his oily hair, and Winona grimaced again in disgust. "Look at him! He's been driven barmy!"

"Actually, it wasn't _your_ _son_ I came to help," Winona argued without missing a beat, glancing pointedly at Harry. The purple in Vernon's face, which had slowly begun to recede, came back with a vengeance.

"So, you admit it!" he cried. "You're his accomplice!"

Winona didn't deign to respond to such a theory, and she turned to look at Harry instead. He looked rather shaken, still, but much less pale than he had reading that first letter.

"And who are all these ruddy owls from, exactly?" Vernon growled, sensing he wasn't going to be getting any more on the subject of Winona.

"The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling me," said Harry, much more calm than Winona had expected. Then again, hadn't he already proved time and time again how good he was under pressure? "The second one was from my friend Ron's dad, who works at the Ministry of Magic."

"Ministry of Magic?" echoed Vernon with a sneer. "People like you in government? Oh, this explains everything, _everything –_ no wonder the country's going to the dogs…" When neither of them reacted, he changed topics. "And why have you been expelled?"

Harry's mouth pulled down at the corner. "Because I did magic."

"AHA!" Vernon roared, slamming his fist down on top of the fridge. "So you admit it! What did you do to Dudley?"

Harry sat up straighter in his seat. "Nothing," he insisted. "That wasn't me – did you hear that?" he asked suddenly, craning his head to look out the window. Winona gripped her wand. She didn't imagine there was anybody out there, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Harry tried to stand up, but Winona tugged him back down into his chair. "You stay and answer your delightful family's questions," she told him quickly. "I'll check it out."

"NO! I will _not_ have _that _in my house!" Vernon snarled at the sight of her wand.

Winona's lip curled back in disgust. "Shut up, Vernon, or I'll turn you into a toad," she threatened him, leaving him gaping at her, resembling an eggplant once again. She tapped Harry companionably on the shoulder, then made her way to the sliding door that led out into a modest, suburban backyard.

Winona could hear the argument still going on inside from her place out on the grass, and she kept half her attention on it, the other half scanning the shadows. She knew the plan, but had to remind herself of why she was here at all. Harry didn't need to go through this alone; he deserved someone to share the burden with him.

She supposed he was on edge, hearing things that weren't there, but she muttered, "Lumos," and shined the light into the shadows anyway. It was clear – the backyard was empty and barren. There wasn't so much as a garden gnome in sight.

She was here to stand witness – so when the Ministry tried to persecute her her cousin, she could stop them from doing so without cause. Harry would be protected from the Ministry, even if she was the only thing standing in their way.

The clean air of the night helped ease her swirling mind, and it was with a clearer head that Winona stepped back into the house. "Horrible," Dudley was croaking, voice smaller than Winona had ever heard it. "Cold. Really cold."

"That's dementors for you," she drawled, shutting the sliding door again and retaking her seat beside harry.

Vernon shushed her like she'd cursed him, and she just barely kept from pulling a rude face in retaliation. "What happened then, Dudders?" he asked his son urgently.

"Felt … felt … felt … as if … as if…" Dudley stammered uselessly.

"As if you'd never be happy again," Harry supplied dully.

"Yes," Dudley agreed, still trembling where he stood, the fat of his body shaking like jello.

"So!" sneered Vernon, straightening up to his full height. "You and your wicked little cousin decided to put some crackpot spell on my on so he'd hear voices and believe he was – was doomed to misery, or something, did you? Your idea of a joke?!"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Harry, beginning to lose his cool. "It wasn't me! It was a couple of dementors!"

"A couple of – what's this codswallop?"

"De–men–tors," said Harry slowly and clearly. "Two of them."

"If Harry hadn't have been there, your son would be little more than a husk right about now," Winona informed him tersely.

The look Vernon sent her could have boiled ice. "And what the ruddy hell are dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Petunia so suddenly and unexpectedly that silence was its only response. They all stared at Petunia, who looked so horrified by her own words that Winona thought she might burst into tears right there.

Harry frowned, astonished. "How d'you know that?"

Petunia swallowed loudly, like the next words were hard to stomach. "I heard that awful boy – telling her about them – years ago," she said jerkily, seeming embarrassed by her own knowledge.

"If you mean my mum and dad, why don't you use their names?" Harry demanded hotly.

Petunia acted like he wasn't even there, staring at Vernon apologetically, like she might have hurt his feelings by knowing what Azkaban was. Winona wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she regained the ability to be a decent human being. Who cared what Vernon thought? She should have been more worried about the bloody dementors in Little Whinging!

Vernon, to his very minor credit, seemed to finally take the situation seriously. "So–so–they–er–they–er–they actually exist, do they–er– Dementy-whatsits?" he asked stiltedly, cringing like the words tasted bad on his tongue.

Petunia nodded slowly, lips trembling with emotion.

Another owl swooped into the room, and Harry didn't hesitate to rip open the envelope it had held in its beak. The owl hooted once, oblivious to the way Vernon was sneering at it like it were a rat he'd found in his cereal box, and swooped back out the way it had come.

"What's this one?" Winona asked Harry eagerly.

"What, you don't know?" Harry muttered as he scanned it, sounding just a little bitter.

Winona nearly flinched, but she supposed it was deserved. She wished she knew a spell that would make all of this better for him, but for all the magic at her fingertips, it didn't work like that. All it would take was time.

"They're not gonna destroy my wand," her cousin continued, parchment crinkling in his tight grip. "They're going to wait until the hearing and decide then. And Dumbledore convinced them to suspend me, rather than expel me. That'll be decided at the hearing, too."

"A hearing?" asked Vernon, suddenly very interested. "Do your lot have the death penalty?"

In the span of a heartbeat, Winona had the tip of her wand aimed in Vernon's face. "Watch your tongue or I'll curse it off," she warned him.

The purple faded from the old walrus' face, instead he turned a pasty white. He opened his mouth, trying to come up with a response, but in the end decided it was safer not to reply – the first smart decision he'd made all night.

"Well, if that's all-" said Harry, getting to his feet.

"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" seethed Vernon. "SIT BACK DOWN!"

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed. "What now?"

"DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon. "I want to know exactly what happened to my son!"

Harry began to explain what had happened – with little progress, because the Dursleys all kept interrupting with commentary of their own – but Winona stopped listening. She stared out the open kitchen window. It was hard to see the stars out here, and she suddenly couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts for no reason other than to spend her sleepless nights staring up at the Milky Way and tracing constellations with her eyes.

"But what's _she_ doing here?!" Vernon snarled, pointing a sausage-like finger in Winona's face.

"I told you," she said, exasperated. "I see the future. I came to help."

Vernon had turned purple again. Winona wondered if the drastic colour changes to his face were doing him any permanent damage – then decided she didn't care. "If you see the future, why didn't you stop this from happening?" thundered Vernon, as if suddenly all the blame were on her shoulders. "You've done nothing! You're useless!"

"What's happening here is bigger than your tiny little pea brain will ever understand, Uncle Vernon," she said scathingly, calling him that just to rile him up.

Vernon's beady eyes narrowed with hate. "I'm. Not. Your. Uncle!"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Some things can't be avoided, or changed. They have to happen as they will. And as for what I'm doing – just my _being_ here is turning the tide. So don't you _dare_ say I'm useless, you _belligerent_ Muggle."

Vernon looked like he might very well explode in pure fury, but before he had the chance, a fourth owl came shooting out of the kitchen fireplace, bringing with it a cloud of dust and the smell of ash.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" roared Vernon, vein in his temple throbbing like it threatened to burst. "I WILL NOT HAVE OWLS HERE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"

Winona watched as Harry tore free the note it carried, reading it with hungry eyes. He frowned, then handed it to Winona without a word, knowing instinctively that she'd want to read it – which meant it could have only come from one person.

Her dad's handwriting was as neat as always, even if it did look smudged from how rushed he'd been writing it.

_We know what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. Stay with Winona; she's our eyes. I'll see you soon._

"–a peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of my house. I won't have it, boy, I won't–" Vernon was still ranting. Winona had tuned him out, but as she handed the letter back to a scowling Harry, his voice reappeared in her ears.

"I can't stop the owls coming," Harry snapped at his uncle, Sirius' letter crumpling in his fist.

"I want the truth about what happened tonight!" snarled Uncle Vernon, as if everything they'd said up to now had been some elaborate lie. "If it was demenders who hurt Dudley, how come you've been expelled? And why would _this_ one be here if not for a pre-planned attack? You did you-know-what, you've admitted it!"

"I did the Patronus Charm to get rid of the dementors," said Harry with great deliberation. Winona could hear how he was struggling to stay calm, and she reached out, pressing a hand to his shoulder. Hurt ricocheted through her when he shrugged her off. "It's the only thing that works against them."

"But what were Dementoids doing in Little Whinging?" Vernon demanded, glaring at them like it were their fault.

"We had nothing to do with that," Winona insisted, an icy glower of her own set like stone on her face.

"But someone must have," he thundered. "It's got something to do with you – I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You've got to be the only–the only–" Evidently, he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'wizards'. "The only you-know-whats for miles."

Harry heaved a great sigh. Winona could tell he was getting tired, but as much as she wanted to step in and order the Dursleys to leave Harry alone, she sensed Harry wasn't in the mood to have any decisions made for him, especially not by her. "I don't know why they were here," he insisted tiredly.

"These demembers guard some weirdo prison?" Vernon demanded, struggling to keep up.

"Yes."

"Oho! They were coming to arrest you!" roared Vernon suddenly, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. "That's it, isn't it, boy? You're on the run from the law! You and your little _relative_," he spat the word like it were dirty. Winona rolled her eyes.

"Of course we're not," said Harry, but Winona could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened. He turned suddenly to Winona, a clarity in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "_He_ must have sent them," he said, and Winona noticed suddenly how pale he looked.

She nodded slowly. "It's one theory," she confessed, the most she could possibly say.

Harry looked confused, opening his mouth to ask more, but Vernon interrupted without so much as a hint of regard for politeness. "What's that?" he demanded hotly. "_Who_ must have sent them?"

Harry turned back to his uncle, eyes flat. "Lord Voldemort."

The Dursleys didn't react, but Winona did. She didn't quite flinch – she wasn't afraid of the name, or what it represented; not like the rest of the Wizarding world was – but there was something heavy in the name. Like the evil of the Dark Lord was woven into the very syllables that made up the word. It made her stomach churn and her skin prickle, half expecting You-Know-Who to materialise in the Dursleys' kitchen and kill them all where they stood.

"Lord–hang on," muttered Vernon, his blubbery face screwed up. "I've heard that name … that was the one who…"

"Murdered my parents, yes," Harry confirmed dully.

"But he's gone," said Vernon impatiently, as if he were talking about the weather and not the man who brutally murdered all of Winona and Harry's family – apart from Sirius. But in a way, Voldemort had taken him from them, too. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone."

Harry paused, the weight of his next words obvious. "He's back," he said, quiet and seemingly without fear. But Winona knew otherwise. She knew Harry like she knew her own heart. He was scared; just not in the way that made your hands shake and your voice tremble. He was scared right down to his very soul.

It was quiet for a long few moments, but Winona knew Vernon couldn't comprehend the horror those two words entailed. However, apparently, Petunia could. "Back?" she whispered, fear making her eyes wet.

Harry paused, glancing at Winona, who stared back at him, eyes warm with understanding. "Yes," he said, talking directly to Petunia now. "He came back a month ago. I saw him."

Petunia's skeletal hands clutched at Dudley's hunched shoulders, gripping him hard, like if she held on tightly enough, nothing would be able to take him from her.

"Hang on," said Vernon, looking dazed by the abrupt change in atmosphere. "Hang on. This Lord Voldything's back, you say."

"Yes."

"The one who murdered your parents."

"And Winona's," Harry nodded sombrely.

Vernon blinked. "And now he's sending dismembers after you?"

"Looks like it."

"I see."

There was a moment of quiet, Vernon seeming to consider all the facts very carefully, until finally he came to a decision.

"Well, that settles it," he said sharply, "you can get out of this house, boy!"

Neither Winona nor Harry knew how to react. "Sorry?" Winona asked, feeling rather like she'd just been slapped.

"You heard me–both of you–OUT!" Vernon bellowed, and even Petunia and Dudley flinched. "OUT! OUT! I should've done this years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling and that flying Ford Anglia–OUT! OUT! You've had it! You're history! You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us, if you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!"

Harry stood rooted to the spot, pile of crinkled letters clutched in a tight fist. Any sense of calm Winona had felt immediately vanished, replaced by a seething rage. "You can't kick him out!" she cried. "It isn't safe out there!"

"Well, it's safer for _us_ if he's gone!" sneered Vernon, strangely triumphant, as if he'd just thought up the smartest course of action in his life. "You've got a-a _thing_," he snapped, gesturing to the wand Winona still clutched in her hand. "You can protect him now. It isn't our job anymore!"

Winona stared at him without a word, wondering distantly how one person could be so entirely cruel. She'd had a lot of shitty foster parents in her time – some who hurt her physically, and others who shouted abuse at her like Vernon did to Harry – but never had she been kicked out of the house after getting brutally attacked on the street. Where was Vernon's compassion?

She decided right then and there that, if she hadn't loathed him beforehand, she sure as hell did now.

"You heard me!" Vernon barked. He roared and raged, thundering on like a powerless god, snarling insults and should-have-beens in her cousin's face. But before he could go the extra step and literally throw Harry out onto the street, a fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. It soared straight over both of their heads, flying directly at Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked, her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight back up the chimney.

"You can open it if you like," said Harry, "but we'll hear what it says anyway. That's a Howler."

And he was right – the envelope was a tell-tale crimson, and as much as Winona hoped Petunia would get hit by a bus, she also sort of pitied her. Howlers were never a good time.

"Let go of it, Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous!"

"It's addressed to me," Petunia murmured in a trembling voice. "It's addressed to me, Vernon, look! Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive–"

"Open it!" Harry urged her when the envelope began to smoke. "Get it over with! It'll happen anyway."

"Honestly, just open it," Winona growled. Muggles; you either loved them or you couldn't stand them. Right now, Winona was somewhere in between.

Petunia didn't listen. She looked wildly around the kitchen as though looking for an escape route, but too late – the envelope burst into flames. Petunia screamed and dropped it. An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.

"_REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."_

Petunia looked as though she might faint, and – petty though it was – Winona kind of hoped she would. She sank into the chair beside her still-trembling son, her face in her hands. The remains of the envelope smouldered into ash in the silence.

"What is this?" Vernon asked hoarsely. "What–I don't–Petunia?"

For a long minute, Petunia said nothing, and neither did anyone else, as if afraid that breaking the sudden silence would shatter the world like glass. Winona stared at the woman, whose shoulders trembled, face still buried in her hands. She wondered who the voice had been, and what the words had meant. Harry – likely expecting her to know – stared at her expectantly.

"I'm not all-knowing," Winona whispered in response, frustrated by her own limitation. Harry said nothing.

"Petunia, dear?" Vernon finally murmured, more timid that Winona had ever thought he was capable. "P-Petunia?"

She raised her head slowly, lips trembling and her bird-like eyes wet with tears. "The boy–the boy will have to stay, Vernon," she finally said, so quiet Winona nearly missed it.

Now it was Vernon's turn to look like he'd been slapped. "W-what?"

"He stays," she said. She stood swiftly to her feet.

Vernon gaped at her in shock. "He … but Petunia…"

"If we throw him out, the neighbours will talk," she said briskly. "They'll ask awkward questions, they'll want to know where he's gone. We'll have to keep him."

"But Petunia, dear–?"

Petunia ignored him. She turned to Harry, a sharpness to her face that hadn't been there before. "You're to stay in your room," she said, no give in her voice. For a flash of a moment, even Winona felt like she would obey her. "You're not to leave the house. Your friend has to leave now."

Winona and Harry blinked. "Actually, I'm his _cousin_, and I'm staying," Winona said. Just because the woman had suddenly grown a spine, it didn't mean Winona had to listen to a word she said. She'd stood up to worse authority figures in the past; compared to them, Petunia was barely a blip on her radar.

"No, you're not," Petunia snapped.

"It isn't safe for her to leave-" argued Harry.

"She can look after herself. Goodbye," she said to Winona monotonously.

A plan forming in her head, Winona made a show of hunching her shoulders and looking disappointed. "Very well," she sighed dramatically. She stepped towards Harry – who was now a few inches taller than her – when had _that_ happened? – and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as if in farewell.

"Meet you in five," she whispered covertly.

Harry looked confused when she pulled back, but she simply gave him a comforting smile before reluctantly turning to leave. She heard her cousin arguing with his aunt as she walked to the front door, but she knew Harry could handle himself. She left the house, shutting the door loudly behind her and crossing her arms over her chest tightly, even though the air was still balmy and warm.

She made her way right down to the end of the street, then took a turn into a small gap between a pair of houses where she knew she wouldn't be seen. She took three deep breaths, clutched her wand tightly in her hand, and twisted on the spot.

* * *

**A/N: Spotlight review goes to: _Carpenoctemm –_ So, I received a negative review on the last chapter, and to be honest, it made me second-guess this one. But then I received your review and it completely lifted my spirits. Thank you so much for letting me know you like the story. I absolutely encourage constructive criticism, but that doesn't mean it isn't a little hard to handle sometimes. I hope the majority of you enjoy this piece, and if you aren't enjoying it, then I encourage you to stop reading. Why continue if you get no joy out of it?**

**Oh, and yes, I am still planning to update on Thursdays – this week's just been a little hectic for me, so this update got delayed. Hope you enjoyed!**


	54. I'm invoking my right to silence

Winona Apparated into Harry's bedroom, and the popping sound she'd made caused Harry to jump violently where he was sat at his desk, scribbling something onto a piece of spare parchment.

"Winona!" he cried at the sight of her.

She hushed him, glancing to the doorway. There were no footsteps on the landing outside, no sign that anyone had heard her entrance. Satisfied, she flicked her wand at the door with a muttered, "_Muffliato,_" and then dropped heavily onto her cousin's bed.

"Blimey," she sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "What a night."

"What's going on?" Harry demanded instantly, pushing away from his desk to stand over her, emerald eyes like storm clouds. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. She understood, but still, his hostility made her frown. "I'm being tailed by Mundungus Fletcher? Mrs Figg knows you? How? What's the plan? Why haven't I been getting any answers – from _anyone_?!"

"Shh," she hushed him again. "A Muffliato Charm only covers so much noise, y'know?"

"_Winona._"

She sat up and held up her hands as if in surrender. "I need to tell you now, I can't tell you _everything_."

"Why the hell not?" Harry snapped.

"Calm down," she said, more stern than ever before. Harry seemed to finally realise he was being unfairly harsh and his shoulders drooped as he sighed. "Come here," she ordered him, and very reluctantly he took a heavy seat on the edge of his bed beside her.

She gripped his chin, tilting his head to the side. There was significant swelling around his eye and cheekbone from where Dudley had hit him. Tutting quietly, Winona lifted her wand, took a moment to concentrate, then said, "_Episkey_."

Harry winced, more from the surprise than any pain, and lifted a hand to gingerly prod at the bruising.

"I'm no medi-witch," she said lightly. "But that should help with the pain."

Harry kept prodding it, his wince beginning to fade along with the purple of the bruising. "Yeah," he murmured weakly. "Thanks."

There was a minute of silence that felt heavy with the unsaid, and pain tugged at Winona's heart. She didn't want to hurt Harry, didn't want him to be kept in the dark. Everything she'd done – from her Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore to putting herself in danger to come here – it was all for him. But she didn't know how to tell him that, how to explain she was doing everything she possibly could to make this easier on him.

"I'm sorry for all this, Harry," she whispered.

"Why haven't I heard a scrap of news?" he whispered back, head hung in defeat. The fight was gone, replaced only by weariness. Somehow, that was worse. "Not a word from Ron or Hermione, or from you."

"I've written you plenty," she argued.

"Telling me how you're planning to murder some House-Elf named Kreacher isn't exactly _news_, Winnie," he told her dully.

"I know," she said, because she really did. "I'm sorry."

"What _can_ you tell me?"

"That you're getting out of here," she said, hushed even though she knew her Muffliato Charm would keep the Dursleys from overhearing. "Very soon."

The exhaustion in her cousin seemed to dissipate, replaced by eagerness. "Tonight?"

"Maybe," she told him. "It just depends when the Dursleys leave."

"Leave?"

"Well, they've gotta go out at some point, haven't they?" she asked. "We'll be ready when they do."

But that wasn't enough for Harry, who by this point was so starved of information that he was desperate for anything at all that might make his murky world just that little bit clearer. "Who's _we_?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again. She wasn't quite sure how to answer that one around the Vow she'd made the Dumbledore – better to be safe than dead. But she couldn't say nothing. Harry deserved to know _something._

"The good guys," she told him as a compromise.

It still wasn't enough. "But _who_ are the good guys?!"

"Harry," she said, urgent and serious. She gripped his shoulders, forcing him to face her. "You need to trust me. Everything I'm doing, I'm doing to help you."

"But why can't you _tell_ me anything?!" he cried, nearly at his wits' end.

"It's complicated," she told him. Harry did not look impressed. "I want to tell you everything, but there are things stopping me. _Dangerous_ things, Harry. Once we get back to Headquarters, then you'll know more. But I can't tell you now, and certainly not here. And I'm sorry, but that's just going to have to be enough for you."

Harry fell silent, considering her words. He was angry and lost and frustrated, and it killed her to see him so hopeless. But Winona couldn't risk her life just to ease his frustration; if she was taken out of the equation, who would argue on his behalf? He had friends – Hermione, Ron, the rest of the Weasleys, and of course Sirius – but she didn't trust anyone to take care of him but her. They weren't willing to stand up to Dumbledore in the way she was. They didn't have the power she had, or know the things she did.

It had to be her.

There was the heavy thumps of footsteps coming up the stairs, and then the locks on the outside of Harry's door began to click. Harry cast her a look of panic, but she just smiled calmly and began to twirl her wand around her body like she were threading a rope, casting the Disillusionment Charm with a surprising amount of success.

"What're you-?" Harry tried to ask, but she hurriedly shushed him just as the door burst open and Vernon stomped into the room. Harry glanced at his uncle, then back at his cousin, only to find she'd somehow blended in so well with the corner of his room that she was nearly impossible to see if you didn't first know where to look.

"Whatever you and that _cousin_ of yours have done to Dudley," Vernon spat, oblivious to the witch hidden in the corner, "it's making him frightfully ill. We're taking him to the hospital."

"He'll be fine once you give him some chocolate," Harry told him.

"Chocolate?" Vernon echoed furiously. "Do you think me a fool?!"

"Yes, but that's beside the point," sniped Harry. "Chocolate really _will_ help."

"I think I'll put my faith in the doctors over the codswallop of a deranged boy."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself."

"You're not to leave your room while we're gone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Vernon sneered at him one final time before waddling from the room. He slammed the door after him, then took the time to triple-lock the door from the outside once again. Winona waited until his thunderous footsteps had faded away before tapping herself with her wand, becoming visible once more.

"What was that?" Harry asked quickly.

"Disillusionment Charm," she told him, sticking her wand into the knot in her hair and then fishing around in her pocket for the mirror Sirius had lent her for tonight. "Not quite invisibility, but works wonders against the most stupid of Muggles."

"What're you doing?" asked Harry as she pulled free the mirror. The front door down on the floor below slammed, and a moment later the sound of the Dursleys' car starting up in the driveway met their ears.

"Letting our people know we're good to go," she told him, holding up the mirror, staring into it. There was nobody on the other side, but she knew it wouldn't stay empty for long.

"How?"

"Well, I can't very well use your electric fireplace to send word, can I?" she said. "And an owl would take far too long."

Abruptly there was a face in the other side of the mirror. "Winnie?" her dad asked, grey eyes glinting hopefully.

"They're gone," she told him. "Not sure for how long, so you best get on with it."

And that was that. They ended with a nod, and then Winona slipped the mirror back into her pocket.

She turned back to Harry, who looked stunned by that barest glimpse of his godfather. "You'll be seeing him tonight," she promised Harry. "You'll be seeing them all."

"Where?" She smiled sadly and Harry huffed, frustrated. "Right. Of course. You can't tell me _that_, either."

"I have my-"

"Reasons," he finished knowingly, sounding so defeated that Winona's heart hurt. "I know."

"Won't be long now," she promised him.

He frowned. "Until what?"

Winona heard a series of distant but distinct _pops_, then there was a loud crash from the kitchen below. Harry gasped, sitting up straight and reaching for his wand.

"It's okay," Winona hurried to assure him. "It's just the others."

That didn't relax him any. "_Who_?"

They could hear voices floating up the staircase now, and Harry was on his feet, wand clutched at his side, ready to use it at a moment's notice.

The locks on his door clicked loudly, and the door swung open to reveal nobody on the other side. "Wait here," Winona ordered Harry, gripping her own wand tight and walking through the doorway. Harry didn't listen, close on her heels as she made her way to the railing that overlooked the entryway. Winona rolled her eyes. "_Lumos,_" she muttered, lighting up the hall.

A good number of the Order were stood on the level below, looking up at the pair of them expectantly. But Winona needed to be sure. Her shrewd eyes turned to Moody and her lit wand followed.

"Who fetched me from King's Cross Station in June?" she demanded.

Moody's one good eye narrowed, but he answered anyway. "Myself, Tonks, and Lupin," he said, voice as low and gravelly as always. "You were awfully quiet for someone I'd been told never shuts up."

Winona lowered her wand. "Fair point."

"Good to see you're taking precautions," Lupin added.

"Well, I figure since I was given the allowance to be here at all, the least I can do in return is be careful."

"Winnie?" asked Harry, peering over the railing beside her, eyeing the group of witches and wizards on the floor below. "What's going on? What's Professor Moody doing here?"

Moody made a scoffing noise that was more of a growl. "I don't know so much about 'Professor'," he said sourly, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, the both of you. We want to see you properly."

Winona took a step towards the stairs, but Harry didn't move. "Harry, it's all right," she assured him quietly. "They're all with Dumbledore. They're our escort out of his hellhole."

In the glow of her wand light, Harry frowned.

"I know it's weird trusting another guy wearing Moody's face," Winona began. Moody grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and by the way Tonks snorted with amusement, it hadn't been anything kind. "But I swear, you can trust them," she continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "'Sides, as if our favourite Professor would ever lead us astray."

Winona nodded down to the group below, and Harry's eyes widened as he took in the individual faces in the group, rather than just a great crowd. "Professor Lupin?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Hello again, Harry," said Remus who, although he looked shabby and drawn from the full moon only a few nights previous, was thrilled to see Harry again, smiling up at him kindly. Tonks was stood beside him, violet hair glinting in Winona's wand light.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," she said brightly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," said Kingsley from the back of the group. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Winona bumped fists with Tonks in hello. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," said Doge from his place behind Kingsley. "Lily's eyes."

Moody had had enough of the chatter. "Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him a security question, too."

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Remus asked patiently.

"A stag," said Harry nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye. Although, I'd say Winona's presence is evidence enough."

Harry reached the ground floor beside Winona, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. But Moody – as always – had something to say about that. "Don't put your wand there, boy!" the crotchety old blighter squawked. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"

"Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" Tonks wondered, understandably interested.

Mad-Eyes magical eye whizzed around to fix her an irritable glare. "Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket! Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it anymore…"

Moody stumped off towards the kitchen, apparently needing a moment alone – or more likely feeling the urge to secure the perimeter a third time. Winona rolled her eyes, ignoring Moody's shout that he'd seen her do it.

Lupin shook Harry's hand, asking how he was. Her cousin said he was fine, but even a blind man wouldn't have believed him. He lifted a hand to self-consciously smooth down his perpetually-messy hair, and Winona smiled fondly.

"I don't understand," said Harry, looking around at them all in confusion. "You've planned this? You've come to get me?"

Moody thumped his way back into the room. "We were going to wait a few days, make sure things had cooled off," he explained grumpily, jerking the end of his walking stick in Winona's direction. "But Little-Miss-Visions here insisted it couldn't wait."

Harry turned to her. "The sooner you're out of this hellhole, the better," she told him with a shrug. It wasn't _strictly_ necessary that they got him tonight as opposed to a few days from now, but Winona knew how much Harry loathed it here. She knew how desperate he was to see the others; so she might have made a bit of a big deal about moving the date up a bit. But that was neither here nor there.

Seeing the truth of it in her eyes, some of Harry's iciness towards her thawed. He attempted a smile that wasn't quite genuine, but certainly headed in the right direction. Winona reached out, gripping his hand and quickly squeezing.

"So we're leaving?" he asked, looking to the others eagerly. "Now?"

"We're just waiting for the all-clear," said Remus.

"Where are we going? The Burrow?"

"Not The Burrow, no," Remus shook his head, motioning Harry towards the kitchen. "Too risky. We've set up Headquarters somewhere un-detectable. It's taken awhile…"

Tonks wound her arm around Winona's, grinning at her as she led the way into the kitchen after the others. Winona listened as Remus introduced her cousin to the other members of the Order.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," Remus added, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Harry stared at the group of strangers uncomprehendingly.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Moody. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," said Remus, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" said Tonks, curious and conversational. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards?"

"'Course," said Winona. "The Dursleys are at the far end of the spectrum. I think they're kind of anal."

Harry didn't have the patience for chatter any more than Moody did. "Look," he said, staring expectantly at Remus, "what's going on? I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol–?"

The Order members hissed at the name, and even Remus flinched, eyes going tight. "Shut up," Moody snarled, and Harry blinked in surprise.

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody told him sternly. "Damn it," he added angrily when his magical eye wouldn't cooperate, "it keeps getting stuck – ever since that _scum_ wore it-"

He took out the eye with an awful squelching noise, and Winona grimaced. "Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" Tonks said mildly. Moody didn't deign to respond.

"Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?"

Her cousin did as he was asked, and they watched as Moody dropped the magical eye into the water. It whizzed about, staring at each of them in turn. Winona smirked at the thought of the Dursleys ever finding out what the glass had been used for – they'd want to throw it into a fire the first chance they got.

"How're we getting – er – wherever we're going?" Harry wondered, unable to stand all the unanswered questions still hovering in the air.

"Brooms," Lupin told him, and Winona smiled at the interest in Harry's eyes. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"Winona said you're a good flier," said Kingsley.

"He is," Winona nodded, turning to smile proudly at her cousin. "The best."

Harry didn't quite smile back, but he didn't scowl either, so she was counting it as progress. "You'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll give you a hand," Winona offered.

"No, you won't, Miss Black," said Moody sternly. "You're staying put."

"_Moody_," Winona whined, aware she sounded like a child, and wholly uncaring. It had been a very long night.

Moody's only response was to jab a finger at the chair opposite him at the Dursleys' kitchen table. Huffing dramatically, Winona dropped into the seat.

"No worries, I'll come and help you," said Tonks, the grin she shot at Harry like the shining lights of a Christmas tree, and just as warm. Harry nodded and led the way back up the stairs to collect his things.

Sullen, Winona turned to Moody, whose attention was still on the eye he had set bobbing in the glass of water Harry had fetched for him. She waited for him to speak, getting the feeling he was only drawing it out to be a pain. Finally, he fished out his creepy eye, shoved it back into its socket with a horrible popping sound, and turned his attention back to her.

"Report," he said, as though she were one of his Aurors.

She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't a soldier to be ordered about, but paused. Wasn't she just, essentially, exactly that? Maybe she wasn't usually on the frontlines like he and the others of the guard there tonight, but wasn't she a soldier just the same? What was it Dumbledore had said? They were all just pawns in this game of cosmic chess?

So, despite feeling a little bitter, she obeyed. "Happened just as I knew it would, although I was nearly late for the whole thing – never have been great with exact times. S'not like I can tell the time of day from the position of the sun, y'know?"

"Winona," said Moody flatly, unimpressed by the insignificant chatter.

Her expression hardened into a glare, but she did as she was told. "I got there just in time. Wasn't much help against the Dementors, but Harry was brilliant. Dudley was a bit of a mess, but I s'pose the poor sod'll be right in a few days. Mrs Figg arrived – oh! Did Dumbledore mention that Mundungus fucked off to go make an 'important business deal'?" she sneered, air quotes and all.

"Language, Winona," said Remus, and although it sounded like a reprimand, when Winona met his eyes she found amusement in their depths. He was leant over the counter, having at some point produced a self-inking quill from his pocket, along with a piece of parchment. Winona wasn't sure what he was doing, but couldn't be stuffed asking.

She batted away his comment, her attention on Moody. "Did I, or did I not, warn you about that slimy little rat?" she demanded hotly. "I've been telling you for days to take him off rotation, and look what happens!"

"To be fair," began Kingsley, forever the diplomat, "you never warned us that this, exactly, would happen."

"Oh, right, of course," she muttered back, a tad sharper than she meant to be. She'd always liked Kingsley, he was a good wizard. "I see now how it must have confused you. Next time I'll make all my drawings into children's pop-up books, so you'll be able to understand." Nobody looked amused by her snide comments, but she wasn't fishing for laughs. "When I give you a warning – even offhandedly – it needs to be followed. Otherwise what in the name of Merlin's saggy left nut am I _actually here for_?"

Moody didn't reply – maybe because he sensed Winona was beyond the point of civil conversation – so Remus bit the bullet instead. "Not to worry, Winnie. We won't be putting so much faith in Mundungus again any time soon."

Somewhat placated, Winona leaned back in her chair with a huff. Seeing some of her stubborn fight drain away, Moody stepped back into the fray. "Were you being watched? Did you see any signs of Ministry interference?"

"I didn't see anything – but I had the strangest feeling we were being watched," she told him, reaching down to pick at a hangnail. "Could've just been the Dementors, but I'm not sure. The whole thing happened very quickly."

They were silent, considering. The others in the hastily-assembled guard were wandering about the Dursleys' kitchen, inspecting the Muggle cooking equipment with confusion and amusement. Hestia in particular seemed to find the Muggle potato-peeler downright hilarious. It wasn't quite enough to get Winona to smile, but it thawed her icy innards just a bit.

Then Remus stepped forwards, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You weren't hurt?" he asked kindly. "How do you feel?"

And for Remus, she could at least _attempt_ a smile. "I'm fine, Professor," she teased. "I even ate the chocolate and everything."

Remus smiled, patting her shoulder warmly before pulling back and returning to the letter he was composing for the Dursleys.

"Anything else of note to report?" Moody demanded briskly.

"No," Winona told him. "But I saw everything. I'm the perfect witness."

"Has anyone brought up the obvious?" Kingsley spoke up from where he was stood beside Podmore at the microwave. "What if the Wizengamot wants to administer Miss Black with Veritaserum?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Winona, and she frowned. While she wasn't worried about the results of the trial being altered by that in any way – the thought was a daunting one. There were things in her head that nobody else was allowed to know. Not yet, anyway. It could the events set in place. And while those events weren't particularly of the happy-variety, at least she knew what was coming; and could keep it from coming to pass.

"Dumbledore would have thought of that," said Moody certainly. "But wouldn't use Veritaserum for a trial over the use of underage magic. It's an extreme – used only in the most heinous of crimes."

They hadn't used Veritaserum in her father's case – and that certainly _had_ been the most heinous of crimes. She glanced instinctively to Remus, meeting his eyes. An understanding passed between them, their minds both going to the same place. The shared a frown, turning as one back to their separate tasks.

"Dumbledore wants _you_ there at that hearing, Winona," Moody continued, seemingly not noticing their silent moment, although Winona doubted he was actually so oblivious. "The word of a Seer holds power, more so than you know."

It was nothing Winona hadn't heard before, and she slouched in her chair, tapping an uneven rhythm against the wooden tabletop as the room was claimed by quiet. Eventually Harry and Tonks reappeared, Harry's trunk hovering after them.

"Excellent," said Lupin, looking up as they entered and sealing the letter to the Dursleys with a flick of his wrist. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry–"

"They won't," said Harry dully.

"–that you're safe–"

"That'll just depress them."

"–and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?" Harry nearly whined, and in an instant Winona saw a hint of herself in her cousin. They may not have looked very similar, but their mannerisms sometimes aligned, and she had to wonder whether anyone else had ever noticed it before.

"Come here, boy," grunted Moody gruffly. "I need to Disillusion you."

Firebolt strung over one shoulder, Harry turned to Winona. "Like you did, in my room?"

"The very same," she nodded. "Your cloak won't stay on while you're flying."

Without a word Moody tapped Harry hard on the top of the head. He shivered against the sensation but didn't complain. Winona watched as the colour in his skin and clothes faded, replaced by the tiled texture of the kitchen unit behind him.

"Come on," said Moody briskly, unlocking the back door with his wand.

They'd lined their brooms up in a small alcove, hidden from sight. When Winona stepped out onto the grass, Remus handed her a broom. She didn't have her own, so when she looked down at it, she recognised it to be Fred's.

While not anywhere near a _Firebolt_, his old _Comet_ was still the most expensive thing he owned – even if it was a hand-me-down from Charlie. She didn't imagine he'd parted with it easily, and wondered what they'd said to convince him to hand it over. The thought that he'd done it for her – while hardly surprising – was still enough to make her grin properly for the first time that night.

Tonks caught sight of the stupid expression and snorted. "Oh, to be in love," she chimed playfully.

Winona's vision flickered, and she gasped, drawing the attention of Moody, who was stood nearby ranting about how they weren't to break ranks. "Winona," he said, voice as hard and uncompromising as steel – his version of concern.

Winona shook her head to clear it, then reached up to rub at her eyes for good measure. "Thought a vision was coming on," she admitted, because she was too tired to lie. "But it's fine. It's gone."

Moody didn't look pleased, but he could say nothing as there was a shower of red sparks in the night sky above them. Remus looked to Winona warily. "Can you fly?"

She nodded.

"Are you _sure_?"

"That's the second signal," hissed Moody as there was another burst of sparks above, this time in a deep green. "Let's go!"

And whether or not Winona was fine to fly, she suddenly had no choice. Gripping the handle of Fred's broom, she took a deep breath of balmy night air and kicked off from the ground.

While Winona wasn't a Quidditch player in any setting other than a lazy summer's day at the Burrow, she loved to fly; especially at night. There was something about climbing up into the sky that felt magical in a way not even _real_ magic could achieve. Flying upwards, she tilted her head back and stared up at the sky. She felt like she could almost reach up and scoop out a handful of the stars.

Her moment of peace was broken, however, when Moody's rasping voice shouted, "Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!"

Winona reluctantly turned her attention back to the task at hand, finding that the formation had drifted to the left. She hurried to follow – Moody would curse her hair off if she fell behind, even by accident.

"We need more height… Give it another quarter of a mile!" he shouted from where he was positioned. Winona cast a look back at him, but his attention wasn't on her; Remus was flying close to her side, however, and his _was_. She suddenly got the feeling Sirius had asked him to keep an extra eye on her. She couldn't find it in herself to be anything other than warmed.

Winona glanced at the rest of their guard. Her and Harry were in the centre of the formation, the others acting as literal shields for them, should anything go wrong. But Winona hadn't seen anything bad happening, and she doubted she'd have missed it if she had.

Looking to Harry, she found him grinning widely in something that might have been a laugh, but she couldn't hear it over the whistling of the wind. She could imagine how awful it had been for him, stuck at the Dursleys' without barely a scrap of news. Winona's heart had ached for him every day she'd been at Grimmauld Place, but it hurt the most now, seeing him revel in the simple freedom of being on a broomstick.

"Bearing south!" shouted Mad-Eye. "Town ahead!"

Winona did as she was told. Despite the heat of the summer night, the air this high up was icy, slapping against her face and ripping her hair from its braid. Her fingers had grown numb against the handle of Fred's broom, but she couldn't let go to flex them, and just hoped her grip was tight enough.

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!"

"We're not going through clouds!" shouted Tonks over the howling wind. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

Thankfully Moody seemed to take pity, and he altered their course so they went around the clouds, instead of through them. The flew on and on, for so long Winona felt like she'd all but transfigured into a block of living ice. Her arms were aching, and so was her spine from the hunched position she was in. The broom she sat on trembled every time there was a particularly nasty gust of wind, and she could only pray to Merlin that it wasn't going to give out under the pressure and send her crashing down to earth.

Winona wanted to shout to Moody – beg him to let them land and risk Apparating with Harry despite the risks – but just as she'd given up fighting the urge, Moody spoke up. "Turning southwest!" he yelled, barely audible over the roaring wind. "We want to avoid the motorway!"

Winona groaned, and she was joined by Harry, Tonks, and Hestia, all of whom were more than ready for this excursion to be over.

"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!"

Winona would rather break every bone in her body twice than double back _again_, but thankfully Tonks spoke up before she had the chance to gain any more of Moody's bottomless ire.

"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" she screamed from where she was positioned up the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off-course we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!"

Glancing through stinging eyes to Mad-Eye, Winona saw him open his mouth to argue, but Remus interjected. "Time to start the descent!" he called, using what Winona fondly referred to as his professor-voice. It was the only time he managed to sound authoritative, and made her yearn for simpler times. "Follow Tonks, you two!"

With a cry of relief that was swallowed by the altitude, Winona followed Tonks' decent down towards the ground. The lights of the city grew closer and closer, and by the time they were low enough to see proper streets, Winona recognised the familiar front of Grimmauld Place.

They landed in the small square that sat opposite her family's house. Well, Tonks and Harry landed, Winona just sort of collapsed onto the grass. She was so frozen, it was as if the joints in her knees had frozen in place, and she groaned as she laid shivering in the dirt, staring up at the starry night sky, heedless of the witches and wizards coming down all around her like graceful birds.

"Oh, get up," growled Moody as he landed. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Says the wizard who made us circle around the city – three times! Paranoid bastard," she added in a snide mutter. Moody ignored her with the ease of someone who'd been called that a thousand times before and had long since ceased to care.

A hand appeared in her vision, and she took it, letting Harry pull her up to her feet. Now standing, she swayed into her cousin, trying to keep from shivering too much.

"Alive?" she asked him quietly.

"Far as I can tell," he replied, his earlier frostiness disappeared now that he was away from his aunt and uncle's house and back with his own people – just metres away from his _real_ family. "Cold?"

"That a trick question?" she murmured scathingly as she trembled from head to toe.

Harry smiled wryly, then turned to look at the street they'd landed in. "Where are we?" he asked, much louder than was wise.

Remus shushed him gently. "In a minute," he promised, and Harry could only nod obediently.

"Got it," muttered Moody, and Winona turned to see him holding out Dumbledore's deluminator. Clicking it, he extinguished all the street lamps in Grimmauld Place until the only light sources were the glow in the house windows and the moon shining up above. "Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explained to a confused looking Harry. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on, quick."

Moody gripped Harry's arm, beginning to drag him in the direction of number 12. Rolling her eyes at his predictably brusque manner, Winona gripped her wand tight in one hand and Fred's broom in the other, following after them cautiously. She doubted they were going to get attacked in the street, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

They reached number 12, but of course Harry couldn't see it. To fix this, Moody thrust a piece of parchment towards Harry's Disillusioned hand and held his lit wand close to it, so he could read what it said. "Read quickly and memorise," he ordered her cousin briskly.

Harry did as he was told, but not without confusion twisting on his face. "What's the Order of the–?"

"Not here, boy!" snarled Moody, snatching the parchment from Harry's hand and setting it alight with a snap of his fingers to destroy the evidence. "Wait till we're inside!"

Harry was still utterly flummoxed. He stared at the row of houses, noticing the missing number 12. "But where's–?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus said quietly. Confused, but knowing by now when not to bother wasting time with questions, Harry did as he was told. Winona could already see number 12, but she watched Harry's shock as he saw its unveiling for the first time. She understood what it was like to be constantly stunned by the wonders of magic. Again, she felt a connection between them – they had so much more in common than just their blood.

"Come on, hurry," growled Moody when Harry just stood there uselessly, jabbing him in the spine and forcing him forwards.

Remus opened the door for them, and although over the last month this house had been more a prison than anything else, Winona still felt an inexplicable relief to be back. Maybe because she knew this was the safest possible place for her to be. Or maybe because of who she knew to be waiting inside.

"Get in quick, Harry," Remus whispered, "but don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

Harry slid inside obediently, then Winona was urged inside after him by a hand on her shoulder. By the size of it, she knew it to be Kingsley's. Rolling her eyes, she followed Harry into Grimmauld Place.

Once he'd returned the lights to their respective street lamps, Moody limped in after them and shut the door tightly. With a tap on Harry's head, he lifted the Disillusionment Charm he'd cast over her cousin.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here," Moody hissed in his usual way. Winona could hear the murmuring of voices from behind the door that led down into the kitchen/meeting room. Clearly they hadn't concerned themselves with waiting for the guard to return before starting the meeting.

The lights came on in the hall, and she glanced at Harry to find him frowning deeply at the inside of the house. She looked to the hallway, taking in its gloominess and gothic touches, and suddenly saw it through new eyes. She'd gotten so used to it all over the last month, she'd stopped noticing that it looked like the inside of a Victorian funeral parlour.

Just as Winona set Fred's broom against the wall with the rest of the guard's idle broomsticks, there were hurried footsteps on the stairs, and then Mrs Weasley was emerging from the door leading to the kitchen. She smiled widely at the sight of Harry, shuffling forwards and bringing him into a tight embrace. Winona could sense her relief at the sight of him; and she could relate.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, then held him away from her so she could assess him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid…"

She turned to Winona then, brow furrowed as she seemed to hesitate, then quickly brought her into a hug too. Winona's arms were trapped against her chest, but she did her best to hug Mrs Weasley back anyway.

"You're all right, dear?" she asked, pulling away to assess Winona too. "Everything go okay?"

"We're in one piece," was Winona's response, and Mrs Weasley gave a sad smile. "He's here, then?"

"He's just arrived," she told her, then looked up the rest of the guard, "the meeting's started."

The guard all made noises of interest and began to file past them, heading through the ominous-looking doorway that led to the kitchen. Winona stayed where she was, watching as Harry made to follow after Moody and Remus. But Mrs Weasley gripped his arm, keeping him from moving.

"No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order," she told him, stern but not unkind. "Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall."

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"I don't want anything to wake up."

That only made him more confused. "What d'you–?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting – and so are you, Winona," Mrs Weasley tutted. "He'll want your recount of the night. Best not keep him waiting."

Winona agreed – she might not have been afraid of Dumbledore, but he certainly demanded a certain degree of respect. The kind she couldn't help but bend to.

She turned to Harry. "When you see the twins, let them know I'm back safe?"

But Harry was frowning. "You're not coming with me?"

"I've got to get to the meeting," she said apologetically.

"What meeting?" he demanded, beginning to grow frustrated. Winona knew how maddening it must all have been, but her gag order was unbreakable. She could only smile at him apologetically.

"You'll know soon enough," she told him. "I promise."

Then she wrapped an arm around his shoulders – somehow broader than they had been a month ago – and gave him a quick side-hug before reluctantly hurrying down the hall and descending into the darkness below.

The meeting was a madhouse – but it always was before Dumbledore put his foot down and brought the room to order. This many witches and wizards, holed up in a dank room together; there was bound to be a bit of chaos.

To her dismay, Snape was the first to see her, and his lip curled back in a sneer at the sight of her. She returned it, just barely keeping from making a rude gesture in his direction. Luckily, she was distracted by a call of her name, and her attention went to Sirius, who was sat at the table with an open chair beside him, on the left of Dumbledore who sat silent and still at the head of the table.

"How was it? Are you okay? How's Harry?" Sirius asked impatiently the moment she was sat in her seat.

"He's frustrated," she told him as he threaded an arm around her shoulders and hugged her quickly – just as she had with Harry. The comparison nearly made her smile.

"Well, that's to be expected," Sirius murmured calmly, but the crease in his brow was impossible to mask. "And you're all right?"

"Fine," she assured him. "I'll be glad for today to be over, though. How long d'you think this meeting'll take?"

"As long as necessary, Winona," said Dumbledore, voice low and commanding as always. She looked up at him, trying not to scowl. He smiled as if oblivious to her irritation.

Mrs Weasley reappeared, shutting the door after her with a resounding click and then casting a quick Imperturbable Charm on it for good measure. The twins had been caught using their Extendable Ears to eavesdrop on Order meetings more than once over the last few weeks, so now they had to take extra precautions.

Dumbledore took this as his cue to begin the meeting. All he had to do was lift his hands and instantly the room fell silent, commanded by little more than a gesture. Winona often wondered how he did that; commanded a room without so much as a word. It was its own brand of magic; known to the masses as _respect._

The meeting began with Snape's weekly report – because his was the most important on the docket – and Winona listened with a pit in her stomach as he spoke about the Death Eater circles he was connected with and how Lucius Malfoy in particular was boasting more than usual about his contacts at the Ministry – something that didn't at all bode well for the outcome of Harry's trial.

Winona noticed Mundungus wasn't there, and wondered if maybe Dumbledore had kicked him out altogether. She doubted he had, but a girl could dream.

Moody spoke up next, reporting on their long trip from Little Whinging, but with little to report on the matter, it was over rather quickly. Dumbledore turned to Winona. Again, he had to say nothing; they all just knew what he wanted. It made Winona want to scream.

Still, despite the urge, she held it in and did as she _wasn't_ told.

She recounted the story from the moment she arrived at Little Whinging, all the way up to the guard arriving to bring them safely home. Dumbledore listened without a word. He didn't even nod along; he just sat there, his icy, inscrutable eyes focused on her. She wanted to scowl again, but managed to keep her expression blank, if only by sheer force of will.

"Kingsley brought up a good point at the Muggles' house," said Remus once she was done and Dumbledore had nodded sagely. "What if the Wizengamot wants to confirm her recount by use of Veritaserum?"

Dumbledore waved a hand as if batting away a fly. "It's a non-issue."

There was a grumble of dissent throughout the gathered Order Members, and to Winona's surprise, it was Bill who spoke up from where he was stood in the far corner of the room. "Won't they want to administer it anyway? Even if it _is_ just a simple underage magic offence? I can't imagine they'd let the opportunity to have that kind of unfettered access to Winnie's mind slip away."

"I've considered it," said Dumbledore without batting an eye. "It's under control."

Winona didn't like the sound of that, but she said nothing, slumping in her seat and pressing a hand over her stomach when it began to grumble. If they didn't get this over with soon, she was going to scream. She had to eat; she had to see her friends.

They moved onto other topics then. Hestia spoke about a small gathering similar to the Order that was rising up in Romania, and immediately a debate broke out about whether or not to induct them into the Order officially or not.

Bored, Winona slumped deeper into her chair, legs outstretched under the table, and shut her eyes, trying to tune out all the disagreeing voices in the room.

"How is he, really?" Sirius asked, little more than a whisper, but she still heard him.

Winona opened one eye, glancing at her dad before she answered. "He's a wreck," she confessed. "But wouldn't you be, too?"

Sirius looked pained by the simple truth of it. "I hate the way this has to be handled."

Winona sighed. "Me too."

Dumbledore called the meeting to order once more and everybody fell immediately silent. "We'll have Charlie Weasley look into this new order in Romania, but until then, nobody is to take any further action."

The group mumbled various assents. Just as Winona thought the meeting was finally coming to a close and they could get on with dinner – Snape had to open his stupid, ugly mouth.

"Does it not concern anyone that perhaps the Potter boy being here is too high of a risk?"

Nobody spoke a moment, considering his words. "A risk?" Sirius broke the quiet, ire hardening in the laugh lines of his face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"This connection the Dark Lord has with his mind; does it not put these _lovely_ Headquarters at risk of being discovered?" he sneered, nose crinkled like he smelt something bad. "Having the boy so close to the Order puts all our secrets at threat."

The Order began to mutter amongst themselves, some agreeing fervently, while others were glaring at Snape for so much as saying a word against Harry. Some of these people saw her cousin as something of a messiah – and she knew that if Harry ever found that out, he'd chug a bottle of bleach just so he wouldn't have to think about it.

It was rather hilarious to her, actually, how they revered him. Yes, he had a destiny, and yes, he was powerful. But he was also the kid who never properly combed his hair, and was barely passing his classes at school. She'd seen him asleep on the couch in the common room, drool leaking from his mouth, glasses askew on his face. She'd seen him straight after a Quidditch match, sweaty and dirty, a giddy grin on his face and his eyes wild with happiness.

Yes, he was the saviour of the wizarding world. But he was also just _Harry._ He was just her cousin. He was just a _kid_.

Dumbledore lifted his hands for at least the fifth time in the single meeting, and the room fell as obediently silent as the students in the Great Hall would at a feast.

"As far as we can tell, Voldemort is as of yet unaware of the connection he holds with Harry," he said, slow and steady, ignoring the way the entire room flinched at the careless use of You-Know-Who's name. "We don't need to worry about a breach in our security – particularly if nothing which happens inside these meetings ever reaches his ears," he added with a stern glance at Winona.

She bristled, offended by the insinuation, but had to admit it wasn't completely off the mark. She was glad, in a weird, twisted way, that she'd made the Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore. Without it, there would be absolutely nothing stopping her from opening her mouth and spilling every dark secret the Order had to Harry, just because she thought he deserved to know.

But she couldn't – they had to play this smart, and that meant keeping certain people from knowing certain things; at least until the time was right.

"I won't tolerate any more skepticism of Harry's place here," said Dumbledore, voice low but also like thunder; impossible to ignore. It was the first thing he'd said in a long while that Winona didn't resent him for. "Sirius and Winona are his family," he continued, softening her further. "This is where he will stay, and he is to be treated with the utmost trust and respect."

The Order all mumbled vague agreements in response, and on that note the meeting was adjourned. Nobody really hung around once Dumbledore left, for which Winona was grateful. She didn't feel like spending time avoiding the minefield that was conversation with all the members of the Order.

If they treated Harry like their messiah, then Winona was their oracle. Sometimes they even asked her for advice on their personal relationships, and whether or not to invest in an upcoming business venture. That was always uncomfortable, and she'd rather avoid it at all costs.

"I'll go fetch the children for dinner, shall I?" Mrs Weasley said once only the house's residents and Tonks remained, the others all beginning to slowly file up the stairs and out the front door. She disappeared up to the next floor and Winona relaxed, turning to look at Sirius, who looked just as relieved for it all to be over.

"I'll make sure the others got out okay," said Remus.

"I'll join you," added Tonks. Remus looked momentarily surprised, but the surprise faded into a strange bashfulness that made his cheeks seem to go pink as he led the way upstairs.

Winona's vision flickered, and she gasped. The vision she'd so easily forced back from her mind earlier that night had resurfaced, and this time it wasn't to be ignored.

By now Sirius was familiar enough with her visions to know what to do, and she didn't have to say a word for a piece of scrap parchment and a self-inking quill were plopped onto the kitchen table in front of her.

She thanked him – or she thought she did, it was a little hard to hear herself over the rushing in her ears – and allowed the current of time to drag her under. By her usual standards, it wasn't a particularly violent vision. It lasted only a few minutes, of which she barely felt passing.

Coming out of it, Winona breathed deeply and rubbed at her eyes, which were always a little bit sore after a vision. Looking down at her haphazard sketch, she was surprised to find it to be a rendering of Remus and Tonks stood together, his arms wrapped around her, while in her arms was a tiny little bundle that was unmistakeably a baby.

Winona's eyes went wide, and she made a strange yelping sound that brought Sirius' attention back to her. "All right, Pup?" he asked, leaning over her to try and get a look at her prediction. "Draw anything important?"

"No," she said quickly, pressing the piece of spare parchment to her chest, hiding the sketch from view. "It's – er – personal."

Sirius arched an eyebrow so perfectly, it was like he'd taken a class. "Personal?" he asked skeptically. "Personal to _you_?"

"Um, not exactly."

"Then why can't I see it?"

She hesitated. "I'm invoking my right to silence."

Sirius gave a bark of a laugh. "What?"

"As a Seer, my privacy must be absolute-" she began in an important sort of voice.

Sirius cut her off with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he huffed. "You'd tell me if it was bad though, right?"

She considered the question – it really depended on what the bad thing was. She'd drawn earlier that Sirius was going to die in a large room with a stone arch in the centre, but she hadn't told him that. She hadn't told anyone – not even Fred. She got the feeling that, if she wanted to be able to stop it, it was something she'd have to keep close to her chest.

"It isn't bad," she said rather than answer – a cop-out if there ever was one. She pulled the parchment back just enough to get another glance at her drawing. "It's actually rather good."

Sirius eyed her, considering, but before he could reply there came a great crash from the floor above, followed almost immediately by the awakening of her lovely grandmother.

"_FILTH! SCUM! DIRTY HALF-BREEDS! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-?_"

"Not again," groaned Sirius, already up and out of his chair, taking the stairs two at a time. With him distracted, Winona quickly folded her sketch into a little square, then shoved it into the pocket of her jeans where it wasn't likely to be found by anyone accidentally.

She knew they'd be back in a minute, so she went over to the drawer that had a Permanent Cooling Charm cast over it (so as to mirror the Muggles' electric refrigerators), and pulled out a bottle of butterbeer. Mrs Weasley wouldn't approve, but Winona didn't particularly care for anyone's approval by this point.

Mr Weasley and Bill were still in the room, talking quietly at the far end of the table. Winona let them talk, taking a seat at the table again and staring into the roaring fire as she sipped her drink, wishing distantly that she knew where Mrs Weasley had hidden the firewhisky after that night Sirius got so drunk he tried to coax Buckbeak into the drawing room.

Finally the others all began to flood back into the room, with Harry and Mrs Weasley at the front of the brood.

"Harry!" said Mr Weasley, bright and endearingly genuine. "Good to see you!"

Bill hurried to roll up the pieces of parchment strewn across the table. He glanced at Winona, silently asking for help, but she just took a defiant sip of butterbeer and stayed exactly where she was. She might not have been able to _tell_ Harry any of the Orders secrets, but it wasn't her fault if he accidentally saw mission reports or the blueprints to Malfoy Manor, now, was it?

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill asked as he sent Winona a sour look that only made her smirk. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks, striding into the room and helping Bill with the hasty clean up.

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," Mrs Weasley snapped when she caught Harry peering eagerly at the plans still laid out on the table. She began to unload all the dinner plates for their meal, and Winona took another deep swig of butterbeer.

"Sit down, Harry," said Sirius as he too, entered the room. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus Fletcher – who Winona had been trying very hard to ignore – jerked awake with an unbecoming snort.

"Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I agree with Sirius…"

"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius with a companionable roll of his eyes at Winona as they all sat down around the table. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" grunted Mundungus, peering at Harry through his disgusting, matted hair. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah … you all right, 'arry?"

Harry looked surprised at the unexpected appearance. "Yeah," he said, insincere.

"He's fine," added Winona, voice like ice as she narrowed poisonous eyes at an awkward-looking Mundungus. "No thanks to you."

"Still on that, are we?" Mundungus murmured sourly as he fetched a grimy black pipe from the inside of his shabby robes. He began to smoke it with little regard for the kids in the room, or the meal they were about to eat. He caught sight of Winona's glare, and some of the sour indignation faded. "Owe you an apology," Mundungus began reluctantly.

"For the last time, Mundungus," snapped Mrs Weasley before the rat bastard could finish what was sure to be a very lacklustre apology, "will you _please_ not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right. Sorry, Molly."

The cloud of smoke vanished but the putrid smell of the green smoke remained, and Winona wrinkled her nose at him in disgust.

"And if you want dinner before midnight, I'll need a hand,'" Mrs Weasley said to the room. The others groaned and stood from their seats, but when Harry began to move, Mrs Weasley waved him back down. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey – you as well, Winona. You just have a rest."

Winona got the feeling this was Mrs Weasley's way of trying to apologise for the tension between them, and she found she couldn't deny her the opportunity. "Thanks, Mrs Weasley, but I'm fine. I'd like to help."

Mrs Weasley smiled, just a little bit tentative, and nodded for her to fetch enough goblets for them all from the pantry. She made her way over, nearly there when a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and yanked her into an alcove off the side of the kitchen. Winona tried not to yelp, especially when she realised who it was.

Fred was grinning down at her, relief in his cornflower eyes. "This was your special mission?" he asked, pressing her against the wall. Chills broke out across her skin, but they were definitely the good kind. "Fighting off a couple of dementors with Harry?"

"I like to live on the edge," she told him playfully, sliding her hands up the length of his chest until she could link her fingers behind his neck. "Thanks for lending me your broom."

"Lupin was the one who asked, and for a moment there I thought he wanted it for himself," he admitted. "Of course, once he mentioned your name, I was much more likely to give it up."

She hummed, swaying into him because she was helpless not to. "So selfless."

"That's what they call me," he said, distracted as his eyes strayed to her lips. "Selfless Fred."

"That's a terrible nickname."

"You got a better one?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

And so he did.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed; I know a lot of you were hoping for the trial in this one, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little while. **

**Also, I wanted to let you know that I'm going to be taking a few weeks break from posting. I want to focus on getting ahead in my writing of both this story and others, plus I have some personal things to deal with. This isn't a hiatus or anything; I have chapters in the wings and I plan on being back very soon, but for now, don't be surprised if I go a few weeks without updating. **

**If this is the first story of mine you've read, and you like my writing style, I'd encourage you to go check out one of my other stories, _Heart of the Storm, _particularly if you're a fan of OC Doctor Who fic. It's a monster of a piece, one I'm immensely proud of, and it should keep you busy while I'm away (plus I'm working very hard at the sequel at the moment, so you won't have to wait too long for more…).**

**Leave a review and let me know your thoughts on this one – we're officially at 1000 reviews, too, by the way! So thank you all, you're amazing. And if you have any questions about anything, how long I'll be gone, upcoming works, beta opportunities, etc., then shoot me a private message. I'll be happy to chat about it! xx**


	55. We're both Potters, y'know?

"Oh, _honestly_, you two!" Mrs Weasley's familiar voice shrieked, interrupting Winona and Fred's rare moment alone. "We're in the kitchen! We _eat_ in here! Can't you act proper for more than five minutes?!"

"Yeah, Fred," shouted George from where he was helping Ginny gather together their cutlery. "Keep it in your pants!"

"George!" Mrs Weasley squawked at her son's crass comment.

Groaning in disappointment, Fred reluctantly unwound his arms from around Winona's waist. She grinned at him, eyes glinting with a promise to pick up where they'd left off later. Unable to help herself, she pushed up into the tips of her toes to peck him once on the lips, then patted his freckled cheek and shuffled out of the alcove to join Mrs Weasley at the stove.

"Why don't you plate up the carrots, dear?" she suggested. Winona nodded, fetching a plate from the cupboard and doing as she was told.

She worked in easy quiet for a moment, then Mrs Weasley shrieked so loudly that Winona's ears rang, "NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

Knowing without turning that she was talking to the twins, Winona almost didn't look, dreading what she'd find. Only, the urge was impossible to resist and she couldn't help but glance up just in time to watch the large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard and knife shoot across the room, very nearly taking off Sirius and Harry's heads. They dashed out of the way just in time, and Mundungus collapsed to the floor, looking dazed.

Seeing nobody was hurt, Winona pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Across the room, Harry and Sirius were doing nothing to hide their own chuckles. Mrs Weasley, however, was not remotely amused.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" she screamed at her sons. "THERE WAS NO NEED – I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS – JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred argued, gripping the hilt of the knife that had embedded itself in the wood of the table and yanking. "Sorry, Sirius, mate – didn't mean to-"

His apology was cut off by more of Sirius' laughter. Fred grinned, always glad to be the cause of someone's laughter, but Mr Weasley agreed with his wife.

"Boys, your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age–"

"–none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley was still screeching at her sons, almost beyond reason. Winona frowned, considering stepping in, but Fred seemed to sense her thoughts and glanced to her with a short shake of his head. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy–!"

Mrs Weasley fell abruptly silent, tossing a frightened glance at her husband, whose expression had gone hard.

"Let's eat," said Bill quickly, in an attempt to cover the blunder.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," added Remus, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.

Winona helped bring a new flagon of butterbeer to the table, then looked for a place to sit. Her instinct was to go to Harry, but he was sat between Bill and Sirius, and so she turned to the seats remaining, taking one of the two open at the end of the table.

Ron pulled out the seat beside her, but in a flash Fred was there, slapping his younger brother upside the head. "Oi!" Ron cried, holding his head even as he obediently loped away, taking an open seat opposite them. Fred collapsed into the chair beside her, and she instantly rested a hand on his leg in comfortable hello. He shot her a tiny, secret grin, and even after all this time her heart still skipped a beat.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius," Mrs Weasley eventually said once they all had bowls of stew and the silence had dragged long enough to be awkward, "there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

Sirius was indifferent, as he usually was when it came to Mrs Weasley. They'd never quite seen eye to eye. "Whatever you like," he said with a shrug.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies, too," Mrs Weasley continued. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius, utterly dry, but Winona doubted Mrs Weasley caught the sarcasm. People tended to hear only what they wanted to hear.

Bill, Mr Weasley and Lupin began a boring conversation about goblin politics down the other end of the table, and Tonks began to entertain Hermione and Ginny with pig snouts and duck bills.

"How's business, Dung?" Fred asked around his mouthful. Fred wasn't quite as anti-Mundungus as Winona was. He and George thought the guy was funny, which made him alright in their books. Honestly, Winona didn't have a problem with him other than the fact he'd abandoned Harry to make little more than a few extra quid. And anyone who put her cousin in unnecessary danger was _not_ alright in _her_ books.

Still, she couldn't deny he was an entertaining guy, so when he sat up, ready to regale them with stories from his less-than-legal business dealings, Winona had to admit she was interested.

"You'll never guess wha' 'appened yesterday," Mundungus began, all but abandoning his food to tell them his story. Winona tried to keep her face neutral as he spoke matter-of-factly about stealing some poor bloke's knot of toads, but when he got to the part about selling them back to him for double the price, Winona couldn't help but break.

Laughter poured from her and the twins, and Ron had tears running down his face, pounding his fist against the table in amusement. Fred had lost the plot, too, collapsing into her side so she had to hole him upright through her own gasping giggles.

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley interjected sharply, just as her youngest son slumped forwards onto the table, howling with laughter.

"Beg pardon, Molly," said Mundungus around a cough, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry across the table, who was staring at them with a peculiar look on his face. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em off Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong–"

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley said coldly, sending a nasty look at Sirius before stepping away from the table, heading back into the kitchen corner of the room to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding.

Winona half wanted to tell Mrs Weasley to lighten up, but she didn't need to be a Seer to know that would go about as well as a nun in a whorehouse. She settled for frowning, some of her mirth dissolved, and casting a look up the table at her cousin and father.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius was telling Harry in an undertone that Winona could only just hear.

"How come he's in the Order?" Harry asked just as quietly. Mr Weasley, Bill and Remus had returned to their stimulating conversation about wizard-goblin relations, and the twins had launched into dramatic soliloquies about Will and his knot of stolen toads, leaving Winona free to eavesdrop on her family.

"He's useful," Sirius told Harry with a considering glance at the wizard in question. "Knows all the crooks – well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you. Neither has Winnie, by the way, but I think she's retained the ability to see the lighter side of things."

Winona stared down into her empty bowl, pushing around the few pieces of carrot and meat that she hadn't eaten. Mrs Weasley returned with the rhubarb crumble and custard, dishing it out for everyone – even Mundungus, although his portion was significantly smaller than anybody else's.

Eventually even the dessert was gone, leaving them with full bellies and yawns bubbling up from their chests. Winona leaned back in her chair, holding Fred's hand underneath the table, feeling nearly lulled to sleep by the slow brush of his thumb against her skin.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley said during a natural lull in conversation.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. Winona immediately felt a swoop in her gut and she went rigid in her seat. Something bad was coming, and to Winona it was rather like staring at a train wreck happening in slow motion.

Whatever her dad was going to say wasn't going to be particularly pleasant, but yet she trusted him. And maybe, although they wouldn't enjoy it, it would end up being necessary. Gripping Fred's hand tight, she forced herself to relax.

"You know, I'm surprised at you, Harry," said Sirius mildly. "I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. One moment things were light and easy, and in the next it was like the air had been sucked from the room, leaving them all holding their breath, waiting for the air to return.

All the adults had turned wary, but none more so than Winona, who watched everyone closely. She felt out of control – because whatever was said tonight, it wouldn't be by her. She couldn't reveal any of Dumbledore's – or the Order's – secrets. _Literally_ on pain of death.

"I did!" cried Harry, going from sleepy to indignant in a heartbeat. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order-"

"And they're quite right," snapped Mrs Weasley, trying to put an end to it. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius countered smartly. Mrs Weasley's mouth resembled a thin line, and Winona wondered what she was trying to keep herself from saying. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happening-"

"Hang on!" George said loudly, heedless of propriety. Winona let go of Fred's hand so she could wring her own together anxiously beneath the table. This wasn't going to be pretty, she could feel it in her bones.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" Fred agreed, staring angrily at the adults around him. Fred had been remarkably good at not asking Winona a single question about anything to do with the Order – which was understandable, considering if she said so much as a wrong word, she could cease to be altogether – but when it came to getting answers out of the others, he was hardly as restrained.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"_You're too young, you're not in the Order,_" said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded remarkably like his mother's. Winona knew he and George had gone through a mimicking phase as kids. They'd gotten it down to a fine art. "That's such bollocks! Winona's our age, and _she's_ in the order! And Harry's not even seventeen yet!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing,' said Sirius calmly, refusing to rise to the bait, "that's your parents' decision. You know why Winona's different, Fred. And Harry, on the other hand–"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs Weasley sharply.

"Who says it isn't?" Winona snapped. She couldn't reveal anything about the Order, but she sure as hell wasn't going to stay silent on the matter. "He's Harry's Godfather – that makes him Harry's legal guardian. And if that wasn't enough, he's my dad, making him Harry's uncle, too. If anybody in this room has a say in what's good for Harry, it's him."

Mrs Weasley looked stunned by the argument. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting Winona to speak up. Her mouth flapped a moment, speechless. "But-but Sirius and Jessica were never _married_-"

"Are you saying marriage is the only thing that makes a family real?" Winona countered without missing a beat.

Seeming to sense this wasn't an argument she was going to win, Mrs Weasley changed tactics. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?" she asked quickly, shrewd eyes flickering between Sirius and his obstinate daughter.

"Which bit?" Sirius asked with faux politeness coating his tone. He was sitting tense in his seat, like a man ready for a fight, and if Winona weren't so heated, she might have laughed at the mental image of her dad and Mrs Weasley battling it out, _Rocky Balboa_ style.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he _needs to know_," Mrs Weasley said tersely.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," Sirius assured her with hard eyes. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he has more right than most to-"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley said shrilly. "He's only fifteen and-"

"–and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Sirius, "and more than some-"

"No one's denying what he's done!" snapped Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still-"

"He's not a child!" argued Sirius impatiently.

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs Weasley, cheeks bright red. "He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius' entire being went rigid, and his hard eyes turned cold. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," he said, voice edged with steel.

"I'm not sure you are!" squawked Mrs Weasley. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" demanded Harry. The entire table stared between them, stunned into silence as they watched the verbal tennis match. Winona wasn't breathing, and she felt Fred's hand on her leg, holding tight, a reassuring weight.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are _not_ your father, however much you might look like him!" Mrs Weasley said sharply, without looking away from Sirius. "You are still at school and the adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising. Winona went even more rigid, pulse loud in her ears.

Mrs Weasley didn't back down, even though Winona now wished she would. "Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and-"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley, rounding on her husband. "Arthur, back me up!"

Mr Weasley took a few long moments to speak, taking the time to clean off his glasses on his robes, chewing carefully on his words before speaking them aloud. "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at headquarters-"

Mrs Weasley sat up straight, glaring at her husband with betrayal. Clearly she'd been expecting him to be firmly on her side. Winona was relieved he wasn't. "Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"

"Harry has a _right_ to ask questions," Winona snapped, the words burning hot on her tongue. "If we can't answer them, we can be honest about that. He's mature enough to understand."

"You, little miss, will not be answering _any_ questions – or have you forgotten your Vow to Dumbledore?"

Winona was grinding her teeth so hard she could feel an ache building behind her eyes. "Don't talk to her that way," said Sirius before Winona could snap back, his voice like ice. Mrs Weasley looked surprised by the reaction.

"Personally," said Lupin quietly, dissolving some of the tension that had gathered in the air, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts – not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture – from us, rather than a garbled version from…others."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, 'well…I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart-"

"He's not your son," said Sirius, quiet but certainly not soft.

"He's as good as," Mrs Weasley said fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

Deeply offended, Winona felt her skin grow hot, and she knew she must have turned red. "He's got me!" shouted Sirius.

"And _me_!" Winona added, the words like daggers. She was horrified when her eyes began to burn – but the tears weren't of sadness. Rather, they were a hot anger, the kind that settled under her skin like magma under the earth's crust.

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley, her lip curling in an expression that was so unlike herself that Winona felt almost scared, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Sirius began to stand from his chair, and Winona blew her top. "Don't you _dare_-" she snarled, cut off by Fred's hand on her arm, pulling her backwards as if to keep her from hitting someone. Which was fair, because she did have a bit of a violent history.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Remus sharply, eyeing them all sternly. "Sirius, sit down. And Winona, take a breath."

Eyes flew to her, and she did as she was told, hating the way her eyes glittered with traitorous tears. Mrs Weasley glanced at her, and Winona watched as regret flickered over her face at finding her so upset. _Good_, Winona thought bitterly, _let her feel guilty_.

Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white. He glanced at Winona, but she was staring hard at the table, trying to keep the tears from spilling down her face. Fred's hand left her arm, moving instead to her back, beginning to trace his fingertips over the ridges of her spine, a soothing, repetitive motion that was meant to relax her, but didn't have much effect.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continued wisely, "he's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said without so much as a moment's hesitation.

"As is his _right_," added Winona, looking up at Mrs Weasley, thunder in her stormy eyes.

"Very well," said Mrs Weasley, her voice cracking. "Ginny–Ron–Hermione–Fred–George–I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was instant uproar, just as Winona knew there would be.

"We're of age!" George bellowed hotly.

"You're mental if you think I'm leaving Winnie alone with you!" added Fred, just as fierce. Mrs Weasley looked momentarily stunned by the force of the statement, but everyone else was shouting and it got buried under the tidal wave of noise.

"NO!" Mrs Weasley shouted, standing up with the loud groan of her chair's legs against the floor, her eyes bright with angry tears. "I absolutely forbid-"

"Molly you can't stop Fred and George," said Mr Weasley. Winona looked at him properly – he seemed tired, and for the first time she noticed that he looked much older than he had last time she'd seen him. As if everything that had happened in the last few months had aged him terribly. "They're of age-"

"They're still at school!"

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr Weasley, in the same, tired voice.

Mrs Weasley was now bright red in the face. She looked around the table, searching for support, but again she found nobody on her side. "Oh, all right then," she relented, "Fred and George can stay, but Ron-"

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron insisted. "Won't – won't you?" he added, looking over at Harry, suddenly uncertain.

"Course I will," said Harry without hesitation.

Ron and Hermione slumped with relief, grinning at Harry happily.

"Fine!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, at her wits' end. "Fine! Ginny – BED!"

Ginny tore off in a furious rage with Mrs Weasley at her heels, so loud and uncouth that Mrs Black's portrait awoke to add her screeches of ire to the mix. Remus leapt to his feet, rushing off to shut her grandmother up, and Winona took the brief break in conversation to slump in her seat and scrub angrily at her wet eyes.

Fred's hand smoothed up and down her back, and he inched his chair closer to hers. "All right?" he asked, warm breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. Winona just scrubbed harder at her eyes. "Sorry about mum. She shouldn't have said those things," he whispered.

"You don't need to apologise for her, Fred," she told him, gripping his leg under the table, the heat of his skin through his jeans a steady comfort. "She can do it for herself once she's taken her head out of her arse."

Fred made a face, but didn't disagree.

Remus reappeared, closing the kitchen door softly behind him and taking his seat at the table again.

A moment of quiet, and then Sirius finally spoke. "Okay, Harry," he said with more patience and compassion than Mrs Weasley had shown all night. "What do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort?" Harry asked bluntly, ignoring the way the whole room winced. "What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything-"

"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway… And we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," said Remus with a knowing glance at Winona. She met his eyes without smiling, before turning her gaze back to Harry, watching him carefully.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry wondered. Winona had to hand it to him – it was a valid opening question.

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," said Sirius. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," added Remus.

Harry stared at them like they'd just told him he'd been chosen to play the lead in the latest performance of Swan Lake. "How?" he asked, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive," said Sirius. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," added Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?" Harry asked, sounding confused. Winona raised her eyebrows at him – she dared not say anything for risk of betraying her vow, but she could usually communicate with her cousin through facial expressions alone. For now, that would have to be enough.

"Are you kidding?" Bill scoffed incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of."

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," Sirius told Harry, a proud look on his face that made Winona's chest ache.

"So, what's the Order been doing?" asked Harry desperately. He was so relieved to finally be getting some answers, that now the questions were bubbling out of him like overcooked potion.

Sirius paused a moment, considering how to word his answer. "Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans."

"How d'you know what his plans are?" Harry asked quickly. His eyes quickly flickered to his Winona. "Have you been keeping an eye on it for them?" he asked eagerly. "Is that why you're in the Order?"

"Best not to ask Winnie any questions directly, Harry," Sirius told him carefully.

Befuddled, Harry turned to him. "Why not?"

For a moment nobody answered. Winona scowled so hard she gave herself a headache. "She can't tell you anything," Sirius finally told him. "It's complicated as to why."

"It was the price to being in the Order," Winona told Harry heedlessly. Sirius, Remus, Fred and George all winced the moment she opened her mouth. But Winona knew the boundaries of her Vow – she knew what she could and could not say. And Harry deserved to hear this from her. "I can't tell you anything. I wish I could, but I can't."

Harry gaped at her a moment, betrayed, and Winona winced under his cool emerald stare. "You agreed to that?" he finally asked, disbelieving.

She levelled him with a heartfelt look, eyes still shining from their fight with Mrs Weasley. "Better one of us works from the inside," she told him, trying to appeal to his reason, "no matter the cost."

Fred's hand found its way onto her thigh again. There was nothing sexual about the touch. He just held his hand there, rubbing the smallest of circles through the fabric of her jeans. Harry continued to stare at her and Winona hated the way it made her eyes sting more. She'd expected him to be upset – but so angry he couldn't speak to her? She hadn't thought it would be that bad.

Why could she never See the things that mattered to _her_?

"Winnie isn't our only insight into the Death Eaters' movements," said Remus, breaking the tense silence that had befallen the room.

Winona broke her hurt stare with Harry, turning to look at Fred instead. He was frowning, but when he saw her looking her smiled. Not his wide, wicked grin, and not his cheesy beam either. This was soft; sad; concerned. It made her heart ache more.

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," Remus continued, capturing Harry's attention, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

Harry shifted in his seat. "So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

A moment of quiet as those in the Order weighed their words cautiously. "Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," Sirius finally said, taking great care with what they were giving away – for more reasons than one. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

Winona vision flickered, but she ignored it, pushing the vision away with everything she had. Whatever the aether wanted her to See, it could wait. This was more important.

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?" Harry asked, leaning forwards in his seat, hanging on every piece of information they gave him – the first real information he'd gotten his hands on in over a month.

Remus shifted where he sat, eyes darting from Sirius to Winona and back again. "We're doing our best," he said tactfully.

But Harry's curiosity wasn't to be deterred. "How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill was the one to speak now, arms crossed over his chest, shaggy hair hanging in his face, although he didn't seem to notice. "It's proving tricky, though."

Winona scoffed. "Understatement," she muttered. Remus sent her a warning look while Sirius just scoffed in agreement.

Harry was confused. "Why?"

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," Tonks spoke up – she was an Auror with the Ministry. If anyone had the authority to comment, it was her. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why?" Harry asked desperately.

"Uh, because he's a cock?" Winona chimed snidely. The twins let out loud guffaws at her typical mouthiness, and Tonks joined in. Mr Weasley sent her a scolding look that had no effect, and Harry pressed on, ignoring her – which hurt more than she'd have liked to admit.

"Why's he being so stupid?" he demanded. "If Dumbledore-"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," Mr Weasley interjected, grim amusement in his tired eyes. "_Dumbledore._"

"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," added Tonks, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

Harry was incredulous. "Frightened of Dumbledore?" he asked, as if he'd never heard anything more stupid.

Mr Weasley leaned forwards in his chair, picking up his goblet of butterbeer and taking a deep drink before answering. "Frightened of what he's up to. Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic."

Her cousin's eyes went wide at the absurdity of it all. "But Dumbledore doesn't want-"

"Of course he doesn't," said Mr Weasley. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired."

Winona grimaced at the sound of her name. Millicent Bagnold was the Minister for Magic when her mother had been killed and her dad had been sent to Azkaban without a trial. Bagnold was the reason Winona had been dropped into the foster system. She was the reason Winona had lived her whole life under the shadow of a lie. All because she'd thought it was _for the best._

Winona hoped she never came face to face with the woman. She certainly couldn't be held responsible for her actions if she ever did.

"Fudge came to power instead," Mr Weasley continued, oblivious to Winona's bitter, internal tangent, "but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," said Remus quietly, eyes distant as he thought of a time long since passed. "But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry demanded angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up – that _I'd_ make it all up?"

Winona looked at Harry again. He sounded so young in that moment, like a child learning the world was a cruel place, and wondering why nobody ever did anything about it. Winona wondered if she'd ever been that child.

Probably not; she'd always been a cynic. Even as a kid.

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said her dad bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him."

"You see the problem," said Remus in his usual, quiet way. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

Harry was beginning to look desperate, and maybe a tiny bit crazed. "But you're telling people, aren't you?" he asked, looking at all the adults imploringly. "You're letting people know he's back?"

Everybody smiled, but it was without a hint of humour. Winona's lips curled up too, bitterness curling in her stomach.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" asked Sirius, sounding so bitter and defeated that Winona suddenly realised he wasn't handling this as well as he seemed.

Sometimes she didn't really see things as well as she should, particularly for a Seer.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community. It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf," added Remus, eyes on a knot in the wood of the table.

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

Harry turned to Winona, and she was so surprised that she started, blinking at him like a deer in the headlights. "People will listen to _you_, won't they?" he asked quickly. "From what I've gathered over the years, Seers are kind of a big deal in the Wizarding world."

Nobody said anything, and Winona knew she needed to be the one to tell him. "Sirius isn't the only one with a price on his head," she told Harry gently. "You-Know-Who wants me – maybe even more than he wants you, at this point, albeit for very different reasons. I can't go making noise. Not now; it's too dangerous."

Harry looked skeptical. "When has that ever stopped you?"

It felt vaguely hostile, but Mr Weasley swooped in before Winona had a chance to figure out how to react.

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though. Tonks here, for one – she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage – Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back-" Harry began passionately.

"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" countered Sirius. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're trying to discredit him," said Remus. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot – that's the Wizard High Court – and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," added Bill with a wide, mirthful grin. Winona, now tracing patterns onto the back of Fred's hand, managed a soft smirk. She remembered that day – it was probably the only time she'd laughed during an Order meeting.

Mr Weasley, however, didn't feel as fond. "It's no laughing matter," he said sharply. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way – well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

It was a humbling thought. Right now, as the pieces were stood, the only thing standing between You-Know-Who and total control was one man. Winona remembered the day back in her first year, when she'd drawn Dumbledore dead.

She hadn't been sure then, when it would come to pass. But it was almost as if something inside of her had been counting off the days. Like some part of her knew his days were numbered. Some part of her knew the time when they'd have to learn to make do without Dumbledore was on the horizon.

And she wished it didn't terrify her to pieces.

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" Harry asked, desperate for to find traction in the topic. He couldn't fathom nobody believing him about this – because why in Merlin's name would he lie? Winona wondered if he'd ever become as jaded as she was with the world. Then hoped he wouldn't.

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry," said Sirius with the tiniest hint of a smile. "He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."

They were getting into dangerous territory now. Winona found herself holding her breath once more.

Harry leaned forwards in his seat, sure he was on the edge of some great revelation. Something that would make sense of this whole mess. "What's he after, apart from followers?" he asked them intently.

Sirius glanced at Winona. Their eyes met, but Winona neither nodded nor shook her head. She couldn't sway him – it was too close to revealing the secrets she'd vowed to keep hidden. But if Sirius wanted to tell Harry on his own – well then, that had nothing whatsoever to do with her, did it?

Sirius looked away again, back at Harry, and now Winona wasn't just holding her breath. She couldn't even breathe at all. "Stuff he can only get by stealth," Sirius told Harry slowly, choosing his words with great care. Harry just looked confused, struggling to connect the dots. Winona couldn't blame him – they weren't exactly numbered. "Like a weapon," Sirius pressed gently. "Something he didn't have last time."

Harry cocked his head. "When he was powerful before?"

A beat. "Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra–?"

"That's enough!"

Mrs Weasley had reappeared, stepping form the shadows with a wrathful look on her rounded face. Winona grit her teeth, looking deliberately away. She wasn't interested in interacting with Mrs Weasley right now – or possibly ever again.

"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she continued sternly, looking at the twins, Ron and Hermione.

Fred bristled at Winona's side, his hand leaving her thigh to ball into fists on top of the table. "You can't boss us-"

"Watch me," snarled Mrs Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius, venom in her eyes. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not?" Harry exclaimed without a hint of hesitation. "I'll join. I _want_ to join, I want to _fight_."

"No."

To Winona's surprise, it wasn't Mrs Weasley who had said it, but rather Remus. She glanced at him, finding him with a frown on his scarred face, shaggy hair falling into his eyes.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," he said, sounding perfectly reasonable, even if his words were something of a stab in the back. "Wizards who have left school," he added as the twins opened their mouths to argue. They cried out in more protest. "Wizards who have left school and aren't Winona Black," he elaborated with the exhaustion of an overworked teacher. Despite her irritation, Winona couldn't help but smirk, a hollow expression. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you… I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough."

Pleased to finally have her way, Mrs Weasley looked sternly at her sons and Hermione, beckoning them out of the kitchen and up to the higher floors where their rooms waited.

Winona turned to her dad, opening her mouth, only for Mrs Weasley to speak over her. "You too, Winona. Bed time."

Resentment towards Mrs Weasley curdled in her gut, and Winona looked to Sirius pleadingly. He smiled, apologetic. "Go get some rest, Pup," he told her quietly. "We can talk in the morning."

Winona relented with a sigh, pushing back her chair and climbing to her feet. Fred was there to take her hand, intertwining their fingers as they made their way up the stairs, Mrs Weasley hovering over them like a watchful gargoyle, stern and grim.

"I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking," she said as they reached the first landing. "We've got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny's asleep, so try not to wake her up," she added to Hermione, who made a face that was very unlike her.

"Asleep? Yeah, right," Fred murmured to the rest of them as Hermione slipped into her room and they made their way up the next flight of stairs. "If Ginny's not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs, then I'm a Flobberworm…"

"All right, Ron, Harry," said Mrs Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. "Off to bed with you."

"Night," Harry and Ron said to Winona and the twins.

But so much had happened tonight; Winona wanted the chance to speak to Harry plainly, without anybody else around to interrupt or listen in. "Actually, Harry, I thought we could take a moment-"

"Not tonight, Winona," said Mrs Weasley sternly. "It's time for bed."

Frustration and resentment bubbling in her gut like an overcooked potion, Winona whirled around on her. "I can speak to him if I want to," she snapped. "You're not our mother."

Mrs Weasley looked vaguely surprised that Winona had spoken back to her like that – and maybe a little bit hurt – but even still, her eyes tightened and she seemed to clench her jaw. "Bed, Winona," she said strictly. "_Now_."

Winona glared at her a moment, the anger in her gut hot and impossible to ignore. A terrible slew of insults and cruel replies burning on her tongue. Fred squeezed her hand tightly, and Harry spoke up before she could pick something to say.

"It's fine, Winnie," said her cousin, sounding resigned. She glanced over at him, but he didn't look tired at all. His eyes were wide open and sparkling with questions she knew he was just dying to ask. But there had been enough turmoil in Grimmauld Place for one night, and they both knew it. "It's late. We can talk in the morning."

Still, she was stubborn to a fault. "But-"

"Winona," said Mrs Weasley sternly, no give to her voice.

Clenching her jaw hard enough to hurt, Winona ripped her hand out of Fred's and spun so violently on her heel that her long hair nearly slapped Mrs Weasley across the face. "Fine," she snapped indignantly. "No need to escort me to my prison cell. I think I can find my way there well enough alone."

She didn't say another word to anybody else. She just stormed her way up the stairs, leaving the twins to deal with their mother.

Two flights of stairs later, Winona reached the fourth floor of her family's townhouse and stomped into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. She had the violent urge to break something, but managed to restrain herself. It would do her no good, and she'd acted out enough for one night.

Grinding her teeth together, Winona scowled as she mechanically got changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an old _Guns N' Roses_ teeshirt. She yanked a brush through her hair on autopilot, then made her way to the bathroom she shared with Sirius to brush her teeth.

Seeing herself in the mirror, Winona thought she looked half crazed. Eyes wild and hair crackling with her emotionally-fuelled magic, she was almost a little bit afraid of herself. Spitting her toothpaste into the sink, she rinsed out her mouth then braced her hands on either side of the basin, forcing herself to take a few long, deep breaths. It had been a rough night, to say the least, and she was left feeling drained.

The anger began to slowly drain away, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion, and with a heaving sigh she made her way back to her room. Sirius' door was still open, his room empty, and she assumed he was still down in the kitchen with Remus, debriefing after the night. She hated to think they were talking about her, but it was likely they were.

And she couldn't really blame them. She'd acted like a petulant child. Then again, so had Harry. What a pair they made.

It wasn't until she'd shut and bolted the door to her bedroom that she realised she wasn't alone. Fred was reclined on her bed, dressed in an old Holyhead Harpies teeshirt and his golden snitch boxers, hands folded behind his head as he watched her.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, even as relief seeped into her veins like a drug. She made her way towards him, not a single moment of hesitation as she climbed onto the bed with him and immediately wrapped her arms around his middle. Resting her head on his wiry chest, she threaded their legs together and felt no shame in breathing in his familiar, chaotic scent.

"Thought you could use the company," he told her quietly, arms wrapping around her in return, his chin resting easily on the crown of her head. "Are you okay?"

Winona didn't answer him, she just squeezed him tighter and nuzzled her face into his neck, as if maybe if she tried hard enough, she could escape inside of him, where she knew she could never be anything other than content.

"Sorry about Mum," he whispered, hand coming up to slowly brush through her hair. "She's just doing what she thinks is best – for all of us."

"She's wrong," Winona said into his skin.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But you can't deny she cares about you. Otherwise why would she bother at all?"

And she hated that he had a point. She made a face against his collarbone, and he chuckled when he felt her expression scrunch against his skin. "I care about her, too," she told him, barely a whisper, as if she didn't want anyone to hear her admit it. Not even the universe. "But she doesn't get to tell me what I can and can't do. Especially when it comes to Harry."

Fred ran his fingers through her hair again, and it felt so soothing that her eyes fluttered shut. "I know," he said placatingly.

They laid in silence for a few moments, his fingers carding through her hair, soft and constant. "What're you going to do if she finds out you're here with me?" Winona whispered eventually.

"I'm not going to do anything. We're adults, and you've had a huge day. You could use a friendly face. Besides, it's not like we're doing anything _untoward_," he said playfully as the hand not in her hair playfully pinched the skin at her hip.

Winona giggled into his neck, marvelling at how Fred could make the world seem kind, even when it sometimes felt like it was against her in every way possible. He made everything he touched better – including her. And she loved him so much she found it hard to breathe.

"We _could_ do something…untoward," she suggested, overcome by affection as she pushed up onto her elbow to look him in the face.

Fred grinned even as he shook his head. "Sleep time," he said, pulling her back down into his side and shuffling them both down further into her bed. "We can get frisky another day."

"_Frisky_?" she giggled.

Fred's only answer was a snort and a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Winona stayed wrapped around him another long minute until finally she knew she had to get to sleep. She reluctantly got up to turn off the light, then they climbed under the covers and she wrapped around him like a pretzel, breathing in his earthy, ashy scent and letting the steady thump of his heart lull her to sleep.

* * *

Fred snuck back down to his own room in the early hours of the morning, before anybody was awake to catch him. Winona slept some more, waking up to Ginny knocking on her bedroom door to let her know breakfast was ready.

Winona got ready for the day, changing into jeans and a loose, woollen jumper, then braiding her hair against her head before making her way down the stairs for food. She fell still, however, when she reached Harry and Ron's shared room on the second floor.

Ron was nowhere in sight, and Harry was sitting on his bed, tying the laces of his old sneakers.

With no Mrs Weasley in sight, it was a golden opportunity. One she didn't intend to waste. Slipping inside the tiny room, Winona shut the door behind her with a soft click and Harry looked up in surprise. To her relief, he didn't seem annoyed to find it was her. If anything, he actually looked rather relieved, and she realised he must have been just as eager to speak with her as she had been to speak with him.

"Morning," she said, keeping her voice low. She knew from experience that Mrs Weasley would be down in the basement, fussing about with breakfast and making sure nobody was saying anything they shouldn't be. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough," Harry told her. "Weird dreams, though."

She frowned. "The foreboding kind?"

To her relief, he shook his head. "Just weird. I think this house is getting to me."

"Yeah," she agreed, casting the room a look. She hadn't been inside this bedroom before. The walls were grimy and peeling, and the light fittings were made of dark metal, twisted up into the shape of hissing serpents. "This place kind of freaked me out at first, too."

Harry said nothing, giving the room another look, a grimace at home on his face.

"Weird to think this is our family's house, isn't it?" she mused.

"Well, _your_ family, maybe."

Hurt by the comment, Winona looked at him, eyes big and glinting sadly in the low light of the room. "My family _is_ your family, Harry," she told him. "My last name might be Black, but we're both _Potters_, y'know."

Harry sighed, and she watched as he crossed his arms, chewing on his words before speaking them. "I know," he finally said, so quiet she nearly missed it. "It just didn't feel that way. I mean, the two of you have been here having a right old time as a family without me."

Winona took a deep breath, collapsing onto the bed Harry had stood from. "I wanted you here – we both did. It was Dumbledore who said you couldn't-"

"And you listened?" Harry asked, a little louder than before. Now he sounded angry. "Since when do you do as you're told?"

And she knew she had to be honest with him about the Vow. It was the only way he'd ever be able to understand why she – of all people, the only blood relative he had left – would keep secrets from him. Secrets he knew in his heart that he deserved to know.

"Remember when I said, last night, that I'd made a vow to Dumbledore, in return for being allowed in the Order?" she began gently. Harry stared at her, arms crossed over his chest, hanging on every word. "It wasn't any old promise, Harry. I made an Unbreakable Vow."

Now he frowned. "What's an Unbreakable Vow?"

"It's a spell – a magical oath that one person makes to another. Harry, if I break this Vow, I _die_."

Harry stared at her, vaguely horrified.

"Do you see now?" she asked desperately.

"Why would Dumbledore ever ask you to do that? And why in the hell would you _agree_?"

And Winona knew, this she could answer truthfully. "Because I was honest with him," she confessed. "I warned him that no matter how sincere of a promise I made, keeping secrets from you was something I couldn't do. Thus: the Vow. It was the only way to ensure I'd keep my word and not tell you anything."

Harry grew frustrated. "But why d'you have to be in the Order at all?"

The look she sent him was patient, and he grimaced, already knowing the answer. Nonetheless, she told him. "They need me. I can see the future, Harry. Do you have any idea what an asset that is in a war? Besides, I meant what I said. One of us has to work from the inside."

Harry stared at her, saying nothing, and she pressed on.

"You don't know most of the Order; which means you don't trust them. But I think you trust me – at least, I hope you do. And I'm always on your side Harry, no matter what. My priority is to protect you, and win this war for the good of us all. Wouldn't you rather I was in it, doing what I could from the inside? Because if you can't join, then aren't I the next best thing?"

Winona saw the moment he agreed with her point. His rigid shoulders slumped and the hands he'd balled into fists relaxed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "You're right." He looked up from the floor, meeting her eyes. "You'll really die if you tell me anything?"

She nodded her head gravely.

"Can you tell me _anything_ at all?" he asked with just a hint of desperation.

When Winona smiled, it was grim. "A little; not much. I have to be careful. But don't worry, I spend most of my time in the meetings arguing that you're to be told what's going on. I think I'm getting on some people's nerves by going on about it, actually."

It was enough to draw a small smile from her cousin, and Winona stood to her feet, inching closer to him. He was an inch or so taller than her now, and it was a bittersweet feeling to have to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

She remembered when they'd first met; him a tiny little kid with glasses too big for his face, and her with silver hair and a tongue too sharp for her own good. They'd been so different then, so oblivious to the future they were hurtling towards. She wondered what she'd tell those two kids, if she could go back. Would she warn them about the turmoil coming? Or would she simply let them remain blissful in their ignorance?

"I'm really sorry that it's happening this way, Harry," she told him, reaching for his hands. His skin was cold, and she squeezed them both, smiling hesitantly. "But please know, I'm doing this _for_ you."

Harry looked a little bit stunned by her heartfelt admission, and he looked away a moment, gathering himself. "Yeah," he finally said, voice thick. "I know."

She let go of his hands and instead wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pushing up onto her toes to squeeze him tightly. "And you're part of this family," she said into his ear as his arms hesitantly wrapped around her middle in return. "Say it, Harry." Harry said nothing, and she pulled back, looking at him sternly. "Say it."

"Winnie…"

"I know it looks a little unconventional, but a family _can_ be an escaped convict; his illegitimate, future-seeing daughter; her mouthy, four-eyed cousin; and a hippogriff with a fake identity."

It was just enough to make Harry smile. "You're counting Buckbeak?"

"Sirius loves him," she said with a grin. "He'd be offended if I didn't."

Harry shook his head, and she unwrapped her arms from around his neck, stepping back and smiling at him sweetly.

"You're not angry?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he said, voice small. "Just…tired."

It made her frown, but before she could ask what he meant, the floorboards outside his room creaked and the door burst open to reveal Mrs Weasley in the doorway, hands on her hips. She looked displeased to find them talking alone, as if they were doing something wrong, and indignation reared its head in Winona.

Mrs Weasley attempted a smile, but the disapproval in her eyes was impossible to mask. She opened the door wider, waving them out. "You'd best come down and have some breakfast before it's all gone," she said, forcing a light tone that neither of them bought.

Winona said nothing, she simply squeezed Harry's arm, a silent acknowledgement, then ducked past a frowning Mrs Weasley and made her way down the stairs without a word. Winona heard Harry and Mrs Weasley speaking in low voices as she left, but she didn't bother to stick around to eavesdrop. Let them say what they wanted – Winona was beyond caring.

The kitchen was abuzz with activity. Sirius and Remus were sat at the far end of the table, mugs of steaming coffee in front of them both. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the twins were all eating the crepes Mrs Weasley had made for breakfast, chatter coming easily, while Mr Weasley and Bill were discussing something in undertones over the top of a copy of the day's _Prophet._

Winona took the empty seat between Fred and Hermione. She kissed Fred's cheek in good morning, then piled her plate high without a word. They were all talking about the latest _Celestina Warbeck_ song. Ginny was passionate about how awful the woman's voice was, and the twins were making quiet fun of their mother's blind love of the woman.

"Did you sleep well?" Hermione asked her softly, not knowing who Celestina Warbeck was, but also no caring enough to figure it out. Winona nodded, piling her crepes high with strawberries and shovelling them into her mouth at a truly concerning speed. "You spoke with Harry this morning?"

Winona nodded again. "Yeah; we cleared the air. Went well, until _their_ mother burst in and demanded we come down here," she muttered, jerking a chin at Fred and George, who were by now doing an overdramatic recreation of Warbeck's newest song, much to Ginny and Ron's delight.

"You can't stay mad at her forever," said Hermione gently.

"Watch me."

Hermione sighed, a soft sound, and put down her cutlery with a quiet clink. "You're angry, and I know why. I'd be angry too, in your position. But she's only doing what she thinks is right."

"Well, she's wrong," said Winona stubbornly, jabbing at a blueberry with her fork.

"Maybe," agreed Hermione. "But don't you think that, in this situation, right and wrong is just a matter of perspective?"

Winona pulled a face and stuffed her mouth with more food to avoid having to answer.

Harry and Mrs Weasley reappeared. Harry made a beeline for the empty chair on Ron's left, and Fred and George pulled Winona into a quiet conversation about the latest batch of _Prophet_ orders.

Knowing their mother never read the Daily Prophet anymore, they'd been able to slip an advertisement into the paper with a little of the gold Harry had given them. They were now selling their Skiving Snackbox range through mail-order, and so far it had been wildly successful.

Mrs Weasley had no idea, of course, and if they wanted to keep doing it, things had to stay that way.

At some point Mr Weasley and Bill stood to their feet, bidding them all goodbye as they had to get going to be at work on time. Winona knocked fists will Bill as he passed, and he gave a grin that reminded her of Fred for a flash before he ducked out after his dad.

"All right," said Mrs Weasley eventually, once everyone had finished their breakfast and were sipping on warm cups of tea and coffee. She clapped her hands once to gain everyone's attention, and once she had, she pasted a wide smile onto her face that nobody believed. "Now, there's a rather large infestation of doxies in the drawing room that needs to be taken care of. I'm going to need all of you to help."

There was a series of groans from around the table, and Winona sank down in her seat, trying not to glower.

"I have plenty of Doxycide, but we'll need to cover our faces when we use it," she continued as though oblivious to the room's annoyance. "I've got tea towels for all of you. Come on, now," she prompted them. With great reluctance, the kids all stood to their feet. Winona did so too, gritting her teeth in frustration.

"Actually, Pup, you get a free pass for the day," said Sirius, and she looked over at him in surprise.

Mrs Weasley bristled where she was stood impatiently in the doorway. "Winona needs to pull her weight just as much as the rest of the children, Sirius-"

"Not today she doesn't," he interrupted her bluntly, his voice just barely scraping civil. "Orders from Dumbledore. He wants a meditation session."

Winona groaned, and Harry turned to them in confusion. "What's a meditation session?"

"It's what they call it when they have me scan the future," she told Harry freely. It wasn't exactly a secret, and even if it was, fuck it all, anyway. "Dumbledore likes to have me on alert; particularly if we have intel about something happening in Death Eater circles-"

"That's quite enough, Winona," snapped Mrs Weasley. "Why don't you go get started, then come down to help once you're finished?"

She began to shoo her children, Harry and Hermione out of the kitchen. Fred gave a playful whine and she blew him a kiss in return. Once the group was gone, corralled upstairs by an obstinate Mrs Weasley, Winona collapsed back into her chair. The only ones left in the room were Remus and her dad, and they looked at her with something dangerously close to pity.

"What?" she asked in more of a bark than anything else.

"You should be kinder to her, Winnie," said Remus with the patience of a saint.

"Screw that," scoffed Sirius. "When she's out of line, Winnie's been calling her on it. She's acting like she's their guardian, Moony. It's not right."

Remus nodded slowly as his best friend spoke. "I know, Pads," he said in the soothing voice of someone who'd had this conversation more than once. "But she really does want what's best for them – and I'm not saying she's going about it the right way!" he hurried to add when Sirius scowled and opened his mouth to argue. "But if anything, it only proves she loves Harry and Winnie just the same as the rest of us."

Sirius made a face but didn't argue. Winona rocked back on the legs of her chair, sighing quietly. She'd only just woken up and already she was ready to head back to bed. "So, what information does the Great and Powerful Oz want from me today?"

"Oz?" asked Sirius.

"She means Dumbledore," said Remus with a roll of his eyes. He'd been raised by his Muggle mother, so he knew a great deal more about Muggle culture than Sirius – who had been raised only by Pure-bloods his whole life. The closest Sirius came to Muggle pop culture was his love of classic rock music, but even that had only been born out of rebelliousness against his heritage.

"He just wants you scanning the aether generally," Sirius told her, also rocking back on his chair. Remus rolled his eyes at them both; more alike than they'd ever admit.

Sirius had quickly become used to the vocabulary of Winona's visions. It warmed her than he accepted it so easily. He didn't think she was a freak; or worse, an oracle. She was just Winona, his loud-mouthed daughter. And she loved it that way.

"I think there's some unease in the giant tribes up north," Sirius continued, taking another large slurp of his coffee. "Dumbledore didn't mention it, but I can tell the news of it bothered him. Maybe keep your third eye out for anything on that?"

Rolling her eyes at his cheesy grin, Winona tossed a stray blueberry at her dad, only for him to catch it soundly in his mouth. He held his hand up for a high five from Remus, who turned away from him dismissively. Winona laughed, dropping her chair back down onto all its legs with a click.

"All right," she said, standing to her feet and stretching her arms high above her head until her spine popped. "I'll head up to my office, shall I?"

"Do you want any company?" Sirius offered, as he always did, even knowing what her answer would be. She'd come to expect it, and found it sweet. He knew she worked better when she was alone, but he offered anyway; just to show he cared. It was endearing.

"Thanks, but the less distractions the better," she told him with a small smile.

"Well, someone might want to tell your boyfriend that," said Sirius slyly, referring to the day the week earlier when she was meant to be scanning the aether for information on the happenings of Malfoy Manor, but when Remus had come in to check on her, he'd found she and Fred intertwined on the couch – halfway towards the _opposite_ of a meditation session.

"That was one time," she muttered, cheeks pink.

Remus and Sirius laughed, but Winona ignored them as she left the room. The others were all using what she'd begun to refer to as her 'studio' – the drawing room on the first floor that housed all her canvases, paints and supplies. It was the room Mrs Weasley had decided on cleaning today, which meant she was banished to her room.

She stopped off at the drawing room to collect her herbal candles, spending the whole walk there dreading seeing Mrs Weasley again. To her terrible surprise, Mrs Weasley was already stood outside the door, arms full of Winona's multicoloured candles.

"Mrs Weasley," Winona said, coming to a stop in front of her, unsure.

Mrs Weasley looked hesitant, like she was half convinced Winona would whip out her wand and curse all her hair off. "I knew you'd be wanting your candles, to help with the – the…" she trailed off, making a general gesture with her hands. Unlike Sirius, she wasn't yet down with the lingo.

"Thanks," said Winona dispassionately, taking the armful of candles from her with care.

"Sorry that we're using your space for the day," Mrs Weasley continued before Winona could make a speedy getaway. "But think of how lovely and clean it will be once we're done," she said, a hopeful smile on her face.

But it wasn't an apology for anything that actually mattered, and Winona wasn't ready to let it go yet. "Sure," she said, impassive, and a shadow was cast over Mrs Weasley's hopeful expression.

"Winona, I hope you know, what I said last night… I want only the best for Harry – and for you – and I know you don't like to hear it, but I don't believe involving either of you in this war is what's best. I'm sorry if I upset you."

It seemed heartfelt enough, but Winona still wasn't in the mood to hear it. "And how does that excuse saying you're more of a parent to us than Sirius, because he's been wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban all these years?"

Mrs Weasley looked uncomfortable now, cheeks a soft red. "I didn't mean it like that, dear…"

"I think you did," said Winona, voice edge with steel. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go. I have orders from Dumbledore; and of course you wouldn't _dare_ disagree with him like you do Sirius, would you?"

Mrs Weasley didn't seem to know what to say, but that was kind of the intention. Winona spun on her heel and disappeared up to her bedroom where she bolted the door, lit over a dozen candles, then escaped eagerly into the river of time.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this one. This was a special upload to tide you guys over for another few weeks before the next one. I'm not going back into my usual upload schedule just yet. Thank you all for being so understanding – it's such a relief to know I have you guys in my corner, even when life beats me down. See you again soon with another new chapter!**

**Spotlight review of the week goes to: _This Muse_ – Your review on the last chapter was an absolute joy to read, and I'm so thrilled you ended up liking my story after all! Thank you so much for taking the time to let me know what you thought – in such detail! - and, between you and me, let's just say that the Minister's High Seer offer is still on the table, and hasn't been forgotten by Fudge – or by me.**


	56. Shut up, Gandhi

Winona sat in her room for hours, one foot in the future, the other stuck firmly in the present. Nothing was coming to her; but then again, it rarely did. Trying to force a vision wasn't ever a particularly fruitful endeavour. Mostly it was just a lot of murky images and a faint sound that might have been screaming, although was too distant to know for sure.

Anything that she was supposed to see, she would see. Otherwise, searching for hint in the future was rather like floating in the sea, touching nothing and knowing nothing but the ebb and pull of the tide. It was endlessly frustrating, but it was easier to do as she was told.

Eventually Winona gave up, climbing to her feet and going through a series of stretches to work out the kinks in her back. She walked around her room, extinguishing the candles one by one, then she left her room, making her way downstairs in search of something to eat. Someone was screaming at somebody else downstairs, and Winona recognised the furious cadence of Mrs Weasley's voice. She wondered who was on the other end of her ire today.

"Keep muttering and I _will_ be a murderer!" Sirius was snarling at Kreacher as she passed the drawing room. The bitter old House Elf scurried down the stairs as quickly as his wrinkled, runty little legs would carry him.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" she asked, slipping through the doorway, finding Sirius glaring at the spot where Kreacher had just been.

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione was pleading, ever the advocate for House Elf rights, "I don't think he realises we can hear him."

"He's been alone too long," muttered Sirius, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little-"

"If you could just set him free-" suggested Hermione, looking at Sirius with hope in her eyes.

"You kidding, 'Mione?" scoffed Winona, leant in the doorjamb, eyes wide with disbelief. "We set him free, he'll go running straight to the nearest pure-blood to spill all the Order's secrets. There's no way we can let the little bastard go."

"Don't call him that," Hermione scolded her sternly.

"She's right, Hermione," said Sirius. "Besides, the shock of being let go would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."

Sirius turned to the tapestry hung on the wall, the one which Winona supposed Kreacher had been trying to protect from their cleaning spree. It was faded and old, and despite all the hours she'd spent in this exact room over the last month, painting and meditating and kissing Fred, Winona really _looked _at it for the first time since she'd arrived.

It wasn't just decoration, she realised. Made from embroidered golden thread, it seemed to date back to the Middle Ages. She hadn't noticed it for what it was before now, being that it was so old and worn. Staring at it, she found names she recognised, and she realised with a soft exhale of surprise that this was her family tree.

"You're not on here," said Harry to Sirius, only to pause. "Wait – Winnie, there you are!"

And Winona realised with a start that he was right. A small, embroidered child's face was there on the wall, rather close to the bottom. She didn't recognise herself, but that was unsurprising. She had no pictures from her childhood. Orphans rarely did.

"I used to be there," said Sirius, pointing at a round, charred hole in the tapestry, where another face might have once been. It was just above Winona's image, a line connecting them together. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home – Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

Harry was surprised. "You ran away from home?" he asked curiously. Winona had already heard the story, during one of her and Sirius' late night, tea-fuelled chats. So as her dad began telling Harry all about his history, Winona knelt down at the tapestry, reaching out to cautiously run her fingertips down the rough surface of her own branch on the tree.

A body appeared next to her, crouched with her on the floor, and she was unsurprised to find it was Fred. He was staring at the embroidered face of her as a baby, although the image was distorted by time and neglect.

"Wow," Fred murmured, eyeing the image. "You were an ugly baby."

Bewildered, Winona turned to him with a small cry of disbelief. He was grinning widely, and she slapped him hard in the shoulder. "That's so rude," she said, ignoring his amused snickering. "I'm sure this doesn't do me justice."

"Go on then, how accurate is it?" he asked.

Winona fell quiet. "I dunno," she confessed and he stopped laughing, turning to her in confusion. "I don't have any pictures," she added, still dragging her fingertips over the embroidered rendering of her face.

"None?"

"None," she said, pulling her hand away and reaching for his instead.

"Does Sirius have any?" he asked helpfully.

"Doubt it," she whispered. "He lost everything when he was sent to Azkaban."

Fred took a moment to think. "What about Lupin?"

Surprised by the suggestion, Winona looked up. "Hm?"

"Well, he didn't lose everything, did he?" Fred asked smartly. "I'm sure he'll have photos you could look at."

It wasn't something she'd ever considered before. It gave her pause, and a dangerous flicker of hope appeared in her chest.

"Think you'll ask?" Fred wondered.

"I dunno," she whispered. "Maybe."

The door to the drawing room burst open, and Mrs Weasley appeared with a tray floating in front of her, piled high with sandwiches and cake. "Lunch," she said, red in the face from her screaming match with whoever was downstairs.

"Dung," Fred explained, and Winona nodded understandingly.

He looked longingly at the food, and she pushed him in his mother's direction. "Go; eat," she ordered him. "I'll be along soon."

Fred kissed her briefly on the cheek before following in George's path and swiping himself a small trove of sandwiches, scoffing them down like he was being timed. Winona rolled her eyes and turned back to Harry and her dad.

"I haven't looked at this for years – I didn't even know Winnie had been added…" Sirius was telling Harry, leant in close to the tapestry and eyeing the different names along its surface. "There's Phineas Nigellus … my great-great-grandfather, see? Least popular headmaster Hogwarts ever had … and Araminta Meliflua … cousin of my mother's … tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal … and dear Aunt Elladora … she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays … of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned."

"Why am I on here?" Winona wondered, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Weren't the Potters blood traitors? And you and Jessica never even got married; which makes me illegitimate."

Sirius' smile was patient. "Yes, but Muggle-loving tendencies aside, Jess was a Pure-blood," he explained. "That's the only reason I can imagine you'd have been added to the tree. Despite your…less than palatable origins…you've still got more Pure-blood in you than even the majority of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"But I was never blasted off, like you?" Winona pointed out.

"Well, as far as she was aware, you died a martyr. Your fate was a consequence of my actions. She probably kept it up out of pity, or maybe to try and trick people into thinking she had a heart," said Sirius callously.

Winona laughed dryly. "She wouldn't have liked me at all, would she?"

Sirius clapped his hand on her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "She'd have absolutely loathed you," he said like somebody else might deliver a great compliment. This time when Winona laughed, it was genuine.

"I see Tonks isn't on here," Winona pointed out, gesturing to the area of the tapestry that held Andromeda's destroyed face.

Sirius dropped her hand on her shoulder and folded both his arms behind his back, leaning closer to the tapestry to examine it. "Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her," he mused. "He's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him."

Harry blinked, looking between the two Blacks in surprise. "You're related to Tonks?"

"Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin," said Sirius. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look-"

He pointed to another burn mark between Bellatrix and Narcissa, and Winona grimaced for the hundredth time at the reminder that she was related to the Malfoys.

"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so-"

Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Winona managed a chuckle that was just as bitter, and she shook her head at them. What a pair she and Sirius made. Jaded by the mistakes of those they were forced to call family. Harry, however, was gaping at the line that connected Draco Malfoy to Narcissa Black.

"You're related to the Malfoys?!" he exclaimed, stuck somewhere between disgust and disbelief.

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius with a dismissive flap of his hand. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods our choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage, and Arthur by his marriage to Molly," he told them casually.

"Oh God," said Winona with a horrified gasp. "I'm related to Fred?"

Sirius laughed, a deep-belly sound that drew the attention of the others. "Only by marriage, and it's a distant relation at best," he assured her. "You're not related by blood, Pup, don't worry."

The relief was strong in her veins, and Winona pressed a hand over her heart. Harry chuckled at her misfortune, and she sent him a rude hand gesture that only made him smirk.

"So, why aren't they on here?" Harry asked Sirius instead of mentioning it.

Sirius laughed without amusement. "You kidding? If ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys. My mother would have _never_ put them on the family tree."

Harry looked back at the tapestry. "Lestrange…" he said, sounding curious, like he'd heard the name somewhere before.

"They're in Azkaban," said Sirius shortly. Harry frowned in confusion, and Sirius hurried to explain. "Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch Jr. Rodolphus's brother Rabastan was with them, too."

Harry looked vaguely sickened. "You never said she was your-"

"Does it matter if she's my cousin?" snapped Sirius, immediately defensive. "As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. _She's_ certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"

Harry looked stunned by the force of his reaction, glancing unsurely at Winona. She shot him a sympathetic look, but there was only so much she could convey without words. "Sorry," Harry told Sirius quickly, "I didn't mean – I was just surprised, that's all-"

"It doesn't matter, don't apologise," his godfather mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. "I don't like being back here," he confessed, staring across the drawing room without really seeing any of it. "I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again."

Winona watched him sadly. She couldn't imagine how difficult it was for him to be here. This was the house where he'd spent his childhood being ignored and shouted at and smacked around so much he'd had to come up with lies to tell people to explain the bruising.

Winona understood that pain; she'd lived that way, back in the foster system. She knew the injustice of it all. The perpetrators always got away with it. And sometimes it felt like they always would.

And now he was back, stuck inside, a prisoner once more. The thought of it made her heart ache, and she wished she knew what to say to make it easier. But she also knew that, even with all the magic in the world at her fingertips, there were no words that could disappear the pain away.

"It's ideal for headquarters, of course," Sirius continued as if he hadn't just admitted something terribly sad. "My father put every security measure known to wizard-kind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call – as if they'd ever have wanted to – and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore's Secret-Keeper for the Order, you know – nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is – that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore…"

Sirius gave one of his bark-like laughs, the kind he only made when there was something he didn't _actually_ find funny.

"If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now…" he mused. "Well, my mother's portrait should give you some idea." He scowled for a moment, then sighed. "I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. At least you've been able be of some use," he added to Winona. She smiled at him sadly.

"Still," she said, "it's not the same as being _free._"

Sirius looked down at the floor, pensive, then turned to Harry. "I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you two to the hearing – as Snuffles, obviously – so I can give you a bit of moral support," he confessed. "What d'you think?"

Harry fell silent, becoming sombre at the reminder of his impending trial. But just as quickly he turned to look at Winona in surprise. "Wait, you're coming with me?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Why d'you think I made sure to be there for the attack?" she asked. "You were always going to need a reliable witness."

Harry's eyes didn't tear up, but they certainly went a little bit glassy. She didn't mention it, simply smiling at him gently. She realised now that he'd been operating under the assumption that he would be going into that trial alone, and she could see the relief in his eyes as he realised she would be beside him. Harry cleared his throat, and Winona kindly turned to her dad.

"Is it safe?" she asked him carefully. "Even as Snuffles, there's risk."

"What's life without a little risk?" he countered, and she found she had no answer for him. Harry was silent between them, and Sirius looked down at his godson, sympathy in his eyes. "Don't worry," he assured Harry gently. "I'm sure they'll clear you. There's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life."

"But if they do expel me," said Harry quietly, "can I come back here and live with you?"

Sirius smiled sadly. "We'll see."

It wasn't enough for Harry. "I'd feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn't have to go back to the Dursleys," he pressed.

Sirius frowned at the words. "They must be bad if you prefer this place," he said gloomily. Winona rolled her eyes and wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders.

"Wherever we are, you have a home," she promised him, even all the while knowing she shouldn't.

Sirius sent her a warning look that she wilfully ignored.

Dumbledore was very clear; until he turned seventeen, Harry's permanent residence – other than Hogwarts – had to remain the Dursley's. It was the only place he was truly safe, the magic from his mother's sacrifice keeping him hidden, so long as he lived under the same roof as Petunia.

It wasn't good, and it wasn't fair. But she also wasn't lying. Maybe Harry couldn't live with them all the time, but that wouldn't change the fact that wherever they were, that would always be his real home.

"Hurry up, you three, or there won't be any food left," Mrs Weasley called to them.

But to be perfectly honest, Winona didn't feel like staying in the room with Mrs Weasley and the others. She needed some time to think, and besides, she had a nagging voice in her head repeating Fred's words from before.

She took a handful of sandwiches from the tray Mrs Weasley had set down, then turned to Sirius. "Moony home?"

"Yeah, he's downstairs, making sure Dung doesn't nick the silverware," said Sirius distractedly.

"I'm gonna head down to see him," she told them. "I won't be long."

She caught Fred's eye, and he grinned at her knowingly. She pressed her lips together to stifle a grin of her own, rolling her eyes and turning to leave.

"Winona, dear," came Mrs Weasley's voice, "if you've finished with _work_ for the day, then you won't mind coming back up after lunch to help us with the cleaning? We're tackling the glass cabinets next."

Winona had to take a breath before replying. "Sure, Mrs Weasley," she said, not nearly half as sweet. "I'll help."

She left without waiting for a response. The house was quiet as she made her way down the two flights of stairs to get to the kitchen, being careful to tiptoe past her grandmother's portrait – she had a grandmother; how fucking mental was that? – just to be safe. As she descended the stairs into the basement, voices floated up to her.

"Why won't Dumbledore let me on guard duty?" Mundungus was complaining.

"Because you can't be trusted with anything worth more than a Knut," Remus' remarkably patient voice told him dryly. "Imagine what you'd do in a room with _that_ much value."

"C'mon," Mundungus griped. "I'm more trustworthy than you people like to think."

"Oh really?" Winona drawled as she entered the room, the pair of them looking up in surprise. "Then where are the silver scales from on top of that cabinet?"

Face turning white, Mundungus grumbled insults under his breath as he reluctantly fished the scales out from the folds of his sleazy suit. "S'just keeping it safe for ya," he insisted as he placed it squarely on the table between them.

"You're so slimy," she told him offhandedly, taking a seat beside Remus, noting his smirk as he read that day's copy of the _Prophet._

"Y'know, Winona, I do 'ave feelings," said Mundungus in a pathetic little voice.

"You have dollar signs for eyes," she countered without missing a beat. Mundungus made a hand gesture that she ignored, and went back to devouring his own plate of lunch. "Moony," she began after she'd had a few of her own sandwiches. "Can I ask you something?"

Remus put down the paper, folding his hands together on top of it and turning to look at her curiously. "Of course."

"It's probably going to sound stupid – and you probably don't even have any, so it's a moot point anyway. But, well, Fred mentioned…and I thought I might as well ask…though really, it's fine if you don't-"

"Winnie," said Remus in his usual, patient way, looking mildly amused. "You've yet to actually _ask_ me anything."

"Right," she murmured, tugging at the ring on her finger, the only thing she had left of her mum. It had been left with her when she'd gone into foster care, and she'd realised years ago that it must have been magical, because it had fit snugly around her finger even as a toddler. "Um, do you-do you have any photos of me and, erm, Jessica and Sirius? From before Jessica died, I mean?" she finally asked, hating how small she sounded.

Remus' eyes lit up with surprise as she stared at him expectantly, honestly a little afraid of his answer. He leaned back in his chair, considering her thoughtfully. "What makes you ask?"

"I saw the Black family tree, on the tapestry upstairs," she explained quickly. "I mentioned to Fred that I don't have any photos of myself as a kid."

"You don't have any?" Remus asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, I didn't get to keep anything of mine when I was put into foster care, and foster parents don't exactly care about preserving memories, y'know?" she told him, trying to make it sound like she didn't care. Even though she did. A lot.

"That's so sad…" Mundungus murmured pitifully from across the table.

"Shut up, Mundungus," Winona said without looking away from Remus.

"A lot of my things are still stored at my parents house, just outside of London," he told her quietly. "After Jessica, James and Lily died, and Sirius went to Azkaban, it was too hard to look at it all every day. I couldn't find it in me to part with it, though."

Winona felt disappointment curl in her gut. "Oh. So you don't have any with you."

The werewolf gave a ghost of a smile. "I didn't say that." He stood to his feet. "I'll be right back – keep an eye on him, would you, Winnie?" he threw over his shoulder in Mundungus' direction. Winona agreed and Remus left the room.

Mundungus tried to make conversation as they sat there, but Winona shut him down every time. She was too keyed up, too anxious about what she was going to see. She didn't have the patience to put up with Mundungus' ramblings.

Eventually Remus returned, carrying a small book in his hands. "After I realised Sirius wasn't a traitorous bastard after all, I was able to stomach looking at all these old memories again," he confessed, retaking his seat next to her and opening the book to show her.

She realised it was a small photo album and her heart froze for a beat as she watched him search for the right picture. Finally he found it, then laid the album open on the table for her to see. It was rather a special moment, and certainly not one she'd ever imagined Mundungus Fletcher would be present for, but some things were out of even her control.

The picture Remus had to show her was a simple one. A handsome young man with long black hair and tattoos was holding a small, pale baby in one arm. The other was wrapped around a woman with hair just as dark as Harry's. She was beautiful, all elfin features, with hazel eyes that sparkled in the sunlight above. The photo was moving – as all magical photos did – and when the woman smiled, all teeth and dimples, it rivalled even the sunshine.

Then the woman turned to the baby, gripping her little hands and moving them as if helping the baby wave. The man was smirking, looking exasperated but wholly content, and he dropped a kiss onto the baby's head almost like it were second nature.

Her throat suddenly felt too tight and dry, like somebody had stuffed it full of cotton wool. Winona stared down at the photo, watching as the little baby and the beautiful woman kept on waving, and the man with the long hair grinned lazily, bouncing the baby gently in his arms.

"Winnie?" Remus asked delicately.

Winona slammed the cover of the photo album firmly shut, as though the picture had been putting her under some sort of spell. "Thanks, Remus," she said, pushing the book back towards him.

"There are plenty more…"

"No," Winona snapped. Remus was staring at her with concern and she hated it. Grinding her teeth together, she used every ounce of strength in her to summon a smile. "Seriously, that was enough for today. Mrs Weasley wants me back upstairs."

He nodded slowly. "All right," he said, still staring at her with those large, knowing eyes. She felt the awful urge to retaliate – even though Remus hadn't done a thing wrong. It took a lot of willpower to take a deep breath and force herself to keep from snapping at him again. "Maybe another time?" he pressed gently.

Grinding her teeth so hard she half worried she'd break them, Winona shrugged and stood abruptly to her feet. "Touch any of Sirius' things again and I'll turn you into a lizard," she warned Mundungus without so much as a flinch.

Mundungus grimaced and held a hand over his heart. "You have my word."

Winona just scoffed and left the room.

It took three whole days for them all to finish cleaning out the drawing room to Mrs Weasley's standard. Winona hadn't really minded the way it was before – she could paint in a cave and hardly notice the difference – but she had to admit, it was nice not to have to worry about everything she touched potentially cursing her in one way or another.

She'd helped out with the cleaning when she could, but mostly she was stuck in Order meetings by Dumbledore's 'request'. Winona knew he was hoping that listening to their meetings would trigger important visions for her – and to her endless chagrin, it worked.

She'd Seen a family getting murdered at a housing estate in Gloucester, and the Order had managed the thwart the attack. She'd Seen a handful of crucial owls getting intercepted, and so the Order had changed their primary method of contact to the Floo Network, because it was easier to make secure. She'd also Seen a high ranking Ministry official getting kidnapped on her way to work. Bill and Mr Weasley had been able to keep it from happening; just in the nick of time.

The majority of the Order were still acting like she were some great oracle. It was getting on Winona's nerves to the point where she was beginning to snap at them for asking her mundane questions about their own personal futures.

"If one more person asks me whether they should change careers or take an extended holiday, I'm going to kill something," Winona warned her dad one afternoon before the day's scheduled Order meeting.

It was still early in the day, most of Grimmauld Place's residents still lingering in the kitchen, draining the last of the tea and nibbling at what remained of the sandwiches they'd had for lunch, taking advantage of Mrs Weasley's distraction on the floor above.

"Take it as a compliment," Sirius suggested around a mouthful of bread. "They think you're a good enough Seer that they're willing to come to you for advice. That's a good thing."

"I don't _want_ to give out advice," she complained. "Look at me. Do I even look like the kind of person who _should_?" she demanded, gesturing to the holey pyjamas she still wore, despite the time being well after twelve, her unbrushed hair, paint-stained hands, and the dry cereal she was eating straight out of the box.

"Looks can be deceiving," said George from opposite her at the table.

"Shut up, Gandhi."

"Who's Gandhi?" George mouthed at Fred, who simply held his hands up in surrender, as if to say, "Don't drag me into this."

"It could be worse," said Sirius reasonably. "Everyone could hate you."

"Yeah," agreed George. "Wouldn't you rather be loved than hated?"

"Not if being hated meant I was left alone," she grumbled.

Fred smiled at her, patting his hands gently against her shins. Her legs were resting in his lap, and every now and again he'd tickle the bottoms of her feet. She'd make a face at him and he'd grin innocently. It was a hint of easy perfection in a world without any. "You're so grumpy," he said fondly. "It's adorable."

She made another face when he tickled her again. "All right," said Mrs Weasley briskly, plodding her way back down the narrow staircase into the basement where they were all going about their morning. "Lunch is over. We're moving onto the dining room next – you're all going to need gloves, so Remus got us some disposable ones from the shops last night…"

All the kids groaned but stood to their feet. They'd long ago learnt it was easier just to do as she said, rather than waste time arguing. When Winona didn't move, Mrs Weasley narrowed her eyes.

"You too, Winona," she said with a condescending clap of her hands, like the kind you gave children who weren't doing what they were told. "Up you get."

"Can't," Winona replied around a mouthful of cereal. "Order meeting in twenty minutes."

Mrs Weasley turned her narrowed, laser-like eyes onto Sirius. "She can't keep shirking responsibility like this, Sirius," she said sternly. "If everybody else has to clean, she should put in some effort, too."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not in the room," Winona snapped, voice edged with steel.

Mrs Weasley turned back to her. "Well then, Winona, I think you need to pull your weight like the rest of the children," she said primly.

Winona wasn't sure what she'd done to so thoroughly piss off Mrs Weasley, but she wasn't about to stand being disrespected like that – not even by someone she thought of as the mother she'd never really had.

"I _am_ pulling my weight," she said sharply. "You think it's fun sitting in Order meetings, listening to report after report on Death Eater activity, just waiting for a vision? Do you think it's easy, being stuck in the future, watching innocent people die? Or maybe you think I _like_ being told terrible secrets? The kind I'm not even allowed to tell the people closest to me, because if I do, I'll die?"

Mrs Weasley didn't know what to say, staring back with glassy eyes.

"I might not be cleaning as much as the rest of you, but I'm pulling my weight just as much as anybody else in this house," she finished coldly. She hadn't raised her voice once. She hadn't even stood to her feet. She'd stayed reclined in her chair, box of cereal in her lap and a blank expression on her face. "Wouldn't you agree?" she asked sweetly.

Mrs Weasley made a sound that was half a clearing of the throat, half a sob, and without saying a thing she turned and darted away, scurrying up the steps as quickly as she could manage. Winona was left sat alone in the kitchen with her dad, feeling like just about the worst person on the face of the Earth.

She turned to Sirius, a frown pulling at her brow. "Am I a bitch?" she wondered.

"Maybe a little bit," her dad told her honestly. "But I find it endearing."

Winona snorted. "I think you're the only one."

When Sirius said nothing she looked up from the cereal box she'd been distractedly digging through. He was staring at her, and she didn't like the look in his eyes. It wasn't quite pity – but something dangerously close.

"You're just protecting Harry," he said quietly, the words flickering with warmth.

"How was _that_ protecting Harry?" Winona asked, even though she knew, deep down, what he meant. Mrs Weasley had been acting like she got to choose what Harry could and couldn't know. Like she knew what was best for him. But as his cousin and the only blood family he had left, Winona found it – well, she found it _insulting._

She hadn't realised until that moment, but that was what it was. She was insulted, and she was hurt. She wasn't the type to cry, but she was the type to take her emotions out on those around her. And unfortunately, Mrs Weasley had stepped unwittingly into her line of fire.

"I have to apologise, don't I?" she asked grimly.

Sirius smiled sympathetically. "'Fraid so, pup."

She sighed heavily and began to climb to her feet.

"Hey, not _now_," said Sirius. "People will be arriving soon. You need to be on your game. And you should probably go change."

Winona looked at herself. "What's wrong with this?"

He stared at her incredulously. "They're pyjamas."

"I don't need to be dressed to tell the future," she said around yet another mouthful of cereal. "That's not how it works."

Sirius sighed and put down the paper he'd only been halfheartedly scanning. "I know it's hard, being stuck here," he began carefully. Her eyes narrowed and her chewing slowed. "I'm frustrated too. Tensions are running high. But focus on the good. Sometimes, especially in times such as these, perspective is the greatest weapon we have."

Winona pursed her lips. "Okay," she said sardonically. "I'll go fetch a knife, and you fight back with your _perspective_."

"Winona," her dad said, patient and sincere. The fight drained out of her. He was right. Being stuck in this place was getting to her head. She was beginning to feel more than stir-crazy. She was beginning to feel downright insane.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, reluctantly putting the cereal box on the table and climbing to her feet. "I'll go get changed," she relented. Sirius smiled gratefully, and with a popping noise she Disapparated.

Apparating into her bedroom, she reluctantly changed into some jeans and one of Fred's Puddlemere United teeshirts, just because she knew she'd need the extra comfort. She made her way into the bathroom, running a brush through her hair and scrubbing at her teeth. Then she sprayed on a little of the perfume she'd gotten from the girls for her last birthday and Apparated back down to the kitchen where, to her surprise, people had already begun to arrive.

Hestia, Tonks and Kingsley were there, and judging by the stench of tobacco smoke, Mundungus was somewhere nearby; probably looking for something of the Blacks' he could fence down in Knockturn Alley for a few extra Galleons.

"Wotcher, Winnie," said Tonks cheerfully, holding up a cup of takeaway coffee she'd brought with her in a sort of salute. "You all right?"

Winona shrugged. "Been a long few days."

She took her seat beside Sirius, seeing he'd finished his scan of the _Daily Prophet_ and plucking it off the table. She didn't read it very often, mostly because they trashed Harry so frequently that for awhile there she'd begun to burn copies in retaliation. But sometimes it was good for her to scan the front page at the very least. Just to get an idea about what was going on outside this blasted house.

Tonks and Kingsley carried on an easy conversation about work, while Hestia attempted to make awkward chatter with Sirius. The familiar sound of uneven footsteps on the stairs met her ears just as Winona reached the end of a boring article on the dwindling access to phoenix feathers as a potion ingredient, and she looked up to see Moody limping into the room, followed closely by a scowling Snape.

Winona desperately wanted to make a snide comment – sometimes she felt emboldened by her position in the Order, as if being part of it put her on the same level as all these older, accomplished witches and wizards – but she had to remind herself that Snape was still her teacher for one more year. She couldn't talk shit to his face; not yet. It was more trouble than it was worth.

"Heard Julian Lyons was arrested on suspicion of harbouring a fugitive," grunted Moody as he made a stilted loop around the small basement, then came to rest in the far corner, where he could see everything in the room and best defend himself should something go awry. "Word is it's you, Black."

"Never took you as one for gossip, Moody," drawled Sirius, lifting his mug of coffee to his lips and taking a deep sip.

"It's _intel_," snapped Moody, his one good eye flashing with irritation.

"It's gossip," argued Tonks, rocking lazily in her chair. "Sirius obviously isn't skulking about in Lyons' basement, hiding from Aurors, now, is he? Thus, gossip."

Moody peeled his lips back in a sneer but otherwise didn't comment.

Diggle and Doge appeared, followed closely by Remus, and then a self-satisfied Mundungus, his pockets jangling a little as he moved. Winona looked to her father, wondering if he was going to do anything about it.

"Let him take it," he said in an undertone, for her ears only. "There's not a thing in this house I want to keep; except you and Harry."

The admission made her cheeks oddly warm, and she sent him a tiny, shy smile. Mr Weasley arrived, looking a little out of breath. He'd had to be in at work early that morning, and was only now making it back for the meeting. Bill arrived too, shooting an apologetic look at them all as he took a seat at the table and settled into easy conversation with Diggle.

Finally, with everyone now in attendance, Dumbledore arrived, a severe-looking McGonagall in tow. Winona met her Head of House's eyes, sending her a small smile in greeting that was returned.

The Headmaster began the meeting with no fuss, simply waiting for Kingsley to shut and spell the door locked before turning to Hestia for her report.

Winona picked up her bag, fishing out her sketchbook and a stray pencil, beginning to lazily sketch across the page as she halfheartedly listened to the reports happening around her. It wasn't until they came to Snape that anything interesting came to light.

"The Dark Lord is now more aware than ever of the young Miss Black and her…abilities," Snape said in that sneering, slimy voice of his, disdain coating her name as he said it. Winona started, looking up from her rough sketch of Buckbeak wearing a top hat, blinking at the table in surprise.

Dumbledore stared at the Potions professor, eyes narrowed and shrewd, and without prompting, Snape pressed on.

"With the way she's been thwarting his plans over these last few weeks, he's become more determined than ever to have her for himself. The price on her head has more than tripled."

There were a few gasps around the table, but Winona kept calm, staring at Snape without blinking. "Really?" she asked casually. "Cool."

"No, Winona," said McGonagall sharply. "Not 'cool'. You mustn't be so cavalier. This is a very serious – and _dangerous_ – increase in your value to You-Know-Who and his followers."

"I don't see how it matters," Winona argued, although not as petulantly as should would have with Snape. The difference was, Winona actually _respected_ McGonagall. Snape, on the other hand… "S'not like I'm leaving the house any time soon, and nobody can get to me here. Except Dung, but I don't think even he's stupid enough to cross me like that."

Mundungus went pale at the insinuation and shot her a glare. She responded with a smile sugary enough to give them all cavities.

"Except you _will_ be leaving the house," said Doge suddenly, looking about as pale as Mundungus, although she wasn't sure why. At her look of confusion, he pressed on. "Tomorrow? Potter's hearing?"

The room fell quiet and the silence felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. "Well, yeah, but nobody's gonna attack me at the Ministry, are they?" she asked with a laugh that was more nervous than anything else.

Nobody else so much as chuckled, many turning to look anxiously at Dumbledore, whose hands were steepled on the table in front of him, icy eyes distant and thoughtful. "The Ministry isn't as safe as it once was," he said enigmatically, and the words themselves sent a terrible shiver down the length of Winona's spine.

"Maybe not," Winona allowed. "But I'm going to be in a room with the Minister himself. Not even the most confident of Death Eater would make an appearance before the Wizengamot just to snatch me away, right? _Right_?" she squeaked shrilly when nobody answered her.

"She can't go," said Hestia suddenly, and Winona whirled around on her with betrayal in her eyes that only grew as others cast in their agreement. Soon enough the majority of the table was calling out their accordance.

"It's too high a risk, Dumbledore!"

"She's much too valuable – the Ministry cannot be trusted! Not now!"

"What about on the way to the hearing? There'd be ample opportunity to snatch her in the streets!"

"Constant vigilance, Albus! Does it mean nothing to you anymore?"

"Silence," said Dumbledore, so calm it was almost more terrifying than a shout. The sea of grown witches and wizards fell silent as obediently as any student from school. Dumbledore took a moment, letting the silence drift, eyes shrewd as he stared them down. When he finally spoke, his voice was grim. "Miss Black _will_ be attending Harry's hearing, even despite this new threat."

There was a small uproar from the gathered members of the Order, but Dumbledore silenced them again by simply raising a hand in command.

"The plan must go ahead as intended," he said evenly, seeming hardly as concerned as everyone thought he should be. "Winona will be in Arthur's perfectly capable hands, and as an added measure of protection, those of you with access to the Ministry will be stationed along their path. Once they reach the Wizengamot, I will be there to take over the protective detail."

The Order didn't cry out so much as mutter amongst themselves, considering the new and improved plan of action. Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Winona, who had long since given up trying to sketch, staring back at him intently.

"But Dumbledore," said Moody, "the risk-"

"Is well worth it," Dumbledore finished without missing a beat, and Winona looked away, wondering if that was true. Whatever Dumbledore's plan was, was it worth her life?

"And I'll be with them, too," Sirius spoke up, looking at Dumbledore defiantly.

Dumbledore didn't so much as blink, looking back at Sirius calmly. "I've decided it's best you don't accompany them to the Ministry, Sirius," he said firmly. "Even in your Animagus form, the risk of somebody recognising you is far too high."

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, fire flickering in his eyes, but Dumbledore held out a hand to silence him.

"I've made my decision, Sirius," he repeated himself, blue eyes hard, like steel. "I won't be changing my mind."

Sirius shut his mouth so hard they all heard his teeth clack together. Winona glared at Dumbledore, but she might as well have been washing a car in the rain. It didn't matter. Dumbledore didn't care about their _feelings._ All he cared about was the greater good; it was all that mattered.

And in the Order, his word was law.

"If that's all we have on the agenda today," Dumbledore continued, unbothered by the weight of their resentful stares, "I have business to attend to."

With that he stood and the meeting was brought to a close. The room broke out in conversation, and Dumbledore walked through the doorway without looking back at any of them. Winona frowned at his retreating figure, then turned to look at her dad, who was scowling at the table like it had wronged him.

She wanted to say something – but what _could_ she say? She couldn't make it so he could come with them to the Ministry. There were no words that could make him feel better about being stuck in this godforsaken house while his kids were out amongst the wolves at the Ministry.

She reached out, wrapping her smaller hand around his. He looked up at her in surprise, stormy grey meeting stormy grey, and Winona smiled softly, trying to tell him she was sorry it had to be this way, and that she understood it wasn't an easy thing, to be the one left behind.

He squeezed her hand in reply, and they looked over as one when people began to call out their goodbyes as they made their way to the door, preparing to leave.

Despite the shadow the Order meeting had cast over her day, dinner was an easy affair. Everybody chattered over their chops and gravy, and Winona sat between the twins,finding her laughter sincere as they teased Ron for something stupid he'd said earlier in the day.

The ease of the night, however, vanished completely when Mrs Weasley leant towards Harry and told him, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders."

The table went uncomfortably silent, everyone turning to stare openly at Harry, who suddenly looked like he wished he were anywhere else. Winona wanted to quip that she didn't particularly think the Ministry was going to go easy on Harry just because he'd washed his hair, but she got the feeling nobody would appreciate it.

"How am I getting there?" her cousin asked, doing his best to sound unconcerned, like he wasn't strung out with nerves. But Winona could tell; she could see it in his emerald eyes.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him," Mrs Weasley told him gently.

Mr Weasley smiled warmly. "You and Winona can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing," he told him quietly. Almost as if he'd forgotten she would be joining him, Harry's eyes darted to Winona, who met his stare with an encouraging smile.

He looked a tiny bit relieved, and she felt an answering happiness in her gut that shrivelled and died when Harry turned to look hopefully at Sirius.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you," Mrs Weasley said briskly, "and I must say I-"

"–think he's quite right," finished Sirius, voice hard and cold, the words said through gritted teeth.

Harry frowned. "When did Dumbledore tell you that?"

"He was here this afternoon," Mr Weasley informed him. "For the Order meeting."

Harry opened his mouth, and Winona could tell it was to argue that Sirius should be allowed to come with them, but he met her eyes before he could get a word out and she gently shook her head. Harry's shoulders slumped and he went back to morosely carving into his chops, the weight of the world resting upon on his scrawny shoulders.

"Saw Mundungus in the hallway when he was leaving the meeting," Fred told her as the room slowly began to fill with chatter once more. She knew he was just distracting her, and like always, she was inclined to let him. "He tried to sell us a pint of Horklump juice for cheap."

"Tell me you didn't," she begged him.

"You kidding?" scoffed George. "One sniff and I knew it had been diluted to the point of uselessness. It was a good effort though; he had a sales pitch and everything."

"That rat bastard's going to get himself Hexed one day soon," she sighed. "And I'm not going to do a damn thing to stop it."

They all went to bed early that night, mostly at Mrs Weasley's insistence. "Harry and Winona have to be up early," she tutted without looking at them. "And the rest of you will be tackling the main bedroom once you wake up. Best get all the rest you can."

Winona waved goodnight to Sirius, brought Harry in for a fleeting side-hug, then kissed Fred's cheek before climbing the stairs to her room on the top floor.

She realised rather suddenly that it was too quiet. That the reality of the coming day weighed on her, seeming to fill the silence with a pitchy ringing and the pounding of her own heart. What if the Order members were right? What if someone did try to snatch her from the Ministry? What if they found some way to incriminate her in a crime, just so they could manipulate her just as they were Harry? The possibilities swam round and round in her head, until she began to feel dizzy.

She pulled out her sketchbook, opening to a blank page and beginning to sketch Hogwarts' castle from memory, just for something to focus her mind on.

The clock in the corner ticked on, the hour growing later and later, and still she sketched. She couldn't even fathom trying to sleep now – how could she, when she knew the risks of the coming day? It was nearing midnight when she heard the telltale creaking outside her door. For a moment she thought it might be Harry – because she was sure he was getting just about as much rest as she was, and could probably use someone to talk to – but when her door quietly opened, it was instead a familiar head of fiery red hair that poked into the room.

"Still awake, then?" Fred whispered, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"No, I'm sleep-sketching," she deadpanned even as she put her sketchbook aside and shuffled over in bed to give him room to lay down.

He was dressed in novelty boxers and a Puddlemere United teeshirt that had definitely seen better days. Winona lifted her covers and he slid underneath them. The moment he laid down, Winona curled around him like an octopus, threading their legs together and resting her head over his heart.

His arm wrapped around her, his fingertips gently trailing up and down the length of her side, and she took what felt like the first deep breath she'd had all day.

"What's got you so rattled?" he wondered, and she clung to him a little tighter, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her ear. "Is it the trial? You're worried Harry won't win?"

"Harry will win," she said without so much as a shred of uncertainty. "It's just – well," she stopped abruptly. She'd been about to tell him what had happened in the Order meeting, but remembered her Vow to Dumbledore with a grimace. "I don't think I can tell you," she whispered, breathing in his scent.

How was it he always smelled like gunpowder? It was like he rubbed it into his skin every night before bed. And it shouldn't have been attractive as she'd always found it to be.

"The Vow?" Fred asked knowingly. She nodded against his sternum. Fred sighed, hand trailing up to her head, his fingers tangling in her loose ivory hair. "Do you ever wish you hadn't agreed? That you hadn't made the Vow with Dumbledore?"

Winona traced shapes into the front of Fred's teeshirt. "Sometimes," she confessed. "It would be easier that way…to be like all of you, and not know everything. But I know I can't just bury my head in the sand. If only for Harry's sake. He needs someone in those meetings to be on his team."

"Isn't Sirius, though?"

This time it was Winona who sighed. "Yeah – and he loves Harry, he really does – but he doesn't _know_ him. Not yet. Not like I do."

Fred was silent a moment, fingers still carding gently through her hair. "You don't trust anybody to watch over him like you can," he finally said, soft but resonating with truth.

Winona nuzzled into his chest. "Yeah."

They fell into an easy silence, and Winona couldn't deny she was beginning to feel the tendrils of exhaustion pulling at her, trying to drag her down into the realm of sleep. "You need sleep," said Fred, as if reading her mind.

"Probably."

Fred laughed. "Come on," he said, reaching for her wand where it lay on the headboard of her bed. With a flick of his wrist, the light turned off, plunging them into darkness. He put her wand back where it belonged, wrapping himself around her tightly. "Sleep."

"Don't wanna," she complained even as her eyes drifted shut and her body began to grow heavy.

Fred chuckled, and she felt his warm breath at the crown of her head. "Sleep, Win."

"Okay," she sighed dopily. "Just for you."

As she drifted off into the realm of dreams, it was to the feeling of Fred's fingertips trailing their way over her side, innocent and relaxing. And she knew that although the coming day was fraught with danger, she was safe in the here and now, in Fred's arms.

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys, how've you been going? I know it's been awhile since you last heard from me. I've been very, very busy with things in the real world, but rest assured, I haven't forgotten this story or any of you. **

**While I hope you all enjoyed this update, I think I should warn you that I'm still not planning to go back to a weekly update schedule any time soon. Things are crazy for me at the moment, and I have a lot of other projects that I'm busy putting time and energy into. At this point you can expect roughly one upload a month, unless something magical happens and I get some free time to work/write/edit. **

**I want to thank each and every one of you for your support and understanding. You're seriously the best readers ever, and I'm always so glad to hear from you and share our love for this series (although there _are_ some very problematic things happening around its author these days, but if you want my opinions on that particular subject, I'd rather it be done in private). **

**And for those of you hanging out – the trial is the next chapter coming – I promise. **


	57. I can't change the past

Most people would have thought the twins to be the type to like to sleep in late, but it was actually the opposite. They often rose early in the day, eager to get started on their next invention, or plan their next big prank.

So when Winona woke at five the next morning, the alarm clock beside her bed ringing loud and unwelcome in her room, Fred got up with her, looking perfectly wide awake.

"Really, Fred," she said, pushing him back towards her bed even as she changed from her pyjamas into a cream and floral sundress that her friends had bought her one year for her birthday. It wasn't something she wore often, but it was the least paint-stained thing she owned, and Mrs Weasley was sort of right – first impressions mattered. "Go back to bed. You've had barely any sleep."

"Neither have you," he argued. "Besides, I'm not coming downstairs for _you._ I'm just hungry."

Winona rolled her eyes fondly but didn't bother arguing. Hands linked, the pair made their way down a floor, pausing by Fred's room so he could duck inside and change into some proper trousers.

The kitchen was more full than Winona had expected, and she looked around at the people gathered, trying not to frown. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Remus and her dad were all sat round the table, mugs of tea in front of them, worried looks on their faces that they were doing nothing to hide.

"Winnie," said Tonks, the first to notice her and Fred stood awkwardly in the doorway. The others turned to look, and Winona felt strangely scrutinised – like they were trying to memorise her features before she left today. As though they half thought she might not be coming back.

"Is that coffee I smell?" Fred wondered, striding into the room and tugging her in fearlessly after him. She shouldn't have been surprised – Fred didn't have an awkward bone in his body.

"The last thing _you _need is coffee," she told him even as she reached for the kettle, pouring them both a cup. "You're hyper enough as it is."

The others were watching them carefully, like they half expected her to burst into tears of terror at the reality of the coming day. "How'd you sleep, Pup?" Sirius asked her gently.

"Like hell," she replied without missing a beat, eyes flickering to Fred, who caught her stare and smiled. "Didn't think I'd ever see you up this early, Tonks," she added, handing Fred his mug and cupping her own in tight hands.

Tonks was midway through a loud yawn, and once her face had relaxed, Winona couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. Like she'd spent more of the night awake than Winona had. "Easy to wake up early when you never went to bed in the first place," Tonks said lightly, picking a piece of toast from the pile in the centre of the table.

"What can I get you for breakfast, Winona?" Mrs Weasley asked quickly. Winona turned to face her, finding the Weasley matriarch to look just about a hair's breadth away from a complete nervous breakdown. She was wringing her hands in front of her and she had purple circles under her eyes, betraying her night of restless sleep.

Had _any_ of them had even a half decent night's rest?

"I can fetch it," Winona said, turning to the cupboard. But before she could so much as reach for the handle, Mrs Weasley was there, blocking her from it.

"Go sit down," she insisted. "I'll fix something up – whatever you want."

The look in her eyes was haunted and afraid, and Winona realised she was trying to make up for the current tension between them. Trying to fix things before Winona inevitably died today – as everybody except Sirius and Dumbledore seemed sure was going to be the case.

"Why do you look ready to lay an egg?" Fred demanded, eyes narrowed at his nervous mother.

Remus shifted where he sat. "Winnie didn't tell you-?"

"The Vow," Winona reminded him flatly. "I have to choose my words with great care, these days."

Fred began to look alarmed. "Didn't tell me what?"

Winona held up her hands in the universal sign of surrender, and Fred turned impatiently to Remus, who looked like he was rather regretting speaking up at all. "The price that You-Know-Who has set on Winnie's head has increased by…well, by rather a lot."

"How much?" Fred demanded.

Remus looked uncomfortable again, but Winona stared at him intently, trying to tell him to be honest – because as much as she'd have loved to shield Fred from the truth, what was the point? They were in this together, and he should know the facts. And it wasn't like she could tell him anything herself.

"Nearly three thousand Galleons," Remus revealed grimly.

Fred turned to stare at her, eyes the size of dinner plates. "Win," he said, sounding a little bit breathless. "That's easily the kind of gold _anyone_ would kill for."

"Well, I won't go quietly," she replied, trying to stay cheerful. "My current worst-case-scenario plan is to be so horrendously frustrating that putting up with me ends up not being worth the gold."

Fred couldn't help but smirk. "Well, you're certainly up to the task."

"Don't you make light of this, Fred Weasley," said Mrs Weasley sharply, putting a plate of bacon and eggs down hard on the table. Winona had been so focused in the conversation, she hadn't even realised Mrs Weasley had been making it for her. "This is no laughing matter."

"Hang on – why're you going today, then?" Fred asked as Winona took a seat at the table, pulling the plate towards her and beginning to eat. "Surely it's safer to be _here_ than out at the Ministry."

"Safer, yes," she said. "But that's not part of the plan."

"Whose plan?"

Winona said nothing. "Dumbledore's," her dad spoke up, sounding particularly bitter as he did.

"And what is it?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," interjected Mrs Weasley, more stern than ever, if that were possible.

"Bit late for that," Fred argued, scowl set deep on his face. "About seven years too late."

Winona knew he was talking about her, and even as someone who didn't easily blush, she felt her cheeks growing warm at the passionate exclamation of his affection. She reached out, laying her hand on her boyfriend's leg. He covered her hand with his own, threading their fingers together, and when she glanced over at him he had a cheesy smirk ready and waiting.

"I assure you, Fred, we're taking every precaution when it comes to Winnie's safety," said Remus when it looked like Mrs Weasley was about to blow her top at her son's sass.

"Let me come with you," Fred said, and Winona groaned aloud, letting go of his hand and instead tucking into her breakfast. She wasn't particularly hungry, she just wanted something to focus on other than the train wreck happening in front of her.

"Out of the question," snapped Mrs Weasley.

"Come on – you'll need backup, someone you can trust-"

"You're _not_ a part of the Order, Fred," his mother hissed, fire in her eyes. "You'll stay right here, where it's safe, and I won't hear a thing against it."

Fred opened his mouth to argue some more – because of course he wasn't going to take that lying down – but before he could speak, Sirius spoke up.

"As glad as I am that you're willing to brave the Ministry and all manner of gold-hungry wizards to keep my daughter safe, your mother's right," he said, successfully managing to avoid the loud argument that no doubt would have occurred.

Mrs Weasley went about sweeping the floor, if only to keep herself busy, but Winona could tell all of her attention was on the conversation at hand. Fred was frowning but he didn't yet argue, staring at Sirius, evaluating the situation.

"Winnie needs to be focused today, ready for anything. You'll only distract her."

At that, Fred wanted to argue, fire in his eyes as he opened his mouth to retort. But Sirius held up a hand, stopping him.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. In fact, it's about the best thing there is," he said, eyes distant and clouded, and somehow Winona knew he was thinking of her mother and the too-short amount of time they'd had together. "But it's not what we need today," he continued, coming out of his stupor quickly. "Besides, the less people involved in this case, the better. And we already know the Minister has his suspicions about your family. It would prove do harm than good to have a Weasley in that courtroom today."

Fred opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Even he didn't have a good counter argument for that, which was certainly saying something. He sighed, the tension reluctantly melting from his shoulders, a scowl marring his handsome face.

"Fine," he said begrudgingly, nose wrinkled like he smelt something bad.

Winona swallowed her mouthful of bacon and reached for his hand again, holding tight. "I'll be okay," she promised him. "This is nothing I can't handle. And besides; I'll have your dad with me the whole time."

"Right," said Fred scathingly. "Because all wizards cower in fear from a man who collects plugs."

"Oi," said Mr Weasley in response, but it was without feeling. He looked strung out, and Winona knew he was as worried about today as everybody else was.

"Ignore him," she told Mr Weasley even as she squeezed Fred's hand. "I think you're properly terrifying, Mr Weasley. A real threat."

Mr Weasley smiled, and it was a great deal more genuine than his scowl had been. "Thank you, Winona," he said gently, holding up his tea as if toasting her, then taking a deep sip.

Winona was about to ask Tonks where she would be today when there was a creak from the direction of the stairs. She turned in her seat to see Harry had arrived, dressed in his freshly pressed clothes with a look of dread spread across his familiar face.

"Morning, Boy-Wonder," she called before anyone else could pick something to say. Harry attempted a smile that ended up more of a grimace, and she kicked the chair beside her out of its spot, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"M-m-morning, Harry," yawned Tonks, running a hand through today's curly blonde hair. "Sleep all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, awfully lacklustre, and Winona watched as he sat in the seat beside her, hands restless in his lap. She placed a hand on his back and rubbed in a few small circles, trying to comfort him without words. He didn't want her to tell him everything would be all right; not unless she actually knew it would be.

And not even _she_ could say for certain that today would end well for any one of them.

"I've been up all night," Tonks continued around another yawn.

"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs Weasley called before anyone else could speak. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

Harry hesitated, and Winona knew he was going to say he was fine. She poked him in the ribs and he sighed. "Just – just toast, thanks," he said reluctantly. Winona nodded once, content.

Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, "What were you saying earlier about Scrimgeour?"

"Oh, yeah … well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…"

Tonks continued on, but Winona stopped listening. She turned instead to Harry, glad to have a moment without the entire room's attention. "How do you feel?" she asked him in an undertone only Fred, next to her, could hear.

He glanced up at her, a storm of discontent in his eyes. "Like I'm on death row."

He was so afraid, and she hated it. She wished she could make it disappear, wished there was some spell she could cast that would undo all this shit and just leave him a normal boy. But she knew there was no such spell, and all she could truly do was be there for him in every way she could.

Keeping that in mind, Winona scoffed. "Okay, Mr Melodramatic," she teased, poking him again in the ribs.

Harry attempted another smile, but he didn't really succeed. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice even more. "You have any visions?" he asked, the hope in his voice breaking her heart. Furrow in her brow, Winona shook her head. "None at all?"

"Everything still undecided," she told him quietly. "If I knew anything…"

"So would I," he finished. She nodded, and his shoulders slumped as he went back to chewing despondently on his piece of toast.

"Cheer up, mate," said Fred, leaning around Winona to grin at Harry. He looked so bright, Harry couldn't have possibly suspected the worry she knew sat in his chest. "Want me to slip you some Fainting Fancies?"

Harry looked confused. "What's a Fainting Fancy?"

"New joke product – for the shop. George and I have been developing them in our spare time. Look just like any old Honeydukes sweet, but when you eat it, it makes you faint," Fred said brightly. "I figure, if you lose the trial, you can hand them out to the Wizengamot then run once they start hitting the floor."

Harry looked like it didn't know whether to laugh for scream, so Winona pressed a hand to her boyfriend's chest, sensing her cousin needed a moment of quiet. "Kind of an offer as it is, I think Harry will be fine," she said, lips twitching up at the corners. "Especially because he's _not_ going to lose."

"Course he's not," Fred agreed cheerfully. "Don't worry, mate, you've got this in the bag!"

Harry still looked rather green, so Winona just squeezed his shoulder once before turning her attention to Fred and starting up a quiet conversation about the updated order forms they were working on in their free time.

Eventually the others' conversation came to a natural end, and then the attention turned back to Harry, who rather looked ready to climb beneath the table and set up camp there forever. "How are you feeling?" Mr Weasley asked him kindly. Harry's only response was a halfhearted shrug. "It'll all be over soon. In a few hours' time, you'll be cleared."

Harry still said nothing, staring at his plate of half-eaten toast like it held all the answers. Mr Weasley seemed uncomfortable with his silence, blathering on.

"The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."

"Amelia Bones is okay, Harry," added Tonks, looking particularly earnest. "She's fair. She'll hear you out."

Harry swallowed – probably at the thought of having to be 'heard out' at all, and nodded again.

"Don't lose your temper. Be polite and stick to the facts," Sirius interjected, a fierce look on his face. Winona knew it was killing him not to be there for them, and she wished there was some way she could make it happen. Even though, deep down, she knew Dumbledore was right. Sirius wouldn't really be of any use, and he was better off here, where he couldn't be exposed.

Harry nodded yet again.

"The law's on your side," Lupin added quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

Mrs Weasley began attacking Harry's hair with a wet comb. "Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she asked desperately. Once more, Harry only shook his head.

"He looks fine," said Winona, unable to help the scorn in her voice. Mrs Weasley looked surprised by the attitude, but really, what did she expect? Harry had a pained look on his face, and Winona knew in an instant that none of this was helping. She turned to look at Mr Weasley. "We ought to be going, don't you think?"

Mr Weasley checked his watch, frowning in consideration, then nodded his head. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll both be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here."

Harry dropped his toast and flew to his feet, all too eager to get out of there. The attention was too much, Winona could tell. She took a final bite of bacon, then wiped her hands on a napkin and stood up next to him.

"You'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks, patting him on the arm.

"Good luck," added Lupin. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"And if it's not," said Sirius grimly, "I'll see to Amelia Bones for you…"

He was mostly joking, but the idea of Sirius breaking out of this prison they called a home just to murder a woman for kicking Harry out of Hogwarts was an amusing one. Winona snorted while Harry just smiled weakly. Mrs Weasley pulled him into a stubborn hug. She murmured something to him and he nodded, then pulled away.

Winona turned to Sirius, who had stood from his chair, a look of anxiety on his face that was impossible to mask. "I'll see you later," she told him, and he lifted an arm. Relenting, Winona slipped under his arm and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Any hint of danger – any at all, Winona – and you Apparate directly back here. No exceptions," he said into her hair. She nodded, squeezing him tight before letting go and smiling up at him. It was a better attempt at cheerfulness than Harry had given, but still just about as unconvincing.

She turned to Fred, who held out a hand for her to take. She stared at it in confusion.

"Fred Weasley-" his mother began hotly.

"Relax, Mum," Fred snapped. "I'm just going to walk them to the door."

And not even Mrs Weasley could argue with that. Harry and Mr Weasley left first, heading up the rickety staircase, and Winona took Fred's outstretched hand, his fingers warm and calloused against hers. He led the way up the stairs after the others, and Winona waved at those of them still left in the kitchen. Tonks grinned brightly as she waved back, but the others didn't look half as cheerful.

Harry's comment about death row suddenly didn't seem so silly after all.

Mr Weasley had unbolted the door and stepped out into the icy bite of the dawn. Harry hovered in the doorway, waiting for her, and she paused in the hallway, looking up at Fred with wide eyes. Her boyfriend leaned down so their faces were level, a tiny furrow in his ginger brow.

"Promise me you're gonna be okay," he whispered.

"I don't like making promises I don't think I can keep," she whispered back.

His frown deepened. "Promise you'll be careful?" he tried again.

"I promise," she smiled softly, a barely-there stretch of her lips, and Fred closed the space between them in a heartbeat.

His lips pressed to hers, still sweet from the syrup he'd poured onto his bacon, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his own hands curled at the jut of her hips. They kissed languidly, time seemingly stopped, their breaths intermingled, and it was only when Harry awkwardly cleared his throat that they pulled apart.

"I'll see you later," Fred whispered, lifting a hand to gently run his fingertips down the length of her blonde hair.

Winona grinned. "Not if I see you first."

Mr Weasley stuck his head back inside the entryway. "Come on now, Fred, Winona really does have to get going," he said reproachfully.

Fred didn't even glance up at his father, and Winona felt warm at the total focus in his eyes. "Bye, love," he said softly.

Unable to resist, she hopped up onto her toes just quickly enough to press a chaste kiss to his sweet lips, then she pulled herself unceremoniously from his arms, knowing that if she didn't leave now, she never would.

The door to Grimmauld Place shut behind the three of them, and Winona saw it for exactly what it was; a barrier between safety and danger. A barrier she was on the wrong side of.

"Come along," said Mr Weasley, doing his best to seem jolly, but against the dreary grey of the London morning, and their equally sombre attitudes, it fell terribly flat.

They set off at a brisk walk across the square, and Winona tucked her hands into the pockets of the jacket she wore over her sundress. It wasn't quite cold enough to need one, but she wanted something over her shoulders and draped around her today. A small but necessary comfort, particularly as her wand was stuffed in her pocket, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" Harry asked as they walked. He didn't quite sound conversational, but certainly a little curious.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr Weasley, "and if it was just Winona and I, that's how we'd get there today – but obviously you can't. And besides, I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion … makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for…"

Winona was barely listening, too focused on scanning the streets they passed, looking for any sign of a threat. She felt like they were being watched, but she knew it was likely just her own paranoia eating away at her. Fingers curled around her wand, she scanned windowsills and doorways, searching for anything out of place.

They arrived at the underground station without issue, and she let herself relax just a fraction. So far, so good. They could do this; she wasn't going to get kidnapped.

"Simply fabulous," Mr Weasley was whispering as he stared at the automatic ticket machines in rapture. "Wonderfully ingenious."

"They're out of order," said Harry, pointing at the sign.

"Yes, but even so…"

Winona made her way to the payment window instead. A sleepy guard sat behind the desk, and when she handed over their Muggle money he handed her back their tickets sluggishly, as if under the Imperio Curse. But again, her paranoia was just making her edgy; making her see threats where there were none.

The train was only three minutes out, and soon enough they were boarding it. It rattled and shook as it took them off towards the centre of London. Mr Weasley kept anxiously checking and re-checking the Underground Map above the windows.

"Four stops, Harry … three stops left now … two stops to go, Winona…"

No apparent threats on the train, other than a pair of girls who looked like they were on their way home from a wild night out. They wore sparkly dresses and the most conscious of the pair shot Harry a flirtatious smile that made him uncomfortable, and he leant closer to Winona as though he were a bear cub hiding behind his mama from a threat.

Ten minutes later they were stepping onto a street in the very heart of London. The streets were busy, and Winona gripped her wand even tighter, because any one of these businessmen or women could have been a dark wizard in disguise. Her throat was tight and her eyes hard.

She was startled out of her heavy concern when Harry's arm slipped through hers. Hooking their arms together, he kept his eyes forward and kept walking. But the simple comfort was there, warm and real, and she leant closer into her cousin's side, reminding herself that she wasn't alone. Not now, not ever.

"Here we are," said Mr Weasley brightly as they made their way towards an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. "After you."

He opened the telephone-box door and gestured the cousins inside. Winona unwound her arm from Harry's and stepped inside, Harry close behind. Mr Weasley folded himself in beside them both, and then closed the door behind him. It was a very tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus and Winona splayed against the glass like a bug on a windshield. Mr Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.

"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order, too," Harry said, frowning at the way the receiver hung crookedly off its perch.

"No, no, I'm sure its fine," said Mr Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see… six … two … four … and another four … and another two…"

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them. "_Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business._"

"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing, and Winona…er…" he faltered over her last name.

"Black," she supplied, feeling an unexpected flare of pride as she said it.

"And Winona Black, who is to be called as a witness at said hearing."

"_Thank you,_" said the cool female voice. "_Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes_."

Little silver badges appeared from the place where the coin slot should be, and they each took them, pinning the badges to the front of their clothes.

"_Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium._"

Winona grit her teeth as they began to sink, the telephone-box going down, down into the ground beneath London. She'd never been to the Ministry before, and she'd rathered not have been going there now. But a phone box sinking slowly beneath the surface of London…it was just a little bit cool.

"_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,_" said the woman's voice once they'd reached the very bottom of the chute, the Ministry of Magic spread out before them in all its dignified glory.

Winona took in the dozens of fireplaces lining the long and fancy hallway they had arrived in. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would step from a burst of green flames, checking their watches and rushing off to work. At the end of the hall was a grand fountain with a witch and wizard, a goblin, a centaur and a house-elf, water spurting from their accessories. It was made of solid gold, and the water glittered like none she'd ever seen.

She thought it was kind of pretentious, and that the male wizard looked disconcertingly like Fudge, but Fred and George weren't here to make the scathing comment to, and Harry wasn't in the state to appreciate it, so she kept her lips sealed wisely shut.

"This way," said Mr Weasley.

They joined the throng of witches and wizards on their way into work. Winona reached up to fiddle with the little silver badge on her chest. _Winona Black; Witness in Disciplinary Hearing,_ it read in elegant script, and it was cool to the touch.

A pair of goblins walked by, muttering loudly in Gobbledegook, and when one of them looked up at her with its beady little eyes, Winona's restless hands went back to her wand. Just because she was in the Ministry, it didn't mean she was any less in danger than she was up in Muggle territory. If anything, being down here was even more of a risk; but it was one she had no choice but to take.

Winona wrapped her arm through Harry's again, just to feel him beside her. He didn't complain.

"Over here, you two," said Mr Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates at the very end of the seemingly endless hall. Seated at a desk to the left, beneath a sign saying SECURITY, a badly-shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"I'm escorting two visitors," said Mr Weasley in a formal sort of voice, gesturing towards Harry and Winona.

The wizard had a scowl on his face, and Winona got the feeling he wished he were anywhere else right about now. He hated his job; she could appreciate that. "Step over here," said the wizard in an utterly bored voice.

Harry hesitated, and so Winona stepped forwards. "I'll go first."

The wizard still looked bored as he dragged some kind of long, golden rod up and down the length of Winona's body, much like an immigration officer at an airport. "Wand," he grunted, holding out a hand.

This time Winona was the one to hesitate. She didn't realise someone would be taking her wand – the thought made panic gather like a lump in her throat. She hesitated long enough that the wizard grew annoyed, and Mr Weasley leaned towards her.

"It's all right, Winnie," he said patiently. "It's protocol. You'll get it back."

Grinding her teeth together, Winona very reluctantly handed over her wand. The wizard snatched it from her hand, then dropped it onto some kind of brass instrument that looked like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore it off and read what it said aloud.

"Twelve inches, unicorn-hair core, been in use six years, correct?"

"That's right," she murmured, staring at her wand on the scale. She didn't like being parted from it, and her hands curled around the strap of her ever-present bag. Unfortunately, that brought his attention to it.

"I'm going to have to check your bag," he informed her tonelessly.

Her eyes flashed. "Is that really-"

"Winona," said Mr Weasley, patient and gentle. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then lifted the strap from her shoulder, setting her beloved bag on the table between them.

The personality-deficient wizard opened the front of the satchel, beginning to root around inside. He looked surprised by what he'd found. "What's all this meant to be?" he asked rather rudely, holding up her travel-sized palette with a frown.

"Art supplies," she said.

"What for?"

The look she sent him was unimpressed. "Art."

Perhaps sensing the oncoming storm, Mr Weasley stepped in. "Winona's an artist, never goes anywhere without her things," he said with a small smile on his face that Winona supposed was rather charming. Funny, she'd never wondered where the twins had gotten their effortless charm from – but looking at Mr Weasley right then, she realised it definitely came from somewhere.

The wizard sighed like this were all awfully tiresome, then shut her bag and pushed it across the desk back towards her. "Very well," he said flatly. "It checks out. Here's your wand."

He handed it back, and Winona shoved it into her pocket with a sigh of relief, then threaded the strap of her bag over her shoulder again.

"Now you, Harry," said Mr Weasley, gently pushing her cousin forwards.

"Wand?" the bland wizard asked without tone, holding a hand out expectantly.

Harry copied what he'd seen her do, handing over his beloved wand.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"

"Yes," said Harry, sounding about as nervous as Winona had felt.

"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back."

"Thank you."

The wizard opened his mouth to hurry them along, but then his beady eyes caught sight of the badge pinned to Harry's front. "Hang on…" he said slowly, eyes flickering immediately up to the famous scar that sat, clear as day, on Harry's forehead.

"Thank you, Eric," said Mr Weasley firmly, and grasping Harry by the shoulder he steered him away from the desk. Winona cast the wizard a glare as she left, noting that he hardly looked bored now, staring after them with excitement in his eyes.

They made their way to a circular room with at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. It was a grand sort of an area, and Winona watched as one of the nearby lifts shut and disappeared out of sight. Mr Weasley led she and Harry to a small crowd around one of the other lifts. Nearby stood a big bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box which was emitting rasping noises.

"All right, Arthur?" the wizard greeted Mr Weasley amiably.

"What've you got there, Bob?" Mr Weasley replied, eyeing the box with a hint of wariness.

"We're not sure," said the nameless wizard, and Winona's eyebrows shot upwards. "We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."

The lift arrived and they all piled into the small box, Harry and Winona squished against the very back. A bunch of the witches and wizards on the lift with them were eyeing Harry with unrestrained curiosity, and Winona watched as her cousin nervously tried to flatten his hair over his forehead.

"Can we help you?" Winona asked loudly, stepping in front of Harry and meeting the eyes of a tall, skinny witch with deep purple hair and a pair of earrings that looked like tiny broomsticks. She averted her gaze, properly chastised, and Winona caught Harry smiling at his feet.

The lift began to move, ascending slowly, and that same voice from the telephone-box began to speak again, just as cool and detached as before.

"_Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office_."

The lift doors opened and a wizard juggling an armful of broomsticks shuffled awkwardly out. The doors shut again and they kept moving up.

"_Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Centre._"

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards shuffled out; at the same time, several paper aeroplanes swooped into the lift. They flapped idly around above their heads, a pale violet colour with MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped along the edge of their wings. Winona reached up to touch one and it compensated by floating higher, up out of reach.

"Just inter-departmental memos," Mr Weasley muttered to them. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable … droppings all over the desks…"

"_Level Five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats_."

When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more of the witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp flickered and flashed overhead as they darted around it.

"_Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau._"

"S'cuse," said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.

"_Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee._"

Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr Weasley, the cousins, and another witch. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upwards again, then the doors opened and the voice made its announcement.

"_Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services._"

"This is us, you two," said Mr Weasley, and left the lift, making their way down yet another corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."

"Mr. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, "aren't we still underground?"

Winona followed his line of sight, finding a nearby window which had beams of golden sunlight streaming through it. She wanted to go to the window and breathe the fresh air, but then Mr Weasley spoke up and dashed her dreams.

"Yes, we are. Those are enchanted windows. Magical Maintenance decide what weather we'll get every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay rise… Just round here."

They walked through a pair of heavy oak doors and emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles, which was buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read AUROR HEADQUARTERS.

Harry looked curious as they made their way past open doorways.

The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. Nobody seemed to notice Harry Potter was in their midst, and for that Winona was grateful. She wasn't sure if Harry was the kind of famous to get mobbed over, but when it came to her family, she didn't like to take any risks.

"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley as they drew nearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"

Mr Weasley checked his watch. "Yes, if it really is just a second. I'm in rather a hurry."

They were acting like they hardly knew each other – and doing not such a bad job of it, too – and when Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, Mr Weasley stood on his foot. Her cousin looked alarmed, and Winona wrapped an arm around his to get him to look at her. When their eyes met and she shook her head, he got the message loud and clear.

The three of them followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle. Winona and Harry both froze in the doorway to the cubicle, because Sirius' face was blinking down at them from every possible direction.

Newspaper cuttings and old photographs papered the walls. Winona untangled her and Harry's arms and wandered towards one of the nearest photographs. It was Sirius and Jessica – they looked young, only about fourteen. They weren't dressed in school robes, so Winona guessed it must have been taken at the Potters' house.

Jessica was laughing at something Sirius had just said, and he was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Jessica slapped him playfully on the shoulder, then looked at the camera and rolled her eyes. She was so pretty, all pearly teeth and dazzling eyes, and Winona turned away to find the image of Sirius that had been plastered all over his WANTED posters two years before.

He was laughing maniacally, and Winona grimaced at the image, crossing her arms and looking away. The only space free of her father's face was a map of the world in which little red pins were glowing like jewels.

"Here," Kingsley said brusquely to Mr Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand. "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."

Kingsley shot Harry and Winona an obvious wink and added, in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."

"If you had read my report you would know that the term is 'firearms'," said Mr Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles; we're extremely busy at the moment." Then he dropped his voice and whispered, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."

With that he beckoned Harry and Winona out of Kingsley's cubicle. Before Winona could leave, the tall wizard held out his fist. Smirking to herself, Winona bumped her fist against his, shooting him a wink before winding an arm around Harry's once more and following them out into the next passage.

They made their way through several halls and down multiple corridors, until finally they reached a dead end where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading _Misuse of Muggle Artefacts._

Mr Weasley's office seemed to be slightly smaller than the broom cupboard. Two desks were shoved inside, and there was barely any room to move. Winona shuffled inside and eyed his cluttered desk. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray, and Winona's eyes were instantly drawn to Fred. He was making a face behind Ron's head, while George snickered beside him, and Winona smiled fondly. She couldn't help but notice Percy had apparently decided not to remain in the photograph, either.

What a prat.

"We haven't got a window," Mr Weasley told them apologetically, taking off his jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. It squeaked with the added weight, and Winona thought it might collapse from just that alone. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, you two, doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."

Harry and Winona glanced to the single other chair in the room, and Winona quickly pushed Harry towards it. "You sit, I'm all good."

"No, Winnie-"

"Sit or I'll make you," she warned him. Rolling his eyes, Harry sank into the chair, which also squeaked dangerously, but didn't quite collapse.

"Ah," said Mr Weasley as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from the file Kingsley had handed him. "Yes…" he flicked through it absently. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing – oh dear, what's this now?"

A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccoughing toaster. Mr Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, "Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately." He paused and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "This is getting ridiculous…"

Harry looked disgusted, and Winona didn't blame him. "A regurgitating toilet?" he asked warily.

"Anti-Muggle pranksters," Mr Weasley frowned. "We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing – well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those – pumbles, I think they're called – you know, the ones who mend pipes and things?"

Harry and Winona exchanged an amused glance. "Plumbers?"

"–exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it…"

"Will it be Aurors who catch them?"

"Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol – ah, Harry, this is Perkins."

An old wizard with fluffy white hair skidded into the room with a truly astounding amount of speed for someone his age. He was panting like he'd run a marathon, and Winona was vaguely concerned about his heart.

"Oh, Arthur!" he panted. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not. I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it–an urgent message came ten minutes ago-"

Mr Weasley sighed again. "I know about the regurgitating toilet."

"No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing – they've changed the time and venue – it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten-"

Mr Weasley gaped at him, and Winona stood straighter, heart pounding in her chest. "Down in old – but they told me – Merlin's beard-" stammered Mr Weasley. He glanced down at his watch and yelped, leaping from his chair like a middle-aged, ginger jack-in-the-box. "Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!"

Poor old Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr Weasley sprinted out of the office. Harry was close on his heels, reaching back with his hand to make sure Winona kept up. She caught his hand, holding tight as they sprinted wildly through the halls of the Ministry.

"Why have they changed the time?" Harry called ahead to Mr Weasley. People stared at them as they hurtled past, but Winona didn't care, although it took a great deal of restraint not to hold up her middle finger as she ran.

"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early," Mr Weasley panted, "if you'd missed it, it would have been catastrophic!"

Mr Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the 'down' button. "Come ON!" he shouted at the lift like it might make it move any faster. Anxiety gripped Winona's insides, and in return she gripped Harry's hand tight.

"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," Mr Weasley was muttering angrily as he impatiently jabbed at the button for level nine. "I can't think why they're doing it down there – unless – but no…"

Before Winona could press him for more, a witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr Weasley could say no more. Winona held Harry's hand tightly, her heart in her throat. She'd expected there to be more time – she'd thought she'd get to warm up for this. To give Harry a much-needed pep talk and make sure he was okay before this all began.

Anger welled inside of her; anger at He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, at the Ministry, at the goddamn Minister himself. It was all so unfair. Harry was just a kid, and they were treating him like some kind of deranged leper!

"_The Atrium,_" said the robotic female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The goblet-holding witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.

"Morning, Arthur," he said in a gloomy voice. Winona had an Addams Family quip on her tongue, but she swallowed it back. "Don't often see you down here…"

"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry. Winona gripped his hand tighter, ignoring the sweat gathering on his palm.

"Ah, yes," said the wizard named Bode, eyeing Harry unblinkingly. "Of course."

His thin, milky eyes flickered to Winona, and she held his stare. He looked at her like he could see _through_ her, and although she didn't like it one bit, she'd suffered through much worse.

"_Department of Mysteries_," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.

"Quick, Harry," said Mr Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above.

The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Mr Weasley seized Harry by the arm and dragged him – and Winona – to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.

"Down here, down here," panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far … _why_ they're doing it down there…"

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to the one that led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Courtroom … ten … I think … we're nearly … yes…" Mr Weasley gasped for air, stumbling to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

"Mr Weasley, are you-?" Winona tried to ask, but he ignored her, pushing Harry through the door.

"Go on," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."

Harry froze where he stood. "Aren't – aren't you coming with–?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!"

Winona was still gripping Harry's hand, and as he opened the door to go through, with her following, she was stopped by Mr Weasley's hand.

"You either, Winona," he hissed, and her eyes went wide.

"But I'm-"

"He's got to go in alone," Mr Weasley said, and when she glanced back at Harry, she found him looking frightfully pale. "You'll be called in soon enough," Mr Weasley assured her.

Knowing they didn't have much time, Winona gathered Harry in a tight hug, pressing a hand to the back of his head. "You'll be okay, Boy-Wonder," she told him, eyes burning even though she knew there was no reason to cry. "You've faced dragons; this is nothing."

Harry laughed once, a pitiful little huffing sound, and squeezed her back.

"Harry, you've got to _go_," Mr Weasley insisted, and Winona grit her teeth as she pulled back, gently pushing her cousin through the doorway.

He met her eyes and she nodded once. She watched as he straightened himself to his full height and walked determinedly through the door, which shut after him with a foreboding click.

Winona immediately began to pace a hole in the floor, her heart swelled up into her throat. Her hands gripped at her neck as if she might be able to dislodge the lump with her bare hands. "He's going to be okay, Winnie," Mr Weasley told her quietly.

"This is all so wrong," she hissed, not acknowledging his attempt to soothe her. "Why would they bring the trial time up? And why all the way down in this creepy dungeon? It doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," he said, and she turned to look at him desperately. "They were hoping Harry would not arrive at all. It's easier to convict someone when they don't even show up for their trial."

Winona felt like it was hard to breathe. "So then they've already made up their minds."

Mr Weasley looked grave. "I don't know."

She went back to pacing. "But if they'd made a decision, I would have _Seen_ it. I've been keeping my eye on the trial, I'd know if – if-"

Mr Weasley's hand fell onto her shoulder, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're very brave, coming here for Harry," he told her fervently. Winona was so confused by the abrupt change of topic that her panic began to recede. "He's lucky to have you."

Winona's mouth felt dry. "He's my family," she whispered.

Mr Weasley's smile was somehow both sad and happy at the same time. "I know."

He pulled her into a hug, then, and Winona gripped him with unexpected strength. She was so scared for Harry – Fudge had some kind of sick vendetta against him, and the whole Wizengamot was practically at Fudge's beck and call. Did he even have a shot at winning this? He was playing a game that was rigged from the start.

Footsteps hit the shiny black floor, and Winona let go of her embarrassing grip on Mr Weasley to spin to face the intruder, her wand outstretched and ready to attack. Only it wasn't a Death Eater, come to snatch her away from her family and keep her in a cage like some kind of psychic gerbil.

It was Dumbledore.

"Oh, thank fuck," she exhaled with sheer relief. Dumbledore looked as though he hadn't even heard her swear, while Mr Weasley snorted once in wry amusement. "What're you going to-?" she tried to ask, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her.

"Wait here," he said, voice like thunder. "We'll call you inside in a moment."

With that he swept into the court without so much as a glance backwards. Winona went right back to pacing, her fingers itching to get out her sketchpad and draw something, if only to keep herself busy. But she held back – she didn't have the patience to draw, and besides, she needed to be ready at any moment. Harry was counting on her.

"Dumbledore's here now," Mr Weasley told her. "He'll sort it out."

"Yeah," she murmured, trying to make herself believe it.

The minutes ticked by, and Mr Weasley seemed to sense that Winona was beyond the point where words would be of any help. She paced and she paced, mind going to all the worst-case scenarios she could conjure.

Finally, after so long that Winona thought she might _literally_ wear a hole into the floor, the door creaked open and a familiar head poked out through the crack.

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but the whatever he was going to say died on his lips when he realised who was outside the door. His brown eyes flickered between his father and the anxiety-ridden Winona, speechless for a long second before he shook his head and snapped himself out of it.

"Miss Andrews, they're ready for you," he said, sounding perfectly cordial, although the concrete glint to his eyes was hard to miss.

"It's Black," she corrected him tartly. Percy didn't react, and he certainly didn't look at his dad again, he just held the door open wider and gestured for her to walk in.

The courtroom was cavernous and round, with at least fifty witches and wizards in plum-coloured robes sat in rows on one side. Their eyes bore into her like lasers, and she lifted her head higher in response.

She'd been the subject of scrutiny before; she could handle whatever the Wizengamot could throw her way. She wouldn't be afraid.

Dumbledore was sitting beside Harry in a comfortable-looking armchair, and when Winona appeared he stood, gesturing for her to sit and conjuring himself another one on Harry's other side. Her instincts made her want to smile at Harry, but she forced herself to stay expressionless and proper, sitting in the squishy armchair with as much dignity as she could manage.

Fudge was staring her down, but she couldn't help but notice he looked just a little too pale. "Full name?" he asked her darkly, as if trying to scare her into leaving with his voice alone.

"Winona Jessica Black," she said in a clear, ringing voice, and instantly a loud murmuring rippled through the Wizengamot.

"Sirius Black's daughter?" hissed one of the plum-coloured jurors. "I thought she'd died."

"Did you see the article?" another said loudly. "She's a confirmed Seer!"

Fudge had to bang his gavel to bring order back to his underlings, and slowly the conversation dispersed, leaving a gaping hole of hungry silence.

"And who exactly are you?" Fudge asked, and it sounded like he were struggling to get the words out around gritted teeth.

"I'm heir to the House of Black, and I'm going into my seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said, keeping her voice steady. She folded her hands in her lap, hoping nobody noticed them shake.

The woman beside Fudge leaned forwards, and Winona desperately wished Fred or George were here, just so she'd have someone to make fun of her monocle with. "If you're Sirius Black's daughter, that would make your mother Jessica Potter," she pointed out the obvious in a cool, crisp voice. "Which would make you-"

"Harry Potter's first cousin," said Dumbledore in a booming voice.

Yet another ripple of whispers travelled through the Wizengamot. Fudge was scowling so hard that Winona thought it would have to hurt. "You bring the defendant's only living relative as witness?" he asked, doing his best to sound unimpressed. "Miss Andrews-"

"Black," Winona corrected him, and he paused, eyes narrowed. She caught his stare and held it, unflinching. Because she might have been afraid, but damn if she wasn't still a Gryffindor at heart.

"Right," said Fudge, lip curled like he smelt something bad. "Miss _Black_. How can we trust your testimony when you, more than anybody else, have a vested interest in the acquittal of Mr Potter's case?"

"Nowhere in the Wizengamot Charter of Rights does it state that an eyewitness cannot be a blood relative of the defendant," Dumbledore reminded the Wizengamot plainly, keeping his voice light and casual. Judging by tone alone, anyone would think they were discussing knitting patterns. "Is that not correct, Madam Bones?"

The witch with the monocle nodded her head once. "That is correct."

Fudge looked like someone had just told him he had to eat glass. But Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"And, as I'm quite sure it is common knowledge by now, thanks to Rita Skeeter's article back in November of last year, Miss Black is a verified Seer," he continued in that perfectly pleasant voice. "While it's been several decades since a Seer of her authenticity has appeared, I'm sure none of you on the Wizengamot have forgotten how valued the word of a True Seer can be, particularly in matters such as these."

"We haven't forgotten," said Madam Bones carefully, eye narrowed behind her monocle.

Grimacing so deeply that it gave him a second set of lips, Fudge turned his attention back to Winona, as though Dumbledore weren't even there at all.

"What is your story?" he asked Winona tartly.

She bristled. "It isn't a _story_," she snapped. Some of the Wizengamot looked aghast at her display of disrespect, so she took a deep breath and reined herself in. "I was planning to visit Harry," she began in a much more gentle voice. "I Apparate into that alleyway sometimes – the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk – to avoid being seen by Muggles. I only arrived a little before the attack."

"Attack?" Fudge barked, eyeing her shrewdly.

She lifted her chin, daring him with her eyes to defy her. "There were two dementors. They came at us from either side of the alley."

Another ripple of discontent spread throughout the crowd. "Describe them," said the woman named Bones.

"Describe them?" she echoed, wanting to snap that they all knew what they looked like, but from the corner of her eye she saw Dumbledore twitch – a simple, barely-there movement – but it was enough to get her to rein her sass in.

She had to be polite, no matter how much she wanted to flip off every single one of them and tell them all exactly what she thought of their precious Minister.

"They were large, cloaked in dirty tatters, and they smelt like something rotting. The air was so cold it hurt to breathe, as if there was ice on my lungs. All the happiness in the planet disappeared, and I was left with nothing but the things that haunt me most in this world."

There was a brief moment of silence, and for once nobody was whispering or laughing or wondering where she'd been all these years. Finally there was just thoughtful quiet; and it occurred to her that maybe they actually had a shot at coming out of this on top.

"What did the dementors do?" Madam Bones asked thinly.

"They went for Harry and his other cousin," she told her, meeting the woman's eyes confidently. "Harry tried to cast the Patronus Charm twice, but it didn't work until the third time."

"And why didn't you cast it yourself?" interjected Fudge, a smug glint in his eye, as if he'd just proved her whole recount false. "Surely if you care so much for the boy, you would have cast your own Patronus and saved us all this…_mess._"

Winona ground her teeth together. "I've never cast the Patronus Charm before," she said, voice hard and as pretty as diamond. "I don't know how. As I'm sure you remember, it's very advanced magic, and – traditionally – we're not taught until our final year in school."

It was a perfectly valid response, but Fudge was still desperately searching for holes to punch in her story. "And what were you doing visiting Mr Potter in the first place?"

Dumbledore's hand twitched again, just barely a fraction, and only for her to see. She knew, suddenly, with startling clarity, what he wanted her to say. And she hated him for it, just a little.

"I'd had a vision of the dementors," she said, and yet another flurry of gasps and whispers broke out amongst the witches and wizards gathered. "I went to check on him."

"You willingly inserted yourself into a dementor attack?" Madam Bones asked, looking appalled. "Why would you do such a thing? Why not alert the Ministry immediately?"

"Because I was scared for my cousin's life, and – in all honesty – I didn't trust the Ministry to handle it in a…timely manner," she worded her response carefully. Madam Bones' expression was shuttered, impossible to decrypt, while Fudge was slowly turning a frightful shade of purple.

"You didn't trust us, so you took the law into your own hands?" Fudge snarled.

"I can't change the past," she snapped back, eyes flashing with a warning that he ignored. "I showed up when my cousin needed me. _That's_ what I did. _That's_ what happened. _That_ is the truth."

Nobody said anything for a long few moments, Fudge stalling for time by needlessly shuffling the papers sat on his desk. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Winona still stared him down, hoping to make him uncomfortable anyway. Finally, when he looked up, it was with a twinge of uncertainty in his eyes. He wasn't sure he could control this anymore. He wasn't sure he could win.

But he still scrambled to try and retake some semblance of control. "So, we're to believe you had a _vision_-?"

"Are you calling into question the veracity of Miss Black's precognitive abilities?" Dumbledore asked point-blank. Fudge spluttered a moment, speechless, but Dumbledore wasn't done with him yet. "Was it not you, Cornelius, who met with Miss Black in my office at Hogwarts this recent February to ask for her aid in the Ministry's affairs?"

The room broke out in another round of gossipy whispers, and by now Fudge was a truly concerning shade of purple. Winona desperately wanted to laugh, if only from sheer hysteria. His eyes were hard and cold – like little flakes of frozen coal – when he turned to Winona and spoke with venom in his voice. "You may go," he snarled.

Winona didn't doubt he'd gut her like a fish, should the opportunity present itself.

Winona finally looked away from the Wizengamot, glancing at her cousin. He wasn't smiling, but he certainly looked a great deal more optimistic than he had when she'd hugged him out in the hall. It seemed like he thought they were in with a shot to win this thing, too.

She asked him with her eyes if he was all right; and she wondered if he knew that, should he say no, there wouldn't be a hex that could stop her from getting him out of there in one piece.

"You may _go_, Miss Black," said Fudge again, suppressed rage in his voice. It was all Winona could do not to drop into a sarcastic curtsy. She settled for simply winking at her cousin, then turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Nobody spoke until she was all the way out of the room, but by then the door was shut and their words muffled. She had no idea what was happening, and she hated it.

"How'd it go?" Mr Weasley asked eagerly.

"Unclear," she said, returning her to furious pacing like no time had passed.

Mr Weasley stood by the door, wringing his hands in worry, while Winona paced and tried not to let panic overwhelm her. The minutes ticked on, seeming to crawl by at a snail's pace. She focused on taking deep breaths and compiling all the funny things from the trial so she could tell the twins. The list wasn't very lengthy, but it kept her occupied.

Finally the door burst open and Dumbledore strode out. He paused next to Winona. "If anybody from the Wizengamot tries to talk to you, be calm and removed, and tell them _nothing_," he ordered her, tone leaving no room for argument.

"Yes sir," she said obediently. "Is Harry-?"

But Dumbledore was already gone. If time crawled at a snail's pace, Dumbledore walked at a cheetah's, halfway down the hall before she could get the question out.

Another few moments went by, and just as Winona was considering charging into the room – propriety be damned – the door opened again and a breathless Harry tumbled out.

She gripped him by the shoulders, spine aching with tension. "Well?" she demanded anxiously.

"Cleared," said Harry with a bright grin, "of all charges!"

And the relief she felt was almost enough to send her to the floor.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, it's me! I hope you enjoyed this one; I know a lot of you were looking forwards to the courtroom scene. I wanna take a moment to thank you all for the kind reviews and messages you've been leaving me, and even some of the messages on my instagram which have been such a pleasant surprise. Every time I get one it just brightens my entire day, and I'm so grateful for all your patience and support while I've been taking a break from posting.**

**Unfortunately, I won't be going back to weekly updates just yet – I'm not quite as far ahead in the story as I like to be when posting, and I've still got some things going on in my person life that leave me busy. But I have never – and will never – forget about you or this story, and just know that your continued support has left my break full of motivation and creativity!**

**I know this is a really rough time for all of us, and while some days things look like they're changing for the better, others aren't quite as kind. I hope you're all keeping safe and well, and I hope my stories are a ray of sunshine in your otherwise cloudy days.**

**Also, I realise I've forgotten to do Review of the Week a few times recently – that's how hectic things have been. Here's my response to one that made me so incredibly happy to read: **

**_readingtilldawn –_ I really can't thank you enough for your kind words. The fact that you can escape into this story and forget your "woes and boredom" makes me endlessly happy, and I hope I continue to entertain and entrance you with this story. Hope you liked this one, too!**

**See you all (hopefully) soon with another chapter. xx**


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